The Central Series

The Academy

The Anathema

The Far Shores

The Outer Dark

The Church of Sleep

Other Books by the Same Author

The Night Market

Unknown Kadath Estates, Volume One:

Paranoid Magical Thinking

Unknown Kadath Estates, Volume Two:

The Mysteries of Holly Diem

Unknown Kadath Estates, Volume Three:

The Floating Bridge

For Roger Zelazny and Karin Dreijer

Copyright © 2020 by Zachary Rawlins
Cover photographs copyright © Zodebala and BERK085

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

Published by ROUS Industries.
Oakland, California
spook_nine@yahoo.com

978-0-9837501-8-5
Cover design by ROUS Industries

First Edition

TABLE OF CONTENTS

Where We Left Off

Prologue

One

Two

Three

Four

Five

Six

Seven

Eight

Nine

Ten

Eleven

Twelve

Thirteen

Fourteen

Fifteen

Sixteen

Seventeen

Eighteen

Nineteen

Twenty

Twenty-One

Twenty-Two

Twenty-Three

Twenty-Four

Twenty-Five

Twenty-Six

Twenty-Seven

Twenty-Eight

Twenty-Nine

Thirty

Thirty-One

Thirty-Two

Epilogue

Where We Left Off

Central teeters on the edge of collapse.

Depleted and exhausted from a pyrrhic victory against the Anathema, the surviving Auditors are trapped in Las Vegas, cut off from Central by a massive disturbance in the Ether, caused by the destruction of the Anathema World Tree. With Karim Sabir and Mitsuru Aoki dead, Michael Lacroix and Chike Okoro hospitalized, and Alex Warner and Katya Zharova missing, Alice Gallow has only Xia and a small group of untrained Auditors at her disposal, while Alistair and Song Li of the Anathema remain at large.

Grieving the death of her father and brother in a bombing conducted at her debut, and prevented from returning to Central, Anastasia Martynova must watch from afar as the Thule Cartel execute their long-planned takeover, crushing the Black Sun and the Administration in Central, and putting the remaining Hegemony cartels in dire straits. The only remaining Black Sun asset in Central is a covert action unit, inserted at great cost, made up of Anastasia’s suitors, each hunting Gaul Thule’s head as well as a chance to wed the Mistress of the Black Sun.

Deprived of her Auditors, Director Rebecca Levy must find a way to protect the students and staff of the Academy as war breaks out across Central. Unperturbed even with his back to the wall, Lord Henry North organizes his family and cartel for the conflict with the Thule Cartel. Taking advantage of the chaos, Emily Muir has assumed control of the Far Shores, and maneuvers her small crew of former Auditors, disenchanted Anathema, and cartel refugees for her own ends, employing diplomacy and sabotage as she positions herself among the major players in Central.

Damaged body and soul by his incarceration in the Outer Dark and drained from the effort of destroying the World Tree, Alex waits nervously at the occupied Far Shores. Surrounded by his friends and saviors – Katya, Emily, and Vivik, nearly all the members of the Rescue Alex from the Outer Dark Club – he is desperate to locate Eerie before the Church of Sleep manifests to collect the Changeling, putting an end to her life, Alex and Eerie’s burgeoning romance, Central, and even the club itself.

Meanwhile, in the Outer Dark, John Parson prepares for the assembly of the Church of Sleep, making one last emotional plea to his Changeling captive before the coming of the end…

Prologue

They regarded each other from opposite sides of an anemic campfire, at the edge of a shore composed of gleaming metal salts, a chromed reflection of the black skies shining across the flats with each persistent flash of slow lightning.

“I don’t understand your role in all this,” she said, rubbing her shoulder, the pain of the recent dislocation lingering. “You change your mind even more often than I do.”

“That is almost exactly what Gaul Thule said to me when we first met.” He looked as if he were considering laughter. “I apologize for being confusing.”

“You should apologize for being a jerk.” She examined a lock of her blonde hair ruefully, only a trace of blue left at the ends. “I have better places to be right now.”

“You could apologize for wrecking plans laid decades before you were born, for no good or sensible reason. You realize that you have demolished the life’s work of any number of people? This has been in motion for so long, and now you’ve gone and changed everything, Ériu.”

“Are you sure that I don’t know what I’m doing?”

“I’m not at all sure.” He shook his head. “That’s why I wanted to have this little talk, before it all gets settled.”

“Nothing gets settled. Everything is what it is,” Eerie said. “And there is no such thing as before. Have you really not figured that out yet?”

“I did not expect a lecture from you, of all people,” John Parson said, laughing. “Tell me the truth, Changeling. Do you still intend to come to the Church of Sleep at the appointed time? Will you meet your destiny in the White Room?”

The man stared. The young woman looked away. The fire did not crackle and failed to generate any heat. Not that it would have helped, in the heart of incipient entropy.

“You’re not serious?” John’s forehead creased. “You can’t mean to tell me…?”

“I can’t? Are you so sure you know what I’m capable of?” Eerie sighed and rested her chin on her fist. “I’m the youngest. My dreams come true. You should remember that, Mr. Representative.”

John Parson shook his head slowly.

“I’m not a Representative quite yet, and I have no intention of becoming such. I’ve developed a taste for being me, and I have no plans to give that up. It’s not just my existence you are imperiling, you know. You’ve done so many terrible things. What could possibly be worth doing such damage to so many innocent people?”

“I’m not telling,” Eerie said, shaking her head. “That’s my business.”

“There is a very real chance that you have doomed us all,” John said, sounding slightly awed. “You realize that your actions have consequences aside from your own trivial concerns, don’t you? This cannot be as petty as I’ve been told. Alistair claims this whole disaster is the result of a schoolgirl romance. You cannot possibly be so self-absorbed, can you?”

“I can be, in the right mood.” Eerie nodded serenely. “I’ve done what I wanted. I’m prepared to deal with the consequences.”

“What of the consequences for the rest of us? We have to live in the world you’ve made, you know.”

“It would not necessarily have been better any other way, would it?” Eerie gave him a reproachful look. “I think it’s normal to want to change the world, to make it better. I won’t apologize for being good at it, if that’s what you want.”

“You are not at all as I was led to believe, Ériu,” John said. “You are neither foolish nor naïve.”

“Sometimes I’m not even nice.”

“You are troublesome, sister,” a voice from within the campfire said, followed by a long sigh that hissed like moisture boiling out of wood. “You rejected my compassionate intervention, and now you will be sanctioned for your misbehavior. I tried to shield you from this very outcome.”

“I really wish you could have found a better way to do it than hurting Alex,” Eerie said resentfully. “I’m sorry that he destroyed your body, though. I’m sure he didn’t mean to.”

“It certainly seemed as if he meant to do it,” the fire said crossly, a pair of bright green eyes opening near the reddened coals. “I’ve done the best I could with him, Ériu, for your sake. I’m not sure about your choices, but I’ve done my best. He strikes me as quite unreasonable, but I do want things to work out well for you.”

“You spent a long time in Alex’s head, even if it was for the worst reasons. I’m a little jealous,” Eerie said, snapping a split end from her hair and feeding it into the fire. “I can’t do that. I have no talent for it.”

“A boy’s head is like his room. Messy, cluttered, and malodorous,” the fire sniffed. “Hardly worth the effort to visit.”

Eerie glanced away.

“I appreciate your help, Samnang, even if I didn’t ask for it,” the Changeling said quietly. “You hurt him, though. I won’t forgive you for that.”

“That was entirely for your benefit!” The fire protested with Samnang’s voice. “All I did was to prepare him a bit for what you plan to drag him into. If you had any regard at all for the boy, you would never have interfered in his life in the first place.”

Eerie smiled hesitantly.

“I would do it all again,” she said. “I’m sure that Alex would tell you the same.”

***

“Do we have a plan?”

“We? We don’t have anything. You are the Director, Becca. I was hoping you had something in mind.”

“Oh.”

Gerald Windsor glanced up from his laptop.

“You really don’t have any ideas?”

“I’ve got nothing,” Rebecca admitted, sitting across the table from him in the deserted faculty lounge. “We’re totally screwed.”

“Now, now,” Gerald said, closing his laptop with a sigh. “It cannot be that dire. Let’s think it all through, shall we?”

“What’s to think through?” Rebecca lit a cigarette. “The Ether is a mess. Central is isolated. Apports are impossible and the fixed stations are down. We have no long-distance telepathy and no Auditors. The Hegemony is hunting the remnants of the Black Sun and settling scores among themselves across Central and smashing anyone who so much as looks at them wrong in the process. Oh, yeah, let’s not forget – Gaul Thule and Henry North are set to duel tomorrow, with control of the Hegemony on the line.”

“Do you truly believe that Gaul will battle North directly?”

“Not for a second,” Rebecca admitted. “Henry would slaughter Gaul in a fight, and anyway, Gaul’s too smart to get his hands dirty. He has something else in mind.”

“What, then?” Gerald smiled good-humoredly while he packed the bowl of his pipe with fragrant tobacco. “What do you expect?”

“I don’t know!” Rebecca threw her hands in the air. “Gaul’s the damn precog, not me. I can’t remember what I did last night, much less guess what’s gonna happen tomorrow.”

“Well, what do you intend to do?”

“What can I do? I have no Auditors and no Alice. I have a bunch of kids who are scared shitless of the war outside, wondering whether their families are alive or dead, spread across an Academy that is impossible to secure without more personnel. I’ve been employing my protocol constantly just to keep this place from falling apart.”

“Then the status quo is unsustainable,” Gerald pointed out reasonably. “We must find another way forward.”

“How?”

“Not to be contentious,” Gerald said, gripping the pipe stem between his teeth as he applied a match to the tobacco. “But you are not entirely without Auditors.”

“What, Mikey? He’s just out of surgery, in a trauma simulation. Even with the best care, we won’t be able to wake him up for another few days, and we still don’t know if his brain was damaged.”

“I am not referring to poor Michael,” Gerald said, shaking out the match. “Would you say that the role of Director plays to your own unique personal strengths, Rebecca?”

“No,” Rebecca said, putting her head on the table. “I think I’m the worst Director that has ever been.”

Gerald puffed away contentedly.

“You know,” Rebecca said. “That was your opportunity to contradict me.”

“What? Oh, sorry. Well…you did not betray Central, or the Academy. That is most definitely in your favor. I doubt anyone would describe you as the worst ever.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“Bottom five, certainly, though…”

“I never asked for this job, asshole.”

“I am very aware of that. What about the job you did ask for?”

“School counselor?”

“As I recall, you were forced into that role as well,” Gerald reminded her. “Under duress.”

“Oh. Yeah. I guess. Kinda came to like it.”

“No, Director, I refer to the role you played most successfully, and the one I believe you enjoyed above any other.” Gerald took the pipe from his mouth and poked at the bowl with his little finger. “You were once an Auditor, Rebecca. You were considered something of a terror, even in comparison to Alice.”

“You know how it is,” Rebecca said, lifting her head. “Stories get exaggerated over time.”

“I’ve experienced that myself. In your case, however, we both know that there is something to the stories. Is it time that you played a different role? You have always been willing to do whatever Central needed. Perhaps what Central needs now is not a Director, or a counselor, but an Auditor.”

Rebecca dropped her head back onto the table.

“If you’re not going to take this seriously, then I’m not talking to you.”

“I am entirely serious,” Gerald said. “Do you have any better ideas?”

“I don’t even have any bad ideas. I’ve got nothing.”

He gave her a smug look and puffed on his pipe.

“Oh, you shut up,” Rebecca said. “My lack of ideas doesn’t make you clever, you know.”

***

Nothing had happened for weeks, and that was fine, as far as he was concerned.

He knew instantly on regaining consciousness that he was in a trauma simulation, but Michael was not troubled by that realization. If anything, it was a comfort – this variety of monotony suited him. He wouldn’t have minded if it kept up.

His days were spent attending therapy sessions with a simulation of Rebecca Levy and working out in a state-of-the-art athletic facility that was filled with what appeared to be cheerful and enthusiastic gym users, if he didn’t look at them too hard. An old friend from college drilled him through calisthenics and wind sprints on a stadium field, while a former coach from his youth league days assisted with his strength training regimen.

His nights were restful and dreamless.

The between times were his favorite, however, the liminal hours between day and night.

In the mornings, he walked in endless green fields, along a level and well-maintained trail, not keeping any particular pace, not even really watching the dawn slowly color the landscape. There were no hills or trees, no creeks or roads to cross. He came to no landmarks and saw no homes or buildings. He never encountered another person on these walks, and no matter how far he wandered, the way back was easy, and breakfast was always waiting.

The evenings were spent at a bar near the water at Daytona Beach, where he remembered a weekend getaway years before, during one of their many reconciliations, after their even more numerous fights.

Alice arrived a half-hour late every evening, in a dress and full makeup, always walking in right after his second drink arrived.

She wore red and sat very close beside him, her thigh pressed against his own.

They stayed for hours, watching the ocean slap the white sand lazily, and the gulls circle and dive for the trash scattered along the beach. Pedestrians were rare and traffic was nonexistent, but the bar hummed with energy and conversation, and the service was prompt and friendly.

They always intended to take a long walk along the beach as the sun set, but then she would have a bit too much to drink for that and talked him back to the room instead.

He always woke before dawn to find her sleeping beside him, her hair in his face and their legs entangled.

He would not have minded at all if everything had stayed just like that.

He remembered just exactly what had happened to him, of course, though he did not think about it very much. Occasionally, he found himself thinking of a zombified Mitsuru looming above him, dripping corrosive black blood onto his face, and in his weaker moments, he recalled the searing pain. He was aware, also, that nanites and advanced medical care aside, his face was ruined, and that he was very likely blind, and equally likely to have suffered brain damage.

He tried not to let any of this bother him, and he was for the most part successful.

Michael Lacroix was not new to hardship.

He lingered in the trauma simulation after requesting maximum time dilation, stretching each second in the real world into weeks of perfect days.

This morning had felt just a little different.

He had finished a long ride on the stationary bike, and was wiping the sweat off with a towel, considering whether to go to the pool or the weight room, when he noticed a faint whiff of sandalwood, not at all strong, but noticeable among the standard smells of the gym.

Michael looked around but saw no one aside from the vague clientele of the gym.

A set of deadlifts did nothing to dispel the unusual presence.

He scanned the gym again, and this time the invader was standing in the open, sticking out like a sore thumb among the spandex-clad crowd with her blue hair and striped knee socks. She was accompanied by a cloud of tiny golden particles that danced about her and wore a look of guilt on her usually expressionless face.

“I’m very sorry, Mr. Lacroix,” Eerie said. “I know this is a bad time, but I really need your help. Not just me. Everyone needs your help.”

Everything about the Changeling seemed different to him, from her posture to her voice. He wondered if that was part of the simulation.

“Hello, Eerie,” he said, sitting on a conveniently vacant weight bench. “What can I do for you?”

“I know that you are happy here, and I feel bad about asking,” Eerie said, standing in front of him with confidence that he did not recall her having. “We are in real trouble, though.”

“Is it that bad? What is it? The Anathema?”

“It’s…well, it’s everything, really, but mostly it’s the Church of Sleep,” Eerie said, putting a finger on her lips. “Or, I suppose you could say that it’s me, because this is sort of all my fault. It’s about Alex, too, but that’s my fault, and John Parson, which is my fault but he is also a jerk and a bully, and the old Director, who is also a jerk, and the new one, Ms. Levy, who is nice, but I think will be very angry with me the next time that I see her, and then Anastasia, but she’s super nosey and is always meddling in everyone else’s business anyway, so that’s probably not all my fault, and…”

“Eerie, please, slow down,” Michael said, laughing. “I know what was happening when I was injured. What has happened since?”

“All sorts of things,” Eerie said. “Mr. Lacroix, will you help me?”

“Absolutely,” Michael assured her. “I’ll do anything I can. Although, I hate to say it, but I was hurt pretty badly, Eerie, so I’m not sure what I’ll be capable of doing. I know I look fine here, in the simulation, but my face, and my eyes were…”

“Your eyes were gone, and there were holes in your brain,” Eerie said solemnly. “I mostly fixed that.”

“You…you did what?” Michael’s mouth went dry. “You fixed my eyes? How?”

“I’d rather not say, ’cause it’s a little...” Eerie blushed and looked away. “I did my best,” Eerie said. “For your brain, too. You’ll need all that stuff, I think.”

“I think so too. I guess I should thank you. What about my face?”

“I couldn’t do much about that,” Eerie admitted. “I did the best I could, but I can only do so much, especially at a distance. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. I’m very grateful.” He put aside his towel. “You said you were in trouble.”

Eerie nodded.

“What sort of trouble, Eerie? What do you need me to do?”

She glanced around suspiciously, though they were in a trauma simulation, and not one of the ill-defined people around them was real, and then she took another step closer, lowering her voice until it was very nearly a whisper.

Then she told him.

She did not tell him everything, obviously, or even as much as she could have, because Eerie did not want to see Michael get hurt.

She told him what she thought he needed to know and kept the worst parts to herself.

“Well? Will you please help me?”

“Yes, of course,” he said, trying not to think about the small bar, open toward the sea and dimly lit, and Alice arriving late in her red dress. “I would never abandon one of my students.”

And that was the truth, though it did little to make the sudden ending of the simulation any less bitter.

In a trauma unit at the infirmary in the Academy, Michael sighed and wiped his eyes, which were moist and itchy and felt strange in his head but were at least most definitely there and functional. He then wearily rang for a nurse, wondering distractedly why his mouth was filled with the taste of sour apple candy.

***

Xia melted a hole in the razor wire fence near the freeway, the rest of the Auditors baking in the midday heat as he worked. Alice Gallow waited in the shade of a painted cinderblock wall, sitting on a pair of green duffel bags that contained what remained of their field equipment, fanning herself with a discarded real estate promo.

When Xia finished with the fence, the Auditors slipped into the complex one at a time. They emerged not far from a small line of pickups that idled at the side gate, waiting for a sluggish attendant to inspect identifications. Hayley telepathically coordinated their timing to make sure they went unseen. Alice took the lead, while Grigori Aushev brought up the rear, grimacing beneath the weight of the gear bags. They passed two rows of double-units, Alice leading them to a unit in the third row, the green door inset in the concrete identical to each that they had passed. She pressed her thumb against the panel above the door handle and the lock released, revealing a dark, musty space, even hotter than the outdoors.

The Auditors filed inside with obvious reluctance.

“Finally!” Grigori dropped the bags, and then collapsed behind them, his cheeks pomegranate-red and his chest heaving. “I thought I would die out there. Now I can die in here instead.”

“No kidding,” Hayley said, using her hat to fan herself. “How do people live in this awful city?”

“Inside, during the day.” Alice found the main power panel and flipped the circuit breakers, lights and appliances humming to life. “Gotta wonder what they did before air conditioning.”

The storage unit walls were lined with tables and makeshift furnishings. A pair of workbenches were situated beside a utility sink and crude kitchen, while a pair of desks with laptops, a television and shortwave radio, and a camp shower and portable toilet lined the other side of the room. The space between was bisected by a row of bunk beds, the thin mattresses still wrapped in plastic. A tangle of wiring and electrical equipment occupied one corner, while a folding table sagged in the other. Fans started in motion with the lights, rotating slowly overhead and stirring the stale air.

“I’ll say it if no one else will,” Hayley said, grimacing. “This sucks.”

“Give it a chance!” Alice was busy punching buttons on a large panel. “I’m sure after a few days of shitting right next to where you sleep, you’ll feel differently. How the fuck does this thing work, anyway?”

Xia gently pushed Alice aside, and took over the panel.

“Oh God,” Hayley muttered, eyeing the blue portable toilet. “You don’t…you don’t seriously expect me to…?”

“Hold it, for all I care,” Alice snapped. “Could be worse.”

“I’m going to die without water,” Grigori said woozily. “Then again, I’m almost afraid to ask.”

Alice opened the refrigerator, which was almost entirely filled with bottled water. She took a bottle and tossed it to Grigori.

He missed the catch and was forced to crawl after it.

“Not cold yet,” Alice said, taking out more bottles. “But it’s water.”

“That’s something,” Hayley said, catching a thrown bottle gratefully. “Not much, but it’s something.”

Xia nodded at the panel, every box displayed with a bold green checkmark.

“Nice work!” Alice said. “I knew you’d get it, Xia!”

Xia nodded and refused her offer of a bottle of water. Alice watched over his shoulder as he navigated through submenus.

“Miss Gallow?” Min-jun leaned around her arm to get a better view of the display. “What is this?”

“A fixed Etheric terminal,” Alice said. “The precognitive pool wanted to put one here for ‘operational’ reasons they could not explain. The Director howled over the expense, but I guess the precogs were right.”

“So, it’s a terminal to the Network,” Min-jun said. “How is it ‘fixed’?”

“I don’t really get this stuff, but I think, it’s…a hard connection? You don’t need a telepath or anything, and they never go down. I think that’s the idea.”

“But I’ve been trying to reach the Network for hours,” Hayley said. “Nothing responds! I’ve tried every server I can remember, and…”

“I know,” Alice said. “You told me that three times already. That’s why I made us come here, to the shitty safehouse with no air conditioning or internal plumbing, instead of the one that’s on the Strip.”

“The Auditors have a safehouse on the Strip?” Hayley went pale with shock. “Why aren’t we there?”

“Because fucking Alistair knows about that one, and it doesn’t have a terminal.” Xia shifted over to a nearby keyboard and tapped in a few commands. Alice peered at the monitor above, and then grinned. “Aha! We have a connection to the Network! At least, I think we do. Right, Xia?”

Hayley pushed through Min-jun and Grigori to stare at the neat blocks of text on the monitor.

“Ping-back. Confirmation codes.” Hayley’s eyes narrowed. “Why are we looking at a temporary page? Is this a maintenance server?”

Xia glanced at Alice, then turned his attention back to the screen.

“It’s the only one responding, I guess,” Alice explained. “It’s still up, but it’s a little wonky.”

“The connection is terrible,” Min-jun pointed out, struggling to watch over two pairs of shoulders. “Why is it so slow?”

“Because something screwed up the Ether. Remember?” Alice shook her head. “You kids are so entitled. Xia got us a connection, didn’t he? Show some damn gratitude.”

“I don’t think the Network is actually responding.” Hayley pinched her lip. “Can you do a remote reset of the server?”

“Can he what?” Alice shook her head. “Honestly, I don’t even know what you are talking about. Can you do that, Xia?”

Xia shook his head and went to get a bottle of water.

“Damn,” Alice said. “Okay, Hayley, you’re up.”

“Why am I…?”

“Because it was your idea!” Alice glanced over at Xia, who paused from cleaning the bottle with a disinfectant wipe to shake his head again. “It’s beyond Xia, and I’m useless, so it’s up to you. Unless one of the boys wants to try?”

Grigori shook his head, busy inspecting the stores. Min-jun shrugged, and then nudged Hayley.

“Just try,” he suggested. “It can’t hurt, right?”

Hayley looked dubious.

“I don’t have the clearance,” she pointed out. “I don’t know the passwords.”

“I’ll tell you all of them!” Alice pushed Hayley in front of the keyboard. “Just make it work, okay? I’m getting a little nervous.”

“About Central?” Grigori stood up slowly. “I am worried about that as well.”

“I’m not worried about Central at all. They’ve got Rebecca to look after them. They’ll be fine.” Alice frowned. “It’s us I’m worried about. We’re blind, and presumably still close-and-personal with the Anathema.”

“You are worried about another fight with Alistair.” Grigori nodded approvingly. “It is a terrible risk.”

“What? Not at all!” Alice smirked. “I can handle that crowd, even with a bunch of kids as backup. I’m worried about the Anathema getting away. Alistair is out there, doing who knows what. He could be on a plane to parts unknown right now.”

Alice cracked open her own bottle of water and drank nearly half of it.

“Right,” Grigori said. “I thought you were making too much sense.”

***

“I’m sorry to disturb you, Mr. Okoro, but we all must do as we must,” Anastasia said, leaning over his hospital bed. “It is my understanding that you are a Christian?”

He tried to respond, but there was a tube down his throat and a mask over the lower half of his face, so all he managed was an inarticulate mumble. Chike nodded instead, frantically pressing the call button with his left hand, safely concealed beneath the hospital blanket.

“Then I am sure you will understand my dilemma,” Anastasia said, handing her umbrella to a tall, suited attendant with a vampire’s sharp teeth and pallid complexion. “You agree that honoring one’s parents is an obligation, then? I have always believed that to be true, even when it was inconvenient. Family is very important, Mr. Okoro. Don’t you agree?”

Chike nodded, his eyes fixed on what appeared to be a pair of black wolves sitting patiently at the foot of his hospital bed.

“I’m glad that we share that point of view.” Lord Gao held Anastasia’s hand as she climbed up to perch daintily on the edge of his bed. “I find myself at a loss, Mr. Okoro. This is an unfamiliar state, and I admit that I do not much care for it. I am not a stranger to grief, but vengeance is something that I have kept a conscious distance from. I am not given to allowing emotion or tradition to dictate my actions, but present circumstances demand that I do exactly that, should I wish to honor my father and meet the obligations required of my station and lineage.”

Anastasia paused and looked at him expectantly, so Chike nodded again. A nurse opened the door and took in the maids, the collared Weir, and the strange man holding a completely unnecessary umbrella, and decided she had other places to be.

She ran out into the hallway without saying a word.

“If I were the sort of lady to employ profanity, then I might be tempted to do so.” Anastasia sighed and brushed aside her veil, looking at him squarely with eyes reddened and makeup ever-so-slightly smeared by tears. “My family has been wronged, Mr. Okoro, and I am obligated to respond in kind. I must balance accounts with the Thule Cartel, and perhaps others as well, but I would feel better if I could speak to the Chief Auditor first. I have been unable to locate her thus far, but thanks to your unfortunate injury, I was able to locate you.”

Anastasia folded her hands in her lap, Lord Gao waiting attentively at her side.

“I do not wish to deprive you of rest or infringe upon your recovery, but I find myself doing any number of things I would rather not, just lately,” Anastasia said. “To the point at hand, Mr. Okoro, do you know where I can find Ms. Gallow?”

One

“It’s not fair,” Emily proclaimed, leading Alex and Vivik through the black mist that clung to the fused surface of the Outer Dark, each of them holding one of her hands. “It’s not right. What happened to me – to all of us – should never happen to anyone again. That’s what I decided.”

Alex glanced over his shoulder, hoping to see the ruins of the World Tree behind them, but a massive wall of Ether, like an advancing cloudbank, obscured the location. Where the black mist of the Outer Dark met the Ether, the air combusted, and clusters of slow lightning emerged, illuminating the arid plains of the Outer Dark. The hair on the back of Alex’s neck stood on end, and each footstep crackled with static.

“My parents saw me as a pawn, to be married off in exchange for some small measure of power or fortune,” Emily said, leading them through a narrow pass between massive outcroppings of leaden metal, bursting from the ground or embedded partially into it. “My own mother gave me advice on how to seduce you, Alex,” she said, squeezing his hand and bringing a blush to his cheeks. “A boy she had never met, that she didn’t know the first thing about. That’s the sort of place Central is, the kind of place that would call a factory for producing child soldiers a school.”

The ground beneath his shoes was translucent crystal, warped and shattered by the ongoing calamity triggered by the death of the World Tree. The occasional intact vein provided Alex with an unobstructed view of the depths, where he could have sworn that dark things moved, things the size of whales that slithered like serpents, far below the tortured surface of the Outer Dark.

“I wanted something for myself, at least a few years of freedom, so I agreed to enroll at the Academy. You know how that worked out,” Emily said, her smile looking a little sad to Alex. “I turned to the Outer Dark in desperation, and they drowned me in a pit.”

The metal outcroppings they passed were complex and textured, as if they had been worked with massive tools. The one on the right was sheared off at half the length of the other, sliced with laser-cut uniformity. The narrow spire of the intact outcropping opposite disappeared into the banks of black mist, obscuring its true height. The ground was badly fractured, forcing the group to walk carefully and watch their feet on the uneven and occasionally treacherous surface.

“You arrived near death, Alex, and as soon as you were healed, they put you in the Program,” Emily said. “They taught you to kill before they taught you anything else. Doesn’t that say something about Central and their intentions?”

Alex looked at the sky, a slab of abyssal glass fractured by the languid brilliance of the lightning. Great herds of Horrors gathered along the horizon; whether fleeing the calamitous death of the World Tree or moving toward it, he could not tell.

“The cartels don’t protect the weak from the strong, they subjugate everyone,” Emily said, walking them directly through a spout of black mist that burst like a geyser from a fracture in the crystalline ground. “Auditors don’t reform or police, they enforce the status quo. Everything we were told was a lie, and they weren’t even very good lies.”

There was a constant vibration, Alex noticed, the ground shivering beneath his feet and the sensation carrying through his body. The glassine surface below them was slowly disintegrating into the sand from which it had formed. He felt dread, and a hollowness in his chest that pulsed in time with an undefinable external rhythm.

“Infrasound,” Emily explained, squeezing his hand. “Don’t worry. What you are feeling is simply the death-cries of the Dholes, the horrible worm creatures that live deep beneath the surface. You can’t hear it, but I assure you, they are screaming.” Emily’s face wrinkled with distaste. “They are quite awful monsters, by the way. It’s nothing to feel badly over.”

“How did you know what I was thinking about?” Alex glanced about nervously. “Are you reading my mind?”

“A bit,” Emily admitted cheerfully. “It would be more accurate to say that I am sharing your feelings. We are holding hands, and you know that contact facilitates empathy. What did you expect? Vivik and I are doing the same, if it makes you feel any better.”

Alex and Vivik both made faces. Emily laughed.

Or worse, Emily added, winking at Alex as she opened a private telepathic channel. Don’t be angry with me. Please?

Couldn’t you just make me not care?

I absolutely could have. I have not done that, though, have I?

No.

That should tell you something important about my intentions, then.

“Don’t confuse this mess with what we originally intended,” Vivik explained, looking a bit confused. “We did the best we could with what we had.”

“Really?” Alex glanced around at the disintegrating landscape. “This is your best?”

“I’ve had to improvise,” Emily said. “Not everything worked out ideally. I’ll give you that.”

“No shit?” Alex laughed bitterly. “Well, that’s something.”

“You complain a lot for someone who shouldn’t even be alive to complain,” Emily said. “I’m trying to explain myself and help you out. I don’t have to do either of those things.”

“We are your friends, Alex,” Vivik said, trying to meet his eyes. “Don’t forget that.”

“You both used me,” Alex replied, eyes firmly on the horizon, which was infused with an unearthly green glow that made his mouth dry and his stomach clench. “Is that what friends do?”

“That’s what everyone does,” Emily said, leading them into the shadow of one of the massive metal outcroppings. “That’s life. Did Michael and Rebecca do any better by you? What about Eerie?”

“I…”

“Did you ever plan on killing anyone, Alex?” Emily smiled at him. “Did you ever consent to any of this?”

Alex grimaced.

“I haven’t been completely up front with you, it’s true,” Emily said gently. “I won’t deny that. At the same time, do you really think you are being fair to me? You know everything that I’ve done was to survive, to make a place for myself in a world that doesn’t ask permission before it takes. Have you done any different?”

Vivik watched him closely, looking for some sort of reaction, but Alex just set his jaw and stared straight ahead as Emily led them into a bank of Ether that spilled into the Outer Dark from nowhere in particular. They shivered as grey tendrils of mist entwined around their ankles.

“Who has been a better friend to you, Alex?” Emily continued. “Who has dealt with you more honestly or cared more for your interests?”

The ground beneath his shoes softened, and he sank slightly with each step as if they walked through mud, but Alex could see nothing below his knees, aside from the uniform grey of the Ether.

“That’s not fair,” Alex said, shaking his head. “Eerie has been…”

“Your involvement in this world is entirely her fault,” Emily said. “Every misery you have endured, every moment of torture and grief you experienced, all of that is by her design. You can choose to forgive her – that’s your right – but you cannot shift responsibility to suit your preferences. Eerie did this to you.”

The Ether swallowed them entirely. Alex closed his eyes and sucked in air, shocked by the sudden cold. Emily tugged him onward gently.

“That’s…that’s ridiculous. That’s not the way…I mean, I don’t agree, but even if I did, what about Katya?”

Emily paused and frowned.

“Katya’s impact on your life was an unintended consequence, at best,” Emily said reluctantly. “The way it worked out was sheer luck. She would have killed you if Anastasia had asked her to do so. That request was simply never made.”

“You’re wrong,” Alex said. “I don’t think she would have…”

“There’s no reason to make assumptions,” Emily said, wrinkling her nose at the smell of smoke as she led them into the partial sunlight. “Why don’t we ask her?”

The sun above the Far Shores was more obscured than usual, a result of the solid black column of storm clouds looming above the Sea of Ether, and the brown smoke from the fires burning in distant Central. The feeling of even this diminished light and heat on his skin was euphoric, and he couldn’t help but smile as they stepped from the monotone chill of the Ether onto a half-dead lawn in the commons, not far from the Auditor’s building.

Katya, dressed in sweats and a second-hand Arsenal jersey, stared at them in shock, a granola bar slipping from her limp hands.

“Katya, dear? Alex has a question. Would you have filled his brain with needles if your Mistress had asked you to?”

Alex released Emily’s hand. He took a step forward.

“Katya?”

Katya charged over and grabbed Alex around the neck, pulling him into a hug that very nearly took them both from their feet. He patted her clumsily on the back and felt her wet cheek against his neck.

“Alex?” Katya sobbed. “Oh, holy shit! Alex!”

She pulled away to examine his face, her fingers tracing the area around the eye he had lost to Alistair’s knife, since replaced with a cold and artificial organ courtesy of an infusion of vampire blood, if Emily was to be believed.

“What the hell? Are you okay? Oh, fuck! Alex, we tried so fucking hard to…are you…?”

“Shh. It’s okay,” he said, grinning at her. “I’m fine. It’s so good to see you, you have no idea.”

She pulled him close and sobbed on his neck.

“What a heartfelt reunion! What a joyful scene!” Emily clapped her hands and looked delighted. “You see, Alex? It’s like I told you. Who’s been a better friend to you than me?”

Katya stiffened and shot Emily a poisonous glare.

“Where is Eerie?” Alex asked, looking around. “You told me that…”

“John Parson snatched her,” Katya said, downcast. “I tried to protect her, Alex. I swear I did. We were so close, too. If Emily’s vampire had just shown up a few hours sooner…”

“I dispatched Leigh as soon as we located you,” Emily said. “The Changeling was gone before she arrived.”

“We’ll worry about this later,” Alex said. “We need to find Eerie.”

“We will, man, I promise,” Vivik said. “I’ll start working on it right now.”

Alex looked as if he were about to lose his temper, but then he suddenly deflated, his shoulders slumping and his expression slackening.

“Just let me know, okay?” Alex looked defeated. “As soon as you find her. That’s all I ask.”

“Of course,” Vivik said. “I promise. I want to find Eerie too.”

“As do I,” Emily said. “It is absolutely crucial that we locate the Changeling. You don’t need to worry, Alex. We all want the same thing.”

“You will give us the afternoon,” Katya demanded, taking Alex by the arm and dragging him away. “No interruptions for any reason other than finding Eerie, the end of the world included.”

Vivik nodded, while Emily smiled and waved.

“Certainly. Why not?” Emily spoke too quietly for anyone other than Vivik to hear. “I have better things to do anyway.”

***

Simeon Yurchenko took a deep breath and then exhaled completely, all his attention focused on his target and the view through his rifle’s scope. He made final adjustments to his position and slowed his breathing. Every chromed component of the rifle had been treated with anti-reflective gel, and his arms and face were stained with it as well.

One click left, Brandon Cree advised, staring through binoculars while he lay prone beside Simeon in the brush, close as lovers. The shot is easy enough, but the timing is brutal. Are you sure?

Simeon considered it while he made a tiny adjustment to his scope, viewing the scene at the other end of the valley with professional detachment. The clearing was in use as a mass grave, the result of the Thule-led purge of the Black Sun and rival Hegemonic cartels from Central.

Equality in death, Simeon thought. He was certain he had read something about that.

A backhoe parked near the tree line had been used to make four grave pits, while a fifth pit was partially dug out and awaiting completion near the creek. Two pits were already backfilled and flattened, bare patches of dirt in stark contrast to the vivid grassland all about.

The other two were in active use, lime spread liberally across the stacked bodies to encourage decomposition.

One held a small family, recently liquidated, a middle-aged man sprawled upside down, frowning across the distance at the Black Sun Operators, the hole punched in his forehead as perfectly centered as a third eye. A Thule Operator leaned on his rifle nearby, stock resting on the ground, while another lit a pair of cigarettes.

A bruised man with his hands tied behind his back knelt by the edge of an adjacent pit, his knees sinking into the dirt, his expression resigned and distant. His head had been crudely shaved, and when Simeon adjusted his scope, he could not help but notice that he was missing both of his ears. Two more Thule Operators stood nearby, chatting casually while one of them fed rounds into an antique revolver.

Let’s try it, Simeon thought. I’m feeling lucky.

Timing is about four seconds. I’ll count down.

Simeon exhaled again, paying careful attention to the rhythm of his heart, his finger squeezing the trigger until he felt the slightest change in resistance.

The Thule Operator laughed and put the revolver to the kneeling man’s head.

Firing in three, two…

Simeon was only vaguely aware of the telepathic countdown, his attention utterly focused on events within the aperture of the scope, the increasing tension in the Operator’s trigger finger, the indifference on the face of the man about to be executed.

One.

The Thule Operator pulled the trigger, and Simeon did the same, putting a single 7.62 mm round between the eyes of one of the Operators at the adjacent pit.

The prisoner’s head snapped forward, and he tumbled gracelessly into the pit to take his place atop the lime-sprinkled corpses. The executioner paused to investigate his revolver in confusion. The remaining Thule Operator tossed his cigarette aside and bent to check his comrade, who was slumped against the wall with his hand pressed to his forehead, blood pouring down his face.

A nearby sentry tower was hurriedly manned. The siren at the Thule encampment wailed belatedly as Operators took defensive positions on the hill above the mass grave. The Operator Simeon shot was dragged up the hill and into the encampment by his companions, with very little care shown to his mortal wound.

“Well?” Daniel Gao shifted quietly in the blind behind them. “Did it work?”

Brandon Cree said nothing, his eyes shut and his forehead creased.

“Be quiet,” Simeon said, ejecting the spent shell casing from his rifle, and catching it before it could hit the ground. “Brandon is still…”

I’m finished now, Brandon said, shifting beside Simeon. The plan worked, if you are curious. The distraction was enough for me to access unprotected short-term memories.

“You have a location, then?” Simeon worked quickly to break down the rifle, while Brandon and Daniel bagged the rest of their gear. “Is she already in Thule hands?”

Brandon nodded grimly.

“She was picked up yesterday,” Brandon explained. “One of the Thule goons saw her alive this morning. She’s exactly where she said she would be.”

“A whole day in captivity,” Daniel Gao said, narrowing his eyes. “What sort of condition is she in?”

Brandon shrugged.

“Alive,” Brandon said, with an uncomfortable shrug. “As of this morning.”

“I doubt that Thule would liquidate her,” Simeon said. “Sara’s contact claimed that she was picked up specifically, on orders from high up, maybe even the Thule family itself. She wasn’t just inconvenient, like that lot,” Simeon said, jerking his head in the vague direction of the charnel pits. “They want her for something. Besides, she gave us advance warning. She must still be alive.”

“Unless they already got what they wanted,” Daniel said doubtfully. “One of those Thule degenerates might have just had a thing for her from class or something, you know. Lots of personal stuff mixed in with the actual conflict.”

“It’s possible,” Brandon agreed, capping the lenses on the binoculars. “That’s an awfully negligent way to treat a precog, though. They don’t grow on trees.”

“Yeah, she’s valuable,” Simeon said, hoisting the rifle bag on to his shoulder and unzipping the rear exit to the blind. “Let’s hope that’s enough to keep her alive.”

***

“You want a beer?”

“More than love or money or fucking anything,” Alex said, sitting beside Katya in the negligible shadow of a recently planted willow. “Yes, please.”

“Thank God for that,” Katya said, laughing as she opened a muddy cooler. “I’ve been drinking alone since yesterday, and it’s getting boring.”

Alex laughed and took the dripping can she offered.

“Since yesterday? What happened?”

“A vampire – Leigh Feld, you know her? – bailed me and Renton out of some Thule dungeon. They rushed him straight into surgery while I was stuck in the back seat of a jeep for hours, watching Leigh drive around Central, waiting for something to happen. We got back to the Far Shores yesterday evening. Emily brought some people with her, from the Outer Dark, or wherever. Some of them I recognize, most I don’t. They set up where they liked, and my whole dorm was appropriated. There are two boys staying in what used to be my room,” Katya said, wrinkling her nose. “Anyway, I slept in your room, but I cleaned up first. I washed the sheets before and after.”

“Come on! My room isn’t that bad.” Alex sipped his beer. “What was Leigh waiting for?”

“I’m not sure, but it has something to do with Processing,” Katya said, lowering her voice. “And something to do with a guy named Adel.”

“That sounds familiar,” Alex said, pinching his lip. “Can’t place it, though.”

“We were supposed to pick him up after we left the Thule base,” Katya said. “Something went wrong, and we never even went near Processing. We just drove around until Leigh got telepathic instructions, then we drove out here.”

“And there was, you know,” Alex said, lowering his voice as well, “no one here?”

“You mean Auditors, or staff, or something?”

Alex nodded.

“The Audits facility was empty. First thing I did was excuse myself to take a shower, then I ducked out the bathroom window and ran over to the Administration building. It was deserted, too,” Katya said, gesturing at the vacant commons. “Emily’s people set up in the townhouses they built for the permanent staff out here, and they are using the labs and the commissary and stuff, plus a couple of the dorms, but everything else is empty.”

“Everyone must have left,” Alex said. “Where did they go, do you think?”

“No idea, but it’s a safe bet that Thule has something to do with it. Same way they are responsible for, you know,” Katya said, gesturing with her can in the direction of the columns of smoke trailing from Central, “all that bullshit.”

“This is so fucking weird,” Alex said, drumming the numb tips of his replaced fingers on the can. “Where are the Auditors when you need them?”

“I think ‘the Auditors’ is pretty much just us, unless we got kicked out. I sure haven’t seen anybody else.” Katya tossed an empty can into the brush. “Can I ask you something?”

Alex nodded.

“Of course, anything.”

“Good, ’cause I have a bunch of questions.”

“I figured. I’m kinda curious about a couple things, myself.”

“I didn’t accidentally flirt with my cousin on a beach in Vietnam, though, so I go first.”

“I hoped you had forgotten about that.” Alex reddened. “Sorry. I, uh, didn’t know.”

“Don’t worry about it. I’ve been hit on by more obnoxious cousins.” Katya laughed as she rummaged through the cooler. “There’s no easy way to ask, so…yeah. Are you aware of what your girlfriend has been up to?”

“You mean Eerie?”

“Yes, dimwit. Eerie. She is your girlfriend, right?”

“Right. It’s just strange to hear you say it. Time got very weird for me, while I was in the Outer Dark. Is she okay?”

“She was okay when I saw her last. I’ll explain, I promise. But my question first. What the shit, Alex?”

“What?”

“Eerie! You know, right? Who you used to be? How you got to be this way?”

Alex shrugged.

“You don’t get off that easy,” Katya said. “Answer me. What do you know?”

Alex tried to turn away, but Katya grabbed his forearm and held him there.

“Alex. No bullshit. C’mon.”

“Fine. I know…” Alex sighed and closed his eyes, rubbing the one he could just barely feel, the eye that had the disquieting tendency to continue seeing, closed or not. “Samnang showed me some things. Not memories, I can’t…they were dreams, I guess. I still don’t really remember any of it, not like it happened to me; just little things I dream about sometimes. In the dreams, everyone calls me Alexei something…”

“Rostov,” Katya said quietly, her lip trembling slightly. “Alexander Rostov.”

“Yeah. Part of a family,” Alex said, with a clouded expression. “An important one, in the Black Sun. I remember little bits of that.”

“Really?” Katya perked up slightly. “Like what?”

“I remember what I think might be my mother, occasionally,” Alex said. “Not anything concrete, just her hair, the way it smelled.”

“What else?”

“I remember Anastasia as a little kid. Just what she looked like.”

“I’m not surprised. She hasn’t changed that much. Do you remember Leila, your older sister?”

“Not really,” Alex said. “I’m sorry. I know it’s not really what you wanted to hear.”

“That’s okay,” Katya said, her voice desultory. “I’m not sure why it matters to me. Do you remember anything about the night when…?” Katya shook her head. “...when everything went wrong? Do you remember that?”

“Not at all,” Alex said, shaking his head. “Samnang showed me bits and pieces, maybe, but it all could have been lies. Illusions, you know? I can’t believe any of it.”

“Then you don’t know why…” Katya grimaced. “Alex, I’m sorry. Everything was my fault.”

“Your fault?” Alex hesitated. “You mean the thing with my sister and the Sewing Circle? I know all about that. Samnang showed me. You can’t possibly think you’re responsible for what happened.”

“I didn’t want to save you,” Katya said, hugging her knees. “I wanted Leila.”

“Katya, don’t…”

“I wanted to save my friend and I got you instead, because Eerie fucked me over, in her oblivious way.” Katya smiled mirthlessly. “I got you, Alex, and I didn’t want anything to do with you.”

“I don’t blame you.”

“I do. I blame me for all of it. I threw you away, Alex. After my parents threw me and Timor away, I turned right around and did the same thing to you.”

“Oh, come on. It’s not like you put me out on the street.”

“It was worse than that.” Katya sniffled. “I let Ana take care of the problem, and I put it out of my mind. I knew what she would do, Alex. I know Ana. She uses everything she touches.”

“Katya…”

“I don’t know what sort of deal Eerie and Ana cut behind my back,” Katya said dully. “I knew Ana had hidden you away, and I knew that meant she had a purpose for you, or she wouldn’t have bothered. She could have put you in a bag and drowned you in a lake beneath the ice, Alex, and I would never have said a thing. I would have been grateful, because then I wouldn’t have had to deal with the reminder.”

Alex rubbed his numb eye, which was cold to the touch.

“I mean, that’s kinda fucked, but…”

“It’s fucked. You’re right. It’s all been a mess ever since I got involved.”

“What’s your alternative scenario? Are you suggesting that it would have been better to leave me to die?”

Katya shook her head.

“Look at it from my perspective,” Alex said, nudging Katya with his elbow. “You got involved for your own reasons, I get that. You cared about Leila, so you wanted to protect her, even if it cost you. That’s pretty admirable.”

“Right, but…”

“I’m not finished! You walked away when you got me instead of Leila. So what? You were a kid, Katya. Kids are supposed to be selfish. What’s better for me, in the end? You don’t get involved, Eerie doesn’t get involved, and I die.”

“That’s true, I suppose, but…”

“Could you please be quiet? You wanna know what I think about Eerie messing with my life, right?” Alex said, smiling at her. “I don’t really care one bit.”

“Do you think she made you not care?”

“Maybe, maybe not. It works out the same either way.”

Katya giggled as she wiped her eyes.

“There’s no talking you down until after you guys fuck, right?” Katya smirked. “You’ve changed, you know.”

Alex smirked.

“Yeah? How do you mean?”

“I’m not really sure. You seem older, maybe a little more grown up. What happened to you, anyway? You were in the Outer Dark for a long time.” The ghosts of old torment raced across Katya’s face. “Was it…how bad was it?”

Alex looked away. He cleared his throat.

Then he told her.

***

They moved through the western suburbs of Central, where the locals used dynamite to clear land for estates and small ranches. Water from the foothills collected in creeks and pools, some of which was captured for civic use, while the remainder ran through steep-walled culverts into the vast and unmapped drains that ran beneath Central.

Most of the fires were extinguished, but whole blocks had been reduced to blackened wood and soot-stained rock. Cinders and broken glass crunched beneath their boots as they moved in the near-dark. The greater volume of the screaming was spent, only occasional whimpers and pleas leaking from forced doorways and commandeered residences.

Twice, they had to vacate the road.

It was a small caravan, the first time, a pair of jeeps escorting a white panel truck, rattling through the checkpoints on the way out of Central. Ksenia bumped Simeon’s elbow, showing him the claymore at the top of her bag. He considered the explosive briefly before shaking his head.

The convoy passed at high speed, the truck so heavily burdened that it rode on its axles.

The second time Brandon Cree warned them of oncoming traffic, they had more time to react, scrambling up the slope on the left-hand side of the road and taking concealment in the heather that grew thickly there.

They had to wait, because this convoy moved slowly.

A small group of Thule Operators led a line of prisoners down the middle of the road, the Operators sauntering along beside their captives, pausing occasionally to bark orders or deliver blows with batons or rifle butts. Simeon watched them approach in the magnified view of a rifle scope, his stomach tightening as he picked out details.

“Those are civilians. See Hana, up front there? She was in my calculus class, third year,” Matheus whispered, leaning over his own rifle. “Do you see? I count…”

“Yes,” Simeon hissed. “I see.”

Ksenia grimaced and looked at him expectantly. Serafina Ricci pushed aside some of the branches for a better view, her face ashen at the sight.

The group came around the bend, a short queue of prisoners with arms tied behind their backs, herded by laughing men with guns. The prisoners were a motley collection of children, teenagers, and seniors. To Simeon’s eyes, many looked to be related, likely the noncombatant members of the smaller cartels.

Half of them aren’t even Operators, Brandon pointed out, with an expression of disgust. No Etheric Signature.

“Mr. Yurchenko,” Serafina whispered, tugging his sleeve. “Please do something.”

No one said or thought anything else, but Simeon could feel the combined eyes of his ad hoc unit on his back. He considered the guards and their M4 rifles, their proximity to the target, and the chances of discovery.

He considered duty. He considered morale.

He worried about Lady Martynova, and what she might want.

From a tactical standpoint, the decision was an easy one. Any action this close to their objective threatened the mission, and Brandon could not match any of the prisoners to Black Sun databases. Though they were unfortunates, it was very likely that they were Hegemonic unfortunates, and therefore not his problem.

Unit morale, however, was very much his problem, and his troops had seen a great deal of horror in a short time. Daniel Gao was reliably indifferent, but his own people were less certain.

Ksenia was the closest thing in his unit to a veteran, with ten or so deployments to her record, while Matheus had only completed his first successful Operation a few months earlier, and they were not yet inured to the barbarism of the field. Brandon was accustomed to administrative and diplomatic assignments. All of them were mortified and enraged by the mass graves and the wanton killing, rather than focused on their mission.

Then, of course, there was Serafina Ricci to consider. They had rescued her recently, on Lady Martynova’s orders, and she was certain to sympathize with the plight of the captured. It was just as certain that she would have the ear of the Mistress of the Black Sun, when this was over, for good or ill.

Simeon did not notice that he was biting his cheek until he tasted blood.

Daniel, are you in position?

In position and waiting.

How quiet can you make this?

Pretty quiet. Can you handle the two closest to you?

Simeon glanced in the direction of their target, wondering how much longer she had. He nodded to Ksenia, who slipped into the brush, and then turned his attention back to the road.

Go ahead and…

Daniel Gao appeared behind the rear guard as if spliced into a film, one moment absent, the next standing behind a nonchalant Thule Operator, the only sound the scraping of the soles of his boots on the roadway and the air whistling through the Operator’s severed windpipe as Daniel cut his throat, a hand clamped over his mouth to prevent him from screaming. Daniel steered the dying man to the ground, and then disappeared again.

Simeon counted in his head, sweat beading on his forehead and pouring from beneath his arms.

Three seconds later, one of the guards on the far side of the line of prisoners reeled, clutching his head as he stumbled from the road onto the gravel shoulder. The guard moaned as he dropped to his knees, and then he was silenced by a second blow to the back of the head.

The guard ahead of him spun around, raising his gun and opening his mouth. A bloodied knife came sailing out of the darkness, burying itself up to the hilt in the Thule Operator’s belly. Whatever words he intended were choked off by the blood that came spilling out of his mouth.

The prisoners noticed and recoiled, while the remaining pair of guards spun about and reached for the rifles dangling from their shoulders.

Simeon crept from his position, moving slowly down the slope with his rifle resting against his hip.

A suppressed pistol discharged twice from where Ksenia crouched in the heather, a pair of muted thuds accompanied by a distinctive hiss. One guard was caught between the eyes, folding up on the ground gracefully, as if he intended a spontaneous nap, while the other took the round in the neck, a great gout of blood spewing from his carotid artery.

Simeon bashed him in the back of the head with the butt of his rifle. Daniel extracted his knife from the throat of a dying Operator, and then bent over the flailing body of his companion, ending his respiratory struggle.

Brandon telepathically reassured the prisoners while Serafina stepped between them, cutting their zip ties. Simeon covered all of them with a bulky FN rifle, doing his best to look nonthreatening.

There are eight in total, but only six can walk further. Brandon glanced at him as he helped an elderly woman to the side of the road. If it’s a long walk, only five will make it. Two need urgent medical attention, and another is in a state of arrested psychological collapse.

Simeon gave the freed prisoners a once over. An elderly couple, sitting beside each other on the gravel shoulder, the woman rubbing the man’s bruised wrists. A pair of brothers, both under the age of twelve, one of whom sported a violet halo around his left eye and a swollen lip. A teenage boy, with torn clothes and traumatized eyes, comforted by an older girl in even rougher shape who might have been his sister. A plump older man, shaved bald and beaten until his face was purple, the fingers of his right hand badly broken. A middle-aged woman who wept constantly and seemed unaware of it, crouching by herself in the dust.

We can’t leave them, and we can’t bring them with, Simeon decided, watching as Serafina and Matheus attended to the terrified prisoners. We can’t abandon our mission, either, or there will be no one to rescue. We’ll need to split up.

Ksenia gave him a startled look, but Simeon silenced her with a gesture.

Sara, do you think you can…?

“Yes,” Serafina said, smiling at him as she wrapped a bandage around the beaten man’s arm. “I can get them back to camp.”

He took a moment to consider, long enough to convince his subordinates that his decision was thoughtful, but not enough of a delay to worry them.

Brandon, you’ll need to go with her, to hold them together until you get to camp. The telepath nodded in agreement. Ksenia, Matheus, I need you to guard them on the way.

Ksenia’s eyes widened in shock. She touched his arm, activating their private telepathic channel, implanted before the mission began.

You can’t be serious! Simeon, you’ll need me!

I know, but there’s no choice. I need Daniel to get inside, and I can’t send Serafina and Brandon alone.

You can’t take Matheus with you, at least?

If one of the people we just rescued goes into shock or collapses, he’s the only one that can do something about it. If we’re going to rescue them, Ksenia, we need to get them out of here safely.

Send Daniel, then, and take me with you!

You know he’s not under my command. How would that work, anyway? Daniel is key to infiltrating the estate.

Telekinetic assault. I’ll Poltergeist the whole place, Ksenia thought grimly. It’s worked before.

With a prisoner inside? She’ll be dead long before we find her.

Simeon, Ksenia thought. This is a bad idea.

It’s the best I’ve got. What do you want me to do?

Have Brandon put the prisoners to sleep and leave them in the bushes. If we are successful, we can pick them up on the way back. If we fail, they’re dead anyway.

Simeon thought it over. It really wasn’t the worst idea.

No, he decided. It won’t work.

Why not?

They’ll slow us down on the exfil, Simeon explained. What if we have to break her out the loud way? What if we are pursued? I can’t risk it. Just get them back to the emergency camp alive, Ksenia. You’re the only one I trust to do it.

Ksenia’s eyes told him she wanted to say more, but he cut off the channel with a gesture of annoyance.

“Does everyone know what they’re supposed to do?” Simeon growled. “Everyone clear?”

“Yes,” Serafina said, taking his hand and squeezing it briefly. “And thank you.”

Simeon found himself at a loss for words.

Matheus and Daniel shared a grin, while Ksenia laughed and elbowed him in the side.

“Let’s get it done,” Simeon growled, picking up his rifle. “The night is getting away from us.”

***

“She really wanted to rescue you, you know.”

Alex nodded, pleasantly buzzed, sitting beside Katya in the dead grass. The afternoon was warm enough, when they were shielded from the wind that pushed the smoke from Central like dirt clods across the sky.

“I don’t mean that she wrote about it in her journal, or stayed up at night praying,” Katya said, opening a bag of potato chips to accompany her third beer. “She moved heaven and earth to try and save you.”

“I know,” Alex said, drumming his numb fingertips on the ground. “I wasn’t sure what it was, at the time, but she did something. I felt it, even in the Outer Dark. I don’t know what, exactly, but…”

“Eerie changed something. Created a chance,” Katya explained, chewing. “I think that’s what she said.”

“I felt it for sure, in that chamber, in the dream that Samnang created. I knew it was her, somehow.”

“You guys are so cute, it kinda makes me sick.”

“It wasn’t just Eerie. I know you were there with her,” Alex said, grinning. “Samnang knew you were coming, and she panicked. Accelerated her process. She took chances she didn’t need to take, because she was worried about you guys.”

“There’s that,” Katya said, smiling despite herself. “I’m glad it wasn’t completely pointless.”

“No way.”

“I’m serious,” Katya said, shaking her head. “We really wanted to help you.”

“I know. It matters to me that you tried.”

“I’m not sure if that makes me feel better or worse.” Katya took a long sip from her beer. “Eerie thinks that she’s in love with you, you know.”

Alex’s face ran through a sequence of contradictory expressions.

“Thinks?”

“The balance of power in your relationship is insanely skewed.” Katya shrugged. “For two people who are supposedly destined for each other, you can barely hold a conversation.”

“That’s…”

“Oh, please. She might be perfect for you,” Katya said. “You might be head over heels for her. That doesn’t change the facts. You barely know anything about her, and she knows everything about you. That’s a weird situation.”

“So…you’re against it?” Alex set his beer aside. “Against us being together?”

“It’s creepy that Eerie was so involved in everything, but you aren’t the first guy I’ve known to become his girlfriend’s improvement project. I don’t want a say in your love life, I just want you to know what you are getting into.” Katya crumpled the empty bag and shoved it in her jacket pocket. “I feel like I have something to make up for.”

Alex blinked several times in astonishment.

“You…what? Make up for what?”

“For leaving you to Ana and Eerie. For throwing a fit and walking away when I didn’t get what I wanted. I didn’t look after you, even though that’s what Leila would have wanted me to do, and look what happened!”

“It’s not on you. I already said that,” Alex said forcefully. “It’s my life, Katya, no matter what anyone thinks.”

Katya laughed as she wiped her eyes.

“I should have just let the Outer Dark take you prisoner right from the start,” she said. “You’ve got it all figured out now.”

“Not really,” Alex admitted. “But I’m trying.”

***

The estate had been hastily occupied in the last few days, as Thule supremacy had swelled from substantial to near universal in the western suburbs of Central, the area unofficially reserved for those deemed unworthy of Introduction and Activation. A sprawling expanse of land that hugged the misty foothills, ancient foundations and fallen stone walls scattered among the ranches and country homes.

This estate was wide open, only a pair of ornamental stone walls between the house and the road. The estate was built in peaceful times and had never been meant to be secure.

Daniel Gao killed a guard on the way in, sneaking up behind her and stabbing her in the neck. He dragged her to the ground with his hand covering her mouth, holding her in a perverse embrace until her body went slack. They could have evaded her easily, taking advantage of the mist and the banks of Ether that clung to the hills, the rough ground, and the long grass, but Simeon wanted a clear path of escape.

They left her body beside some saplings at the side of a nearby creek, the top half of the body lying in the creek bed. The creek was little more than a trickle of water descending from distant hills, but it had already started to coat the body with mud as they moved on toward the manor house.

Daniel ranged ahead, Simeon marking his presence by occasional ripples in the grass.

They did not bring a telepath by Simeon’s design, instead relying on hand signs and whistles, Daniel making himself visible at intervals to indicate direction. The night was utterly still, and so quiet that Simeon caught himself holding his breath. He followed Daniel’s footprints through the pastureland, the rifle strapped tight to his back and tied down to suppress any rattle. Simeon had attached a suppressor to the muzzle before they departed camp, but that would not conceal the sound of a shot. It did little more than allow him to fire the heavy .308 without ear protection.

Near the second cosmetic fence that surrounded the manor garden and driveway, Daniel left another body huddled in a nest of wild grass, so well concealed by the feathered tufts that Simeon nearly tripped over it. It was a man this time – a boy, really, no more than a teenager – whose blood dribbled into the perpetually thirsty earth, his throat cut so wide he appeared to have a second, larger mouth in his neck. As Simeon crept past the body, he was briefly troubled by the impression that the corpse’s eyes followed him.

He caught up to Daniel in a dirt lot that separated the whitewashed barn from the Tuscan-style residential compound. Daniel was frozen in place like an illuminated deer, one hand extended, a bloodied knife concealed behind his back.

Two dogs circled Simeon, whining in agitation, while a bolder pair of dogs advanced on Daniel, growling deeply. Daniel’s fingers tightened around the hilt of the knife, and the lead dog prepared to charge, chest muscles bunching.

Simeon pushed Daniel aside hurriedly, snatching the dog out of midair, seizing the broad flaps of skin below the ears and behind the slavering jaws. He twisted and pulled, sending the dog sprawling into the dust.

The remaining dogs started to bark.

Simeon activated his protocol, and the dogs were knocked from their paws and sent flying, as if by a great wind, tumbling relatively harmlessly into the broad grassy field behind the barn.

Daniel rubbed his shoulder and watched Simeon with veiled amusement.

“Was that quieter?”

“Not at all,” Simeon snapped. “I simply prefer not to kill dogs.”

“What an odd concern,” Daniel said, vanishing. “Do you think the Mistress will appreciate your sentimentality?”

Simeon grimaced and followed the fresh footprints in the dust toward the villa, every window in the place shining with light the color of butter.

“I do not presume to guess what Lady Martynova prefers,” Simeon said. “I take her at her word.”

Laughter from thin air, not too far ahead.

“Ever the loyal servant,” Daniel remarked. “Tell me, old friend – what sort of Great Lady do you believe would marry her servant?”

Simeon said nothing as they advanced toward the house, winding their way through an ornamental garden on a path of decayed granite.

“You will lose the contest if you don’t take the initiative,” Daniel said, his voice cool and mocking. “The field has already narrowed.”

“How so?”

“Are you really that far behind? I shouldn’t be so nice, considering that we are competing, but I just can’t help but feel bad for you, Simeon.” Invisible laughter raised the hackles on Simeon’s back. “Peter Rurikovich is dead, God piss on his grave.”

More laughter.

“You always hated him, didn’t you, Simeon? Over what’s her name…Rachel, wasn’t it?”

“Yes,” Simeon said dully. “I never liked him.”

“Nor did I,” Daniel said. “He was always obsequious whenever a superior was around, but heaven help the underling left in his authority. Impulsive as all hell, too.”

“How did he die?”

“I’m not a hundred percent, but I overheard something on the way to camp with Serafina.” Daniel was suddenly visible beside him, climbing a set of stairs to the main building in the villa. “I heard he went straight at Lord Thule.”

“That is exactly the sort of thing I would expect from Peter.”

“I guess Lord Thule was expecting it, as well,” Daniel said, grinning. “Peter challenged him to a duel on the spot, and poor Peter died.”

“How?”

“I heard you ask the first time, but I don’t know.”

Daniel disappeared again as they approached the long, cypress-lined walk that led to the front door.

“What about Maxim?”

“Maxim?” Daniel’s voice seemed to come from one of the carefully trimmed columns of cypress ahead and to his left. “I’m sure he’s in Central somewhere. Just waiting in the shadows for the right time to fuck this up for all of us.”

***

Maxim had spent the day concealed in a thicket of blackberries, doing his best to hold still and not scratch the many places the thorns had punctured his skin, even as mosquitos settled on his arms and face. When the night finally darkened the sky, he was sore and itching, and had cultivated a fantastic reservoir of ill will toward the entirety of humanity, the Thule Operators he was watching in the valley below most of all.

The time since sunset had been more encouraging.

He had trailed the Operators for the better part of a day simply because they were the first people he encountered. They were professional enough to set a guard as they settled down for the night, but not professional enough to set that guard out of the range of the camp lights, in the same dark that Maxim crept through, so that they might have had a chance to see him coming. Maxim crossed the last several meters with incredible patience, waiting until he was sure that he had the drop on the perimeter guard. He timed his route, waiting for him to pass, and then snatched the guard from behind in a Krav Maga grip, squeezing and wrenching until he crushed his windpipe and snapped his neck.

Maxim rolled the body into a nearby bush, taking the bolt-action rifle and rucksack the guard had carried with him.

There was a second guard posted, too far inside the perimeter to make any real difference, dozing with the butt of his rifle planted in the ground, close enough to be both warmed by the fire and dazzled by its light.

Maxim raised his hand in greeting as he approached, and the Thule Operator responded the same way, peering at the approaching figure and likely making out nothing but an outline. That got him within a few meters. Maxim activated his protocol, comforted by the immediacy of the visual overlay, coding threats and priorities in a veritable rainbow of superimposed hues.

Delphi, he thought, out of long habit and personal preference. Telepaths at the top.

All about him, the colors shifted as his protocol performed its tactical magic. The guard he approached noticed something that disturbed him, and called out uncertainly, tentatively readying his rifle. Maxim did not hurry.

There was no need.

The guard drew a bead on Maxim as he advanced, but his protocol assured him that he was not ready to shoot while still uncertain who approached. Maxim waited until he could see the serrations at the edge of the bayonet on the old Soviet Mauser rifle. The warning indicator shifted to orange, and Maxim tensed. His protocol suggested a direction, and Maxim moved his head just slightly as the rifle discharged. Maxim felt the bullet rush by his ear before he heard the shot.

Maxim did not so much as break stride.

His protocol tagged a potential telepath opposite the fire, perhaps twenty meters away. Maxim considered angles as the guard’s second shot skipped harmlessly along the ground to his right.

He reached for the hatchet that hung at his belt, a stainless-steel tomahawk that a Polish friend had forged as a birthday gift. The guard yelled for help, and Maxim saw figures stirring from blankets and sleeping bags around the campfire. The guard took a third shot, the muzzle flare on the old bolt-action almost touching Maxim’s unarmored chest, a puff of hot air ruffling his shirt.

The shot went over Maxim’s shoulder.

The guard – an aging man with blonde hair turning rapidly grey and a two-week-old beard – gave Maxim an astonished look, and then attempted to plunge the saw-toothed bayonet into Maxim’s chest. Maxim grabbed the rifle on approach, wincing as he grasped the hot barrel, and then tore the weapon free and flung it over his shoulder and into the night.

Maxim could hear people calling and weapons being readied further in the camp, and set Delphi loose, sorting and tagging.

The guard turned to run, and Maxim planted the hatchet in his neck. The blade gouged a ravine in his flesh and bounced off his spine. The man toppled over and moaned weakly. Maxim whipped the hatchet across the back of his neck like a pendulum, severing his spinal column.

Automatic fire peppered the ground around Maxim, kicking up miniature clouds of dust. His vision was tinted red as his protocol labored. Maxim grimaced and unslung the rifle, firing off a couple of shots as he walked forward, trusting his protocol to optimize his aim, and the reverse effect to keep him safe from the fire.

The gunfire became sporadic as the Thule personnel adjusted positions and sought cover. Maxim cast the rifle aside and broke into a sprint, clearing the remaining distance before his opposition could take aim.

They attempted an improvised ambush, concealing themselves behind a bit of ancient masonry that had resisted the settlers’ explosives. Maxim studied their outlines as he advanced on the crumbling block of stone, the nearest tagged bright orange, indicating that the woman on the other side of the wall was likely a pyrokinetic.

Maxim slowed his stride and crouched, returning the hatchet to a loop on his belt. He snatched up a pair of good-sized rocks as he went, each about the size of a grapefruit. He followed a serpentine path full of sudden turns and shuffles, each movement dictated by Delphi, as bullets whistled and hummed harmlessly about him in the dark.

Maxim tracked the red outline waiting on the other side of the old wall. He moved closer, and then tossed one of the rocks ahead into the dark. The outline lunged forward with her bayonetted rifle, stabbing wildly at nothing. Maxim pitched the second rock into his would-be ambusher’s head. The woman dropped her rifle and clutched her head, giving Maxim time to trot over and finish her with the hatchet.

A gunshot punctured the ground at his feet. Maxim looked up calmly.

Delphi, he thought. Evaluate.

Four Thule Operators waited on him in a nearby culvert. Three had rifles, while the fourth illuminated the scene with the strands of vividly blue energy that arched over his shoulders like wings. Maxim shaded his eyes and looked them over, wiping his hatchet on the dead man’s sleeve.

“You in the back,” Maxim said, his protocol outlining one of the Thule Operators with a golden hue, to indicate a probable telepath. “Does your protocol still work?”

They responded with laughter, more nervous than haughty, and uncertain glances. They moved to more exposed positions, utterly confident that Maxim was blind, unable to see anything but the sapphire-colored light.

That was true, but also incidental.

“Answer the question,” Maxim growled. “It could save your life.”

More laughter, then the telepath glanced at the Operator on his flank. That Operator – tall and tagged blue, indicating a direct energy protocol – shrugged and nodded.

“My protocol works,” the man said, the length of his vowels a distant affirmation of West Texas roots. “I get nosebleeds, though, and headaches, even after a few seconds…”

“That’s enough, Jessie,” the shorter, pink-tagged figure snapped. “Who are you? Who do you work for?”

“I serve the Mistress of the Black Sun,” Maxim said, reaching for his pistol. “I am here to deliver some bad news.”

“Really?” At a nod from the pink-accented Operator, the sapphire glow intensified, radiance pouring from the twin arcs poised above the Thule Operator’s shoulders like elongated bones from some exotic fossil. “What news is that?”

“My Mistress has ordered me to kill you all.”

There was no way to tell the gunshots apart by sound, but the Delphi Protocol informed Maxim that he shot first, by a fraction of a second, his shot striking the dark-blue figure near the end of the culvert that his protocol had been unable to identify. Maxim hustled out of the way just before a bolt of light cooked the area like a high-wattage laser, firing as he moved. He hit the glowing Operator several times, finally dropping him with the last round in the magazine. An M4 rifle spat bullets at Maxim from somewhere behind, overwhelming his protocol. He was already reloading as he spun about, grimacing when one of the rounds grazed his side. Maxim ignored the pain and returned fire, puncturing the left lung of his attacker with the first round and then knocking the rifle from his grasp with the second.

Maxim walked up close to put a final round through his head.

The pink outline tossed her rifle and ran.

Maxim snapped off a quick shot that dropped her before she made it far, but decided he had more important things to do than finish her off right then.

The Thule telepath was perhaps the best of the lot. The Texan smiled at Maxim and tossed a grenade his way in a low, easy arc, like a friendly softball pitch, simultaneously launching a telepathic attack to keep Maxim pinned in place.

It was more than the Delphi Protocol could deal with head-on, so Maxim improvised.

He caught the grenade with one hand, his feet rooted to the ground to the extent that he suspected that his shoes might come off if he attempted to take a step. Maxim tossed the grenade over his shoulder.

The detonation showered them with clods of dirt and knocked them both over. The telepath’s hold on Maxim wavered, and he moved quickly, before the telepath could recover.

Maxim pulled the telepath from the debris and then shook him vigorously, rattling his skull until his eyes rolled open. Maxim forced the telepath to his knees, and then placed his gun against the Thule Operator’s head.

“I have questions. If I feel you in my head, then I will put a bullet in yours,” Maxim said, spitting dirt from between his teeth, “Do you understand?”

“Yes.”

The Thule Operator nodded, surprisingly composed for the situation.

“Good. Can you reach Central?”

“You are a telepath yourself, aren’t you?” He studied Maxim with evident disbelief. “You must know.”

“Combat telepathy,” Maxim growled, prodding the man with his pistol. “I don’t read minds.”

“Neither does anybody else, just lately,” the Thule telepath said. “Not outside of eye contact.”

“Can you reach anywhere at all? The Network, maybe?”

“Don’t you think we tried? They told us line-of-sight, before it all came crashing down, and that’s what works.”

“You knew this was coming? You were briefed?”

“Of course I was!” The telepath looked at him indignantly. “This was a planned Operation. Whatever you do to me, it doesn’t matter. The Black Sun is dead, and the Thule Cartel owns Central.”

Maxim sighed. The Delphi Protocol whispered in his head, warning of a spike of telepathic activity.

“So, you really can’t communicate with anyone?”

“That’s not entirely true,” the telepath said, smiling as blood poured from his nose, blooming like a red carnation on his white cotton shirt. “I just managed to reach Thule command, to warn them you were coming. It was quite a strain, but I made it through.”

Maxim scratched the stubble on his neck.

“Good. Are they watching us now?”

“They see what I see. A dead man,” the telepath confirmed, bleeding into the sand. “You have something you want to say?”

“Not necessary. I’d rather show than tell.”

Maxim hefted the hatchet. The telepath was probably dead after the first blow, but he kept at it until his head drooped off the front of his neck like a grotesque necklace.

He cleaned the hatchet and reloaded the pistol, whistling tunelessly to himself as he worked.

Maxim readied himself to leave, and then Delphi nudged him.

One more? Oh, yeah! Pinky. Thanks, Delphi.

He followed pink arrows on the ground to where she had crawled behind a half-rotten fallen tree, wheezing and sniffling, a ballistic plate with a bullet lodged in the center discarded near her feet. If Maxim had to guess, she was still a student at the Academy, but Maxim was terrible with ages.

Especially girls.

“You talk to your protocol like it’s a person,” she said, looking much more curious than afraid. “Why is that?”

“Force of habit,” Maxim said. “Did you ever have an imaginary friend?”

She was smaller than he expected, with giant brown eyes and long brown hair bunched into a single braid. Even the smallest size of combat gear looked comical on her.

“Not that I remember,” the girl said pleasantly. “I have lots of real ones, though.”

“Bad analogy, then. I work alone, in the field, and sometimes it feels better, like I have someone watching my back.” Maxim aimed the gun at her forehead. “Why am I telling you these things?”

“I am an empath,” the girl explained, smiling hesitantly. “And an excellent listener.”

Maxim’s finger tensed on the trigger.

“How old are you?”

“Nineteen.”

Maxim pushed the gun into her cheek.

“Don’t bullshit me.”

“I’m not!” The girl put her hands up on either side of her head. “I’m nineteen! I swear!”

Maxim squinted at her, but it was impossible to tell.

“Still a rookie,” Maxim grumbled. “Who puts such green troops in the field?”

“This area has already been suppressed,” the girl explained, leaning away from the pistol. “It was supposed to be a routine patrol. A safe assignment!”

“Yeah. Maybe.”

The girl hesitated, and then smiled at him, gently nudging the gun away from her face.

“I know this isn’t a good moment for either of us,” she said, looking at him intently. “I think it’s important, though, for you to know that I want to live, Maxim.”

“How did you…?”

“Mostly empathy, with a little telepathy as a bonus,” she said, pushing the gun down by his side. “I want to live. I will do anything to make that happen.”

Maxim sighed and looked down at the gun, her hand resting on top of his.

“Goddamn it,” he said, holstering the pistol. “I should have shot you first.”

“You don’t need to do that. I’m going to be very helpful,” she said, her hand still on his, for some reason. “You need to contact someone in Central, right? I can help you. I know where there’s an intact relay and a fixed apport station. I can help you avoid the patrols along the way, and help you get past the guards.”

Maxim swore to himself.

“Why should I trust you?”

“Don’t be silly! You couldn’t help yourself if you tried.”

***

Gaul sat alone in his office, looking out at the Labrador Sea, which had been full of whitecaps and swollen breakers at dawn, when he had first arrived, but was now placid and calm.

Eerily calm, Gaul thought, with absolutely no humor.

He had not slept the night before, despite the burdens of remote psychic surgery, multiple streams of thought competing for time and attention in his overheated brain. He felt the absence of the Network like a lost limb, incomplete calculations and unsupported theories lingering in his mind like phantom pain.

His chief of staff was professional and apologetic, when he interrupted Gaul to show him the broadcast of the slaughtered patrol and Maxim Yurchenko’s bloody warning. The chief of staff waited until after the telepathic broadcast was shared before admitting that Gabriela had been with the patrol, and then left quickly after the admission, to organize troops and begin a search that Gaul knew would be fruitless.

Not because that was the future he had foreseen, but rather by dint of long experience.

His precognition did not extend to family members – or, more frustratingly and mysteriously, to Emily Muir and Anastasia Martynova – and this failing had given Gaul a profound dislike for dealing with what was to him a sort of invisibility.

Gaul brooded over the children he had failed – Brandon, Lóa, and now Gabriela.

He wondered what his brother would have thought, if he had been alive to see the mess he had made of everything, and if he still would have killed himself and obligated Gaul to take over the cartel.

The night had passed slowly, poring over figures and field updates, transferring troops and securing locations, and the day was moving no faster. A telepathically repressed migraine lurked at the back of his mind, waiting to cripple him at a moment of weakness, and his implant was hot enough to cook on.

Lost in contemplation of the dead and the likely dead, the soon to be dead and the invisible, Gaul brooded over the sea, which seemed the inverse of his own mental state – still and untroubled by the world of storms and turbulence that surrounded it.

Used to the grey skies of Central, Gaul winced at the clear blue sky and the way the unobstructed sunlight pierced his pink eyes.

Don’t be so down, a telepathic intrusion suggested to him. Maybe I can help?

Your help is not required, Miss Muir, Gaul thought, shelving his active streams of thought, and disguising his shock at her ability to sidestep his defenses and early-warning systems. I had been told that the disturbance in the Ether…

Yes, yes. Long-distance telepathy is impossible. This conversation is quite painful for me, so I’d appreciate it if we could make it brief.

Whatever other lies the young woman trafficked in, the pain was real. Gaul’s migraine was already bull-rushing its way to the front of his mind, pushing aside thoughts and perceptions to make room for a skull’s worth of agony.

That’s fine by me, Gaul thought, suppressing the pain. What is it that you want?

I want to visit your family home in Iceland. I’ve heard you have the most intriguing baths there, beneath your manor, and I was thinking I would like to take the waters. Do you understand?

I’m afraid that I don’t. There is nothing beneath the house save the family crypt.

Oh, my. I know that it was a big family secret forever, but when poor Brennan Thule made his desperate play for Anastasia and imprisoned her down there, that let the cat out of the bag, don’t you think? It was not a complete surprise, in any case. There have always been rumors about your family’s eccentricities, and their possible source.

It’s never nice to find out that people are talking behind your back.

Take heart, Lord Thule. That sort of jealousy is a form of flattery.

You do not know what you are asking. The waters beneath the manor are poisoned, Miss Muir.

I am very difficult to poison, I assure you.

There are worse things than poison. Assuming you survive, you will be permanently altered by the experience. Some are driven mad.

And some become irrational. Isn’t that right? I’m prepared to roll the dice, Lord Thule.

With the disturbance in the Ether, I don’t see how you could make the trip.

Marcus has taught me all about the shortcuts. It’s a bit of a bother, true, but I think the trouble will be worth it.

You are asking a great deal, Miss Muir. What is it that you are offering in return?

I’ve just finished inventorying some of the odds and ends that I inherited, when I took residence here at the Far Shores. Are you familiar with Dr. Graaf? The scientist who did much of the pioneering work on culturing World Tree cells? He had some very interesting things in his laboratory, locked in a hidden floor safe. Very interesting.

Such as?

I’m not sharing most of it, but the part that might interest you is made of titanium and surgical steel and is exactly the right size to tuck in just above the spinal column.

The implant, Gaul thought, unable to suppress the wave of pure exhaustion that rolled through him. I always wondered what had happened to it.

I’d say that Dr. Graff has a lot to answer for. Don’t you agree, Lord Thule?

Intelligence would indicate that Dr. Graaf is incarcerated at a Black Sun science camp in the Gobi Desert.

Working on Ana’s nanite synthesis project, no doubt. Well, if that’s the case, then perhaps Dr. Graaf has already answered for his sins.

Get to the point, Miss Muir. You have an implant you can’t do anything with. I already have one, myself. Am I supposed to be interested in another?

I already know that you are interested, Emily thought. That’s not all I have to offer, however. You may be the precognitive of the two of us, but I have a premonition that something very final is about to happen to a certain resource here in Central. And once that happens, I’ll be the only source for that unique commodity.

Gaul walked from his desk to the window, but instead of looking out at the sea, he rested his aching head against the cool glass.

The invisible, he thought, and the dead.

From one perspective, I’m neither, but from yours, I suppose that I’m both, Emily thought. Isn’t that fun to think about? So, what do you think? Do you mind if a drop by for a little soak?

***

Katya opened the last can of beer while Alex crumpled an empty bag of chips. The buildings of the Far Shores were largely dark and quiet, and that bothered both of them.

“Help me out here,” Alex said, rubbing his numb eye, unable to completely shake the suspicion that the coldness radiating from it had migrated to the adjacent soft tissue, leaching the sensation from his eyelid and brow. “What do we do next?”

“Why are you asking me?”

“You are older and wiser,” Alex said, grinning. “Plus, you know, I trust you.”

Katya muttered something that sounded like a curse to Alex, maybe in Russian – Ukrainian? – but the lift of her eyebrows made Alex think he might have pleased her.

“I’m not sure what we are supposed to do from here,” Katya said. “There seems to be no way to contact Miss Levy or the Auditors, so that route is closed, assuming we are still on their good side. I can’t get in contact with Timor or Ana, and I’m not sure that I’d want to right now, even if I could. Too many things are unsettled.”

“That doesn’t help.”

“Be quiet, asshole. I’m thinking it out.” Katya took a sip from the can, and then passed it to him. “What do you think Emily and her friends are up to, anyway?”

“I’m not sure. I think maybe they’re trying to set up their own thing, here. Emily said she had something she wanted me to do, but...”

“It’s probably something we don’t want to be involved with.”

“Maybe,” Alex said. “Maybe not.”

“How the fuck is she moving around? Isn’t that impossible right now?”

“I don’t know how she did it, but she just walked us out of the Outer Dark.”

“Walked?”

“Yeah.” Alex shrugged. “We had to hold hands.”

“I think Eerie did that, once. When we were going to the Outer Dark, looking for you. We took this long walk through a forest, for days and days, until...”

“I don’t know if it was the same,” Alex said, frowning. “This was fast. A couple minutes, max.”

“Same difference. What is it that you want to do, Alex?”

“Huh?” Alex frowned deeply. “What do you mean?”

“I mean just that,” Katya said, handing him the can. “People have been telling you what to do since you showed up in Central.”

“Even before that,” Alex pointed out, taking a sparing sip from the can, as his head was already spinning. “Being captured by the Anathema wasn’t the first time I’ve been confined.”

“You know that was your girlfriend’s idea of keeping you safe?”

Alex checked to see if she was serious.

“Wow! No. I did not know that,” Alex said slowly. “That’s a little…”

“Right? Now you get it. Eerie’s…”

“She’s not great with abstract cultural stuff,” Alex said, smiling fondly. “She takes things at face value.”

“You really are nuts for that girl, aren’t you?” Katya marveled. “I’m a little jealous. I hope I find someone willing to let me run roughshod over every aspect of their life one day.”

“That’s a little harsh.” Alex gave her a wounded look. “Don’t you think?”

“It’s the truth.”

“It’s also not what we were talking about,” Alex reminded her, returning the beer to Katya. “We were talking about what I wanted.”

“Yeah?” Katya looked at him curiously. “Did you think of something?”

“I can think of several things, actually,” Alex said. “Killing Alistair is right at the top of the list.”

“Alex!”

“Come on! What did you expect? After what he did to Eerie and you, in the Outer Dark, I have to do something! Not to mention what he did to me.”

“He cut you to ribbons last time,” Katya said quietly. “If Eerie hadn’t poisoned him, she and I both would have died in the Outer Dark. I’d be happy to never see the bastard again.”

“You’re smarter than I am,” Alex said, shrugging. “Like I said.”

“I get why you’d be angry. I know what it’s like,” Katya said. “But revenge is dumb, and it isn’t like you, and I don’t like hearing you talking about that sort of thing.”

“Sorry,” Alex said, frowning. “You asked.”

“You should be worried about seeing Eerie again, you idiot,” Katya snapped. “Not revenge.”

“You’re right about that,” Alex said. “I thought we were talking about things that were under my control.”

“Your priorities are all messed up,” Katya said, tossing the can into the vacant common. “What makes you think you can do any better against Alistair now?”

“I didn’t want to kill anyone the last time we fought,” Alex said, with a casual shrug that made Katya’s stomach twist with worry. “Now, I think I really do want to kill him. That’s funny, isn’t it? Eh, maybe it’s not funny at all, now that I think about it. I mean, I never had a problem with hurting people. It never bothered me. I never felt bad. They told me I killed my family,” he said, with the look of someone trying to recall a dream. “I felt bad about it, or at least I felt like I should have felt bad. That wasn’t real, though. Maybe it was guilt over what really happened, but I don’t remember any of that.”

Alex was too involved to notice Katya wincing at the mention.

“I’ve never really felt bad about anything I’ve done. I felt bad for doing something that never even happened, and now that I know it was all fake, it’s just like, why bother? I don’t think I ever really wanted to kill anyone, before,” Alex said. “I thought I did, but everyone does that. I wished people dead, but I never actually considered doing anything about it. After the Program, though, and after what happened to Margot, everything matters less to me. The only thing that seems important is Eerie, and you, and…you know. The people around me. Central, maybe. Does that make sense? Things that seemed important before just aren’t anymore.”

“That’s the whole idea of the Program. That’s what they wanted. Depersonalization.”

“Well, it worked. I killed some guy, I don’t even know if he was Chinese or Taiwanese or…I just killed him, because he was in the way, and left his body in the water for the fucking fish to eat. I barely even thought about it. I felt worse about how everything went down with Emily than I did for killing someone. I had orders, you know? I had a job to do, but that’s just how it was, it’s not the reason why. It’s a fucking joke. They locked me up for killing people who never existed, but I probably would have killed someone eventually. That’s not the Program. That’s not the Auditors. That’s just me, isn’t it? They were right to lock me up. I think I’m missing something, in my head. Something important.”

Katya hugged him, but his arms just stayed limp at his sides.

“Everything that happened to me after that night in the park with the Weir made it easier,” Alex said dreamily, “but it didn’t make me anything I wasn’t already. That’s probably why they wanted me to be an Auditor. They figured they might as well put it to use, if I was already broken. Like Ms. Gallow, or Ms. Aoki. Rebecca knows the inside of my head better than I do. She had to know.”

She squeezed him, and Alex finally seemed to notice she was there, putting his arms around her in a distracted way.

“It’s not that I didn’t want to kill anyone. I just didn’t think that I could,” Alex said. “All I needed was permission. I think about it a lot, these days. About killing Alistair. And it’s not just him, you know? That’s just for starters.”

Two

Daily life in Las Vegas was inverted from the typical city schedule, intense heat during the day and an inordinate amount of tourism making the city functionally nocturnal. In imitation of the native wildlife, Vegas residents hid indoors during daylight hours, homes and offices and car interiors all cooled just short of comfort. Only at night did the population of the city emerge, to bright lights and swimming pools and bars that never closed.

Occupying the storage unit was a bit like taking shelter inside a roasting oven. The Auditors spent the day sprawled across bunks or sitting on the smooth concrete floor, stripped to their underwear and coated with sweat. They took turns using and then refilling the makeshift shower, hurriedly washing and shampooing in the few minutes of lukewarm water, but there was nothing to do with their field gear and clothing after they changed aside from shoving it in a corner, and then trying to ignore the reek of body odor and smoke that the pile emitted.

The hottest part of the afternoon left them silent and grumpy. Alice sat in front of the open refrigerator, ignoring the increasingly shrill sound of the interior fan, while Xia lurked nearby, occasionally blotting his forehead and neck with tissues. Min-jun stood naked in the shower, allowing only the smallest flow of water to pour over his head and down his back. Hayley lay across the top of one of the bunk beds, her bare legs hanging off one side, a laptop open and forgotten beside her. Grigori sat beside the giant industrial fan in the corner of the room, hunched over and pale.

“It could be worse,” Alice said. “Becca could be here.”

“Ms. Levy?” Grigori barely managed to raise his head. “Why would that be worse?”

“Becca smokes,” Alice said, leaning her head back into the refrigerator and smiling. “All the time, and even more when she is bored. This place has no ventilation at all. Can you imagine?”

“That sounds awful,” Hayley said crossly, staring up at the bare ceiling. “Why would you let her smoke inside?”

“You can’t stop Becca from doing anything,” Alice explained. “She’ll just do whatever she wants to do – and what’s worse, she’ll make you like it. After a couple hours, she’ll have you asking her to light up.”

The evening took its sweet time coming. Hayley painted her nails purple, the solvent odor earning her no friends. When Hayley went to use the shower, Alice snatched the nail polish from her bunk, and after long consideration, set about applying it to her toenails.

Grigori’s eyes widened in disbelief, but Min-jun clapped him on the shoulder before he could say anything. Xia watched for a moment as Alice clumsily painted the skin around the nail of her big toe, then he shook his head and held out his gloved hand.

Alice sighed with relief and handed it over.

“Thanks, Xia,” she said, wriggling her toes as he crouched in front of her. “You’re a lifesaver.”

Hayley ran out of water with shampoo in her eyes and her dreadlocked hair, so Min-jun and Grigori were forced to lug pans of water from the tap to the shower reservoir. Hayley draped a towel across her shoulders to preserve her modesty while they refilled the reservoir. Xia finished one set of toenails, and then started the other, each stroke of the tiny brush measured and judicious.

“You are surprisingly good at that,” Grigori observed, dumping the empty pan into the sink. “Where did you learn such a thing?”

“Xia and I have been partners for…actually, I have no idea. A long time. Right, Xia?”

Xia nodded, patiently adjusting as Alice shifted about.

“He’s very good at compensating for my shortcomings,” Alice said, her head resting on the lowest shelf of the refrigerator. “That’s what good partners do.”

“I see,” Min-jun said, picking his tablet back up from the card tablet. “Do you perform a similar role in Xia’s life, Ms. Gallow?”

“You could say that, kiddo,” Alice said, laughing. “We’re both still here, after all. Auditors typically have a limited lifespan.”

Hayley, just emerged from the shower, a towel wrapped around her head, looked horrified.

“Oh, God, really?” Hayley covered her mouth. “Is it that bad? Are we all gonna…?”

“What? No! No, that’s not it. I mean, probably not. An Auditor will usually spend a couple years in the field, and then a few more supervising other Auditors remotely, only working big jobs. Then they move on to other things. You know, like becoming Director, or betraying all of us. That sort of thing.”

“Oh.” Hayley sat down across from Min-jun. “That’s good.”

“That’s the Auditors that don’t die in the field,” Alice said, smiling broadly. “Or manage to piss me off.”

“That’s not constructive,” Hayley said, squeezing her matted locks dry one at a time. “You’re supposed to be the Chief Auditor, Ms. Gallow. You could at least try to be a leader.”

Several jaws dropped, including Alice’s, but Hayley just continued to dry her hair, ignoring the stares set in her direction.

Xia finished Alice’s little toe, dabbed a tiny bit of excess paint from the skin beside the nail with a tissue, and then nodded once before retreating.

No one said much of anything else until the evening came.

Alice had the ringer volume turned up on her cell, so when she started to get a flood of notifications, everyone knew about it.

Alice fiddled with her phone while the Auditors waited with differing amounts of patience.

“What’s the matter, Ms. Gallow?” Hayley asked. “Still don’t know where to start?”

Alice continued to tap away.

“No. Becca finally figured out how to send me an email – I mean, the Director did – so we’ve got our way out of here. I just need to make a quick call...”

“Who are you calling?”

“I’m on the phone,” Alice said, putting it to her ear. “Shut up now.”

Hayley flopped back on her bunk in frustration.

***

Hans Model was elbow-deep in a disassembled console when his phone vibrated in his pocket. He glanced at the man across the room, and the man nodded encouragingly, gesturing for him to answer. Hans took out the phone, glanced at the notification screen, and was just able to keep from sighing when he saw the caller ID.

The call was from a field phone assigned to the Auditors, a unit stored locally in an emergency cache.

It was already a bad day, Hans reflected, and there was no way this was going to make it any better.

He tapped his phone and then put it to his ear, saying nothing, half-heartedly praying that there would be no one at the other end.

“I’ve forgotten all the recognition codes,” a familiar voice said, infused with a familiar glee. “You’re going to help me anyway.”

“Chief Auditor Gallow,” Hans said, for the benefit of the other man in the room. “I am Field Supervisor Hans Model, and I run the Las Vegas station. We’ve been instructed by the Director, of course. No recognition code is required.”

“How nice of Becca to anticipate that I’d forget,” Alice said, nearly shouting. Hans moved the phone further from his ear. “I need your help, Hans.”

“Of course, Chief Auditor,” Hans said. “What can I do?”

“I need a fucking apport, obviously. You run an apport station, yeah?”

“Ah, yes, we do…”

“Perfect. I need to get back to Central. I’ve got priority access from the Director.”

“I would love to help, Chief Auditor, but there is a problem,” Hans said, in complete honesty. There were several problems, actually, but one of those problems was sitting on the other side of the control booth, smiling and holding a gun on Hans, so he wasn’t about to say anything unnecessary. “We are not online yet. The disturbance in the Ether damaged crucial systems, and we will need to realign the equipment before we can…”

“Becca said the beacons were working.”

“They are. The Network is still down, however, and the Ether is very disturbed. We must do the calculations by hand and configure the station manually. It is quite a process, I’m afraid.”

“Hans, you really aren’t making my day any better with all this shit,” Alice grumbled. “How long do you need to get up and running?”

“How long?” Hans said, as if thinking aloud, though it was for the benefit of the man across the room. “Let me think.”

Just tell her what you told me two hours ago, Hans. Best to be honest.

“Ah, yes, we can be ready in twenty-four hours.”

“A day? A whole day? You’re killing me!”

“I’m very sorry, Chief Auditor,” Hans said, with complete sincerity, unable to take his eyes from the gun pointed at his chest. “I wish I could do better for you, but current conditions are as unfavorable as I have seen in my career, and without the assistance of the Network and the servers in Central, we must be very careful.”

“People are gonna die, Hans,” Alice said. “Every extra minute it takes me to get to Central, lives get lost. You understand that?”

“Perfectly,” Hans said, staring at the gun.

“Then get to work,” Alice said. “You have no idea how much is at stake.”

Hans suspected that he might, but he did not say anything about that.

“You need any extra hands?” Alice asked. “A couple of my people are pretty technical. You’re out by the airport, right? We aren’t far. We can be there in…”

The man across the room shook his head.

“That won’t be necessary, Chief Auditor,” Hans blurted. “I have a full staff on hand already, and I doubt that they will do their best work in the presence of the Auditors, with all due respect.”

“I don’t know, Hans,” Alice said. “I’m a pretty good motivator.”

Hans looked at the man across the room desperately.

Their Etheric Signatures, Hans. Tell them the shields are down.

“Our shields are down. The hard installation as well as the staff telepath,” Hans said, trying to put as much conviction in his voice as was possible. “We are completely open to any sort of scan or remote viewing, Ms. Gallow.”

“Really? That’s weird,” Alice said. “Everything is intact over here.”

“We had a cascade of system failures,” Hans said, sweating heavily. “If you were to come to the station, your Etheric Signatures would be freely visible, Chief Auditor. To maintain the integrity of the station, we need to limit that window of exposure.”

“You sure are bossy for someone who is supposed to do what I say, Hans.”

“I meant no disrespect! I have my people to look after,” Hans babbled. “The same as you, Ms. Gallow. I’m sure you understand.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure, Hans. I really wouldn’t.”

He just waited, afraid to say anything more.

“Okay, fine,” Alice said finally. “We’ll wait here. You’ve got one day. Okay?”

“Yes, Chief Auditor,” Hans said, nodding eagerly. “We will be ready.”

“Yeah, I figured you would,” Alice said. “Nothing is ever easy, is it?”

The connection went dead. Hans sighed heavily and wiped the sweat from his face.

“I thought that went well, all things considered,” Alistair said, setting the gun aside. “I’ll need you to expedite the repairs. Neither of us wants me to be here when Alice Gallow shows up, now, do we?”

***

“This is it?”

He couldn’t see Daniel but guessed where he was from the weeds he crushed with each step.

“This is it,” Daniel confirmed. “That’s the car intel flagged.”

The warehouse sat on a lot of dead grass and crumbling asphalt, aluminum siding reflecting the setting sun, the wooden skeleton of a former barn sinking into the overgrown marsh behind it. Skinny willow trees had forced their way through the gravel roadway and the parking lot, providing the Black Sun Operators with plenty of cover on their approach. There was no wire on the chain-link fence that lined the perimeter, and the lock on the gate had rusted away long ago.

If not for the handful of cars parked among the weeds in front of the building, Simeon would have thought it empty.

“Okay,” Simeon said, setting his bag down. “Let’s get ready.”

“You’ll want to ditch the rifle,” Daniel advised, his voice coming from directly behind. “There’s concrete beneath the siding.”

Simeon nodded and opened the mouth of his bag, digging through the contents of his field kit.

The Glock 23 was compact and pleasingly rounded at the edges, the magazine that protruded from the grip loaded with hollow points; the bullets were copper-jacketed and dimpled at the business end. The nylon holster looped around his belt and put the pistol on his hip. A snub-barreled magnum went into a holster at his ankle, for emergencies. He strapped a black-washed knife to the small of his back, and then considered the ballistic armor and helmet in his kit bag for a long moment.

A muffled scream came from inside the shabby warehouse. Simeon decided that he had no more time to prepare.

“You ready?”

Simeon filled both of his pockets with extra magazines.

“Ready,” Daniel said, flickering into existence at his elbow, just long enough for Simeon to see him nod. “Shall I take the lead?”

Simeon nodded, concealing the kit bag and rifle beneath a nearby mesquite bush.

“Find a point of entry,” Simeon said, butterflies in his stomach. “I’ll breach.”

“Sounds good,” Daniel said, nothing more than footprints in the grass. “Do you think there are any Thule family members in there? Or just little fish?”

Simeon did not say anything, concentrating on following his invisible companion, and staying low and out of view. The warehouse windows were boarded over and the parking lot was desolate, but that didn’t mean they weren’t being watched.

The worst part of his plan was leaving Brandon Cree with the refugees, Simeon thought, wincing as he stepped through a cluster of thistles, thorns piercing his fatigues and snagging in his skin. Lacking a true telepath, they had to rely on the anti-telepathy routines that Black Sun telepaths had performed before departure. If the Operators in the warehouse included a competent telepath, they would have little trouble spotting their Etheric Signatures.

No alarm was raised as they advanced, however, and there was no response from within the building, psychic or otherwise.

The Black Sun Operators crept past the cars in the overgrown parking lot, and then worked their way through the brush on the left side of the building, pushing through blackberries and poison ivy. The steady putter of a small generator became obvious as they approached the rear of the building, the ground covered with a layer of sun-bleached garbage.

“Next to the rain gutter,” Daniel hissed in his ear. “An open window.”

A faint light spilled from the window, so dim that Simeon suspected the source was closer to the center of the building.

His hackles raised as he crossed the final meters to the window, his skin breaking out in goosebumps. He put a hand on the grip of his pistol and moved carefully, knees bent and head down.

The sound of his steps in the gravel seemed absurdly loud, and his breath was ragged by the time he reached the side of the building. Simeon threw an arm over the windowsill, and then vaulted inside.

The room was choked with garbage and agricultural detritus, forcing Simeon to wind between pallets of stacked fertilizer and cattle feed, rusting gas cans, and bits and pieces of plows, harnesses, and tractors. The minimal light fed into the room from a door near the far wall, the door partially obstructed by a stack of tires larger than Simeon, the rubber treads worn and gouged.

Simeon turned sideways and wriggled between the tires and the door frame, holding his breath and scraping his chest painfully at the narrowest point. He was glad at least that he had left behind the armor, since he would have been forced to strip it off to make it through the narrowest section. Rubbing his abraded chest and wincing, he crept out into the lighted hallway.

The floor was crudely leveled concrete, the walls precast blocks of the same material. There were water stains and black and green mildew everywhere, and the air was earthy and fetid.

Three more doors opened into a massive, dark room like the one from which he had just emerged.

A murmur of conversation came from the end of the hall.

“Up ahead,” Daniel whispered, close enough for Simeon to smell sweat and old smoke. “What do you think?”

Simeon shrugged, and drew his pistol.

“What do you think?” Daniel asked. “Quiet or loud?”

“You go in right behind me. I’ll distract. You secure the target.”

“You know, that sounded a whole lot like an order, and if you’ll recall…”

“Not the time,” Simeon hissed. “Let’s do it.”

He moved, hoping that Daniel would follow.

He did not look back – there would be nothing to see, either way.

Simeon peeked cautiously around the doorway. It was too dark to be certain, but the room looked empty.

Simeon moved through the gloom, doing his best not to trip over seed bags and discarded farm equipment.

Light leaked from beneath the closed door at the end of the hall, along with a murmur of muddled conversation, which clarified slightly as he approached. Simeon felt agitation in the voice of one of the speakers, insistently talking over a smaller and more desperate voice, and he did not like it.

Chandi Tuesday had been taken by Thule Cartel forces almost fourteen hours earlier. Given time in transit, that was a probable twelve or more hours in interrogation.

It was a relief that she was still capable of speaking.

He tried the door gently, and the knob turned just a fraction in his hand.

Simeon turned and nodded to a man he could not see, whom he was not entirely certain was there to see it.

He opened the door, visions of other interrogations discovered too late dancing in his head, the pistol held close to his chest.

There were shouts and sudden activity as Simeon burst in. Operators scrambled for weapons or position, screaming orders at Simeon and each other.

Chandi Tuesday was tied to a chair in the middle of the room. A man with a severely receded hairline stood beside her, his fingers pressed against her forehead. An IV stand stood nearby, plugged into her arm.

Simeon opened fire, keeping his shots at head level to avoid hitting Chandi.

He clipped a man who went running for a rifle on a nearby bench, his first shot clipping the top of his head. Simeon stepped close, putting one foot on the man’s chest, and then put two more rounds through his head.

“That’s enough, asshole!” A Thule Operator aimed a sawed-off double barrel at Simeon. “Drop the gun!”

Simeon replied by putting a bullet in the man’s neck.

The remaining two men opened fire with rifles while a woman behind them activated a telekinetic protocol, hurling a barrage of cinderblocks and tractor parts. Simeon ignored them all and focused his fire on the man touching Chandi’s forehead, following the lesson drilled into him from childhood – neutralize the telepath first.

The nearest Operator fired both barrels of his shotgun, while a chubby man in a leather jacket to his right fired a long revolver fit with an even longer suppressor. A cinderblock was launched at his head, while an axle and an enormous tire were hurled telekinetically in his direction.

The bullets flattened and the buckshot deformed against the vivid blue pinpoints of his barrier protocol. The cinderblock was reduced to sand and gravel, while the axle was sheered in two. The barrier manifested at the point of contact, guided by what his teachers had theorized was an instinctual form of precognition.

Untouched, Simeon returned fire.

He hit the balding telepath with his third shot, catching him in the moustache and shattering his jaw and front teeth. Chandi Tuesday screamed, her voice muffled by a strip of silver tape that covered her mouth. Simeon fired again and downed the reeling telepath, and then emptied the rest of the magazine into the prostrate man, filling his damp sport jacket with holes.

The remaining Thule Operators exchanged fearful looks.

“Wait a minute. I give up, okay?” the nearest gunman said, tossing aside his shotgun. “I know who you are. You’re Yurchenko, aren’t you? The Black Sun Donbass division commander?” His voice was too loud, either from fear or the gunfire. “I surrender.”

He put his hands up, earning a look of shock and scorn from the last of the Thule Operators.

“Aníbal, you fucking coward!” The muzzle of the Operator’s gun wavered. “What are you doing?”

“Stand down, Belle,” he replied. “I heard about this guy. There’s nothing…”

The woman took a step forward. Daniel appeared right beside her and opened her up at the belly with his machete, the whole thing appearing to happen by some ghastly magic.

“I have an opportunity for one of you,” Simeon said, reloading calmly. “Give us the locations of any Thule family member, or Courtney Lede and Mohammed Omar. Assuming Miss Tuesday is in acceptable shape, I will let one of you live.”

Daniel put his blade to the throat of one of the Thule Operators, and the tall man bent his head back and grimaced, adding to the crevasses on his lined face. At their feet, the woman whose intestines Daniel had spilled writhed and bled out.

“Aníbal, was it?” Simeon turned his attention to the man who had surrendered. “Do you have something you want to tell me?”

“I report to Courtney Lede,” the man said quickly. “I can give you his position.”

“Good enough,” Simeon said, the pain already gathering in the back of his head. “Daniel?”

The remaining Thule Operator went for his gun despite Daniel’s blade, his hands brushing the bottom of the protruding magazine as an invisible machete was buried in the side of his head, cleaving his ear neatly in two and crunching deeply into the skull.

He stumbled and gasped, the pistol spilling to the floor. A second blow from the machete laid him down beside it, shrieking wildly.

“You said that you report to Courtney Lede,” Simeon said to the remaining Operator, racking his pistol. “What’s your full name?”

Daniel silenced the wounded Operator. He was splattered with gore from his dusty boots all the way to his almond-shaped eyes.

“Aníbal Estrada,” the Thule Operator said. “Listen, you aren’t going to…”

Simeon hurried to Chandi and started to fiddle with her bonds while Daniel finished off the disemboweled woman, hacking at her neck until it was cut nearly through.

“What we do depends on the state of Miss Tuesday and what you have to say to us. Where can we find Courtney Lede?”

“At the old Thule residence outside of Central,” Aníbal said rapidly. “They set up headquarters there.”

“Defenses?”

“Just the usual stuff. Walls and alarms, some guards. It’s pretty far out, so they aren’t too worried.”

The zip-ties were pulled so tight around Chandi’s wrists that they had sunken into her skin, blood seeping around the edges. Simeon decided to strip away the vinyl tape pressed across her mouth first.

“I’m…don’t…I’m okay!” Chandi spit out a balled-up rag. “You don’t…they didn’t…”

Simeon glanced at Daniel. Daniel shrugged.

“Ladies choice,” Daniel said, wiping his machete on the dead man’s jeans. “Not my preference, but if you insist.”

“I’m basically fine,” Chandi said. “Let him go.”

To Simeon’s eye, Chandi looked surprisingly intact. Her lips were puffy, one eye was encircled with a swelling bruise, and injection marks lined her inner arms, but she was still wearing clothes, and all her fingernails and teeth were intact.

“If you’re sure,” Simeon said, carefully removing the IV from her arm. “I truly do not mind taking care of him.”

“I don’t want that. Please. It wasn’t that bad.”

“It would be better if we did, Miss Tuesday,” Daniel said. “Getting out of here is going to be a challenge. Are you sure you can even walk? We don’t need this garbage raising the alarm.”

“No, please don’t kill him,” Chandi said. “We have to be better than them, or there’s no point. Don’t you see? It isn’t enough to be stronger. We also need to be right.”

Daniel smirked, while Simeon considered it.

“If you say so,” Simeon said, turning to the Thule Operator, his trembling hands still beside his head. “You heard her, Aníbal Estrada. You get to live.”

Aníbal turned to run, freezing in place when he heard Simeon draw his gun.

“You leave after we are gone,” Simeon growled. “Lay face down on the floor, hands behind your head.”

The Thule Operator hurriedly assumed the position. Daniel strolled over and put his foot on the back of the man’s head.

Simeon took the knife from his belt and then carefully went to work on the zip-ties.

It took a few tense minutes, and a nick or two from Chandi’s wrists, but he eventually managed to free her arms. The ankles were easier.

Simeon gave her a few minutes to recover, and then offered his arm.

Daniel noticed the grimace on Simeon’s face, the sweat gathering below his hairline, and his eyes narrowed.

Chandi took Simeon’s hand and rose carefully. She cried out in pain and dismay and would have fallen to the ground, if not for Simeon dutifully catching her.

Daniel was right. After half a day tied to the chair, the blood cut off to her feet, Chandi could not stand, much less walk. Simeon set her clumsily back on the chair, his head throbbing and his vision swimming.

“I’m sorry,” Chandi murmured, rubbing her legs. “I just need a minute to…”

“Take your time, Miss,” Daniel said. “We aren’t going anywhere for an hour or so.”

The headache was like a thunderclap in Simeon’s brain, a burst of pain that shattered his thoughts.

“Why not?” Chandi asked. “They’ve been coming and going the entire time I was here. It won’t be long before…”

Simeon took two steps and then slowly sat down. He blinked a few times, shook his head, and then collapsed, vomiting across the concrete floor.

“…before they come back?” Daniel grinned and rolled Simeon on to his side. He searched a pouch attached to his belt, and then came up with a pencil, which he forced between Simeon’s teeth. “I’m afraid my companion’s protocol is the sort that comes at a price, Miss. He’ll be having a migraine and a few little seizures for the next while.”

“That’s terrible,” Chandi said, looking at Simeon sympathetically as she tried to massage her feet back to life. “His protocol is Black, then?”

“As the night,” Daniel said. “Didn’t used to be, back when we were at the Academy, but after a few years in the field, something changed. I never heard the full story, but it had something to do with ghouls in the Donbass, and a raid that only he survived. Now he ends up like this every time he uses his protocol. It’s a hassle.”

“You don’t sound very sympathetic.”

“I’m not,” Daniel agreed. “Not at all.”

“Aren’t you both Black Sun?”

“Of course! We are brothers-in-arms. Simeon and I just happened to be involved in a friendly rivalry right now.”

“What do you mean?”

“You are of course familiar with the Mistress of the Black Sun, Lady Martynova?”

“She recruited me,” Chandi said, looking mildly self-conscious. “We were in the same class at the Academy.”

“Then I’ll make certain that you are sent an invitation,” Daniel said, prodding Aníbal in the head with his boot. “Are you sure they didn’t do anything to you that I can avenge?”

“They were not kind or gentle,” Chandi said, averting her eyes. “I’m fine, though, and I do not want unnecessary blood on my hands.”

“Don’t let my current appearance fool you. I won’t get blood on anything,” Daniel said, hand on the hilt of his machete. “I can be very neat.”

“Please don’t. What were you saying about Anastasia?”

“I suppose it’s no secret,” Daniel said. “But…aren’t you a precognitive? Can’t you see it coming?”

“It’s all math to me,” Chandi said. “I just know probabilities. If I don’t know what to look for, then I’ll never see it coming.”

“I’ll let you in on a juicy future event, then,” Daniel said, hooking his thumbs behind his belt. “You see, Anastasia Martynova and I are to be married in the very near future.”

***

It was only after they took cover beneath the frame of the bullet-riddled car that Maxim realized how uncomfortably close that left them. He focused his attention on the small strip of the meadow in front them, all that he could see in the gap between the wheel well and the axle.

“You’re sure you remember the interval for this patrol?”

“I was right about the last one, wasn’t I?”

Maxim had to admit that she was, giving her a grudging nod.

“The timing wasn’t as close, last time,” Maxim grumbled. “We had better find cover. That’s a big open space in front of us.”

“You want to use the woods, don’t you? We – I mean, the Thule Cartel – mined them. You’ll never make it without a precog.”

“We’ll never make it,” Maxim corrected. “That’s your new ‘we’.”

“Of course,” she said. “You don’t have to remind me.”

Maxim eyed her dubiously. She was dwarfed by her rucksack, and her head disappeared into the helmet she had borrowed from Maxim, but she bore the load with a straight back and no complaints. The singular braid that held her long hair was gradually coming loose, and she frequently had to wave hair from her face.

She noticed him looking and smiled like he was an old friend, someone that she was pleased to see.

Maxim considered shooting her on the spot, but it was an idle consideration. Harming an empath was no mean feat, and it would have given their position away, anyway.

“You don’t have to be so happy about it,” Maxim muttered. “How long now?”

“They’ll be coming by any moment,” she said in a hushed voice, moving so that she could also peer out the gap. “Relax.”

He wanted to respond, but he could already hear footsteps.

Her shoulder pressed against his, and Maxim wondered how powerful she was. If she was an F-Class empath, or better, then there was nothing to be done about it. He would be helpless to do anything to her. If she was anything less, though, he might have something to work with.

The patrol was close. Maxim was mildly affronted by their lack of discipline, their unguarded conversation giving away their positions. They walked in a rough line, quite close to each other, the Operator watching their right flank smoking openly, not even bothering to cup the cigarette with his hand. The Thule Cartel takeover of Central was hardly complete, and their Operators were already confident to the point of laxity.

That could not mean good things for whatever Black Sun forces had been caught in Central when the Ether became impassible, but that was not Maxim’s problem. Which was good, he thought, because he had so many other problems to contend with.

Maxim watched the patrol pass within five meters of their position without any real anxiety. It was the most routine sort of patrol, so sure of finding nothing that no one even bothered to look. His combat telepathy was more than enough to deflect their limited attention, Delphi effortlessly redirecting any stray gazes.

He glanced at the young woman and wondered if he could strangle her without alerting the patrol.

“You won’t do anything bad to me,” she whispered. “I’m cooperating.”

The second statement was true, at the very least. He had not bothered to bind her hands or take her gear. He’d done a quick search for weapons, and then let her tag along without appearing to pay her much attention. She followed obediently, providing patrol routes and timing before he could ask.

The patrol passed just out of sight, and they both leaned forward, trying to catch a glimpse of any potential stragglers. Her stray hair tickled his cheek, and he flinched away dramatically enough that she noticed.

“You’re fine,” she said. “Don’t worry.”

“I can’t help it,” Maxim admitted. “Everything about you worries me.”

“Why? Haven’t I been helpful?” She glanced at her watch. “In about thirty seconds, that’ll be our best chance of crossing the clearing without…”

“You’re quite powerful, aren’t you?” Maxim said, rubbing his chin, a disturbing thought bubbling to the front of his mind. “You never did say your name.”

“I never did?”

“No. You did not.”

“How silly of me.”

“Yes.”

She nodded and smiled affably.

“Don’t play games,” Maxim said. “What is your name?”

“Well…”

Maxim put a hand on his sidearm.

“Don’t get the wrong idea,” he said. “I will kill you, and I will leave your body for the birds to eat. What is your damn name?”

She looked away, her mouth tugged down into a pout.

“My name is Gabriela – but everyone just calls me Gabby. You should, too.”

Maxim glared impatiently.

“It’s Gabriela Estanza-Thule,” she admitted. “You probably know my big sister, Lóa. I was adopted into the family when I was eight, and joined the Thule Cartel officially almost a year ago and…I’ve just made everything very complicated for you, haven’t I?”

***

The buses rumbled and wheezed, idling beside the Administration building. Some were municipal, while others were the Academy’s own buses.

“This is truly impressive,” Gerald Windsor said, reviewing the assembled buses. “How did you manage to gather so many on such short notice?”

“I commandeered every bus at the transit center in Central,” Rebecca said proudly. “Then I shanghaied anyone that could drive one of these things. I found some vans, too. I think it’ll be enough.”

“I think you might be right, as far as students and staff are concerned,” Gerald said, looking over his lists. “I’m worried about moving the patients in the infirmary, though. Michael, in particular…”

“I don’t think that will be a problem,” Michael said, grinning as he approached them. His scarred face felt stiff and inflexible, but the smile was genuine. “I’m feeling a little better.”

Rebecca’s leaping hug nearly took him from his feet.

“Michael?” Gerald looked stunned. “How are you possibly up?”

“Your face,” Rebecca said, touching him gently. “Your eyes! My god! Michael, how did this happen?”

“I’ll explain later. On the way,” Michael said. “Where are we going, anyway?”

“We can’t stay at the Academy,” Rebecca explained. “It’s too big, too open, and way too close to Central. The Far Shores, on the other hand, is remote and designed to be defensible.”

“Makes sense to me,” Michael said. “Will they have enough room? Between the Audits support staff and the science team assigned there, it isn’t crowded, but…”

“We don’t have much of an option,” Rebecca said darkly. “Central is burning, Michael, and it won’t be long before the Thule Cartel comes here.”

“Is it that bad?” Michael noticed the plume of brown smoke ascending from the urban core into the grey sky. “Oh. I see that it is.”

“This war has become uglier than I imagined, far faster than I anticipated,” Gerald said, checking his lists. “I think we could be ready to go in the morning, if we started to prepare now. Shall I begin, Director?”

Rebecca nodded.

“We need to get moving,” she said, looking it the direction of the orange glow of Central. “I think it’s gonna get worse before it gets better.”

***

“Are we done?”

“Not quite,” John Parson said. “I’m still hopeful that you can be persuaded.”

“Really?” Eerie toyed with her hair. “Persuaded to do what?”

“The Church of Sleep will have you, Ériu, one way or the other,” John said. “That is inevitable. I hope to convince you that it would be better for everyone if you just…”

“I know what you intend to do,” Eerie interrupted.

“Do you?”

“Yes, of course. I know what happens the same way I know what has already happened.”

“If only I could see the world from your perspective,” John said wistfully. “Time as a continuous circle rather than a straight line. I’m profoundly jealous.”

“I don’t plan on spending more time here with you,” Eerie replied. “My friends are waiting for me.”

“How nice,” John said brightly. “You really are the girl who has it all, aren’t you?”

“Not really. I’ve never wanted anything more than the usual things.”

“You were never meant to have them, I’m afraid. Your life was meant to be exceptional, Ériu. Exceptional, and quite short. You have a destiny, child, and it is time to meet it.”

“I’m not a child, and that’s not true,” Eerie said. “There’s no such thing as destiny, and nothing is decided here.”

“You are wrong,” the fire said, with Samnang’s voice. “You make a decision, and everything flows from that.”

“I’m not so important,” Eerie said. “I just want to decide for myself, that’s all.”

“Everything is connected. Your actions do not occur in a vacuum, and that obligates you to choose responsibly,” John Parson said. “I realize that your fate is not a desirable one, but it is fate all the same. The Church of Sleep is roused, and nothing will prevent the next Assembly, but if you were to submit willingly, that would serve to placate them. If they cannot be suppressed, they could at least be directed. You would be saving Central and all your friends there by surrendering to the Church, I promise you. I will see to that personally, if you will only…”

“I know exactly what you want to do,” Eerie said. “You tell everyone before this over.”

“I’ve told no one, and I don’t plan to!” John Parson looked scandalized. “I’ve cultivated a calculated ambiguity for years. It is impossible to oppose someone with no discernable motivations, or so I have reasoned. Don’t make me out to be some sort of villain, Ériu. Are we all not acting in our own best interests?”

“This is stupid,” Eerie said. “Did you really think I’d just give up because you asked?”

“I did not,” John Parson said, the blackness of the Outer Dark obscuring everything but his gleaming eyes. “I assumed that I would have to make you.”

The Outer Dark rang with the gentle music of extinguished possibilities as they shattered like dropped crystal. Eerie’s luminosity diminished like gauze pulled across a lamp, and black mist swirled around her. The malevolent energy directed at her loomed like an ashen hand, twisting cruel fingers into her possible futures and suffocating them.

Eerie looked at John Parson with all-black eyes, a cluster of golden lights surrounding her in furious orbits.

The Outer Dark shivered, a wave of uncontrolled possibility passing through it.

“Enough! You’ve made your point,” John said, shaking his head. “I cannot force you. Yet.”

“I know that already,” Eerie said. “Don’t tell me things I already know.”

“I will make you a deal,” John said, sitting down again with a sigh. “I will give you a week to settle your affairs and enjoy what you can. Seven days, and then you must return to me of your free will.”

“Why would I agree to that?”

“I will be able to compel you to obey shortly, no matter your feelings. The more the Church wakes from its slumber, the greater my capabilities,” John said. “It is no sure thing that you could defeat me now. Those odds will only grow worse.”

“Still…”

“If you make me come for you, Ériu, it will be your friends, and your precious boyfriend, who pay the price for it. Even if you think you can resist me, do you truly believe you could protect them?”

“Only a week?” Eerie sighed. “You’re so stingy.”

“It is the best I can offer.”

Eerie frowned.

“Okay,” she said. “But I hate it.”

She spun around and took a step in a direction that was somewhere between up and away, and then she was gone.

“She really is fantastic,” John said admiringly. “We are deep within the Outer Dark, nearly on the threshold of the Church itself, and still she brushes me aside and then walks away. Remarkable.”

“I suppose I will have to incarnate again,” the fire grumbled. “To keep an eye on you, and on her.”

“On me? Whatever for?”

“Your agenda is personal. You do not have the Church’s interests in mind any longer. That alone bears watching.”

“And what of you, Samnang? I know that you’ve been thinking for yourself, since you met your sister’s remarkable gentleman friend.”

“He’s not that great,” Samnang muttered, from the depths of the fire. “He just takes the easiest way forward. That’s the same sort of decision making that I’m afraid you intend, Parson.”

“There are no easy ways.” John laughed. “Find yourself a more appropriate form, Miss Banh, and let’s go find Marcus. I’d like to see his roses in bloom one more time, before all his hard work is put to waste.”

“Go yourself,” Samnang said. “I’m after more engaging company than two sentimental old men.”

An outside observer would have had great difficulty telling which happened first – John Parson disappearing, or the fire going out. So absolute was the desolation of the Outer Dark, that only seconds after their mutual departure, it was impossible to imagine that there had ever been light or life there, however briefly.

This was a perfected darkness, as cold and remote as the stars on a clear night in the desert.

The night that never broke, the endless and silent reign of a permanent dark, the self-birthing triumph of entropy.

In this pure black extremity, the Church of Sleep began to manifest.

Three

Day One

There were more than two hundred children and teenagers crammed into several buses, with a caravan of hastily commandeered trucks and vans before and behind, all packed with Academy personnel, families, and refugees.

The going was slow, but they had left with the first light, intending to be in the Far Shores by nightfall, or at least before the next day dawned.

The first few checkpoints were easy. Rebecca overwhelmed the unprepared militia via a combination of bluster and empathy, and none made a serious attempt to stop or search the caravan. That couldn’t last, though, and they all knew it.

Rebecca sat as close to the front of the bus as possible, her hands clamped to the back of the driver’s seat, her stomach already roiled by motion sickness, her eyes clenched tight. The effort of controlling nearly three hundred emotionally fragile individuals drained the color from her face and made coherent thought impossible. Drawing upon reserves that she had never suspected that she possessed, Rebecca managed fears, channeled anxieties, and radiated calm and amiability.

“How is it going, Director?”

Gerald Windsor had to raise his voice to be heard over the rattle and thunk of the poorly maintained engine, even though he sat on the bench across the aisle from her, two of his Advanced Studies students tucked into the seat beside him.

“Can’t talk,” Rebecca said, her teeth chattering wildly. “It’s too much.”

The little blonde girl sitting next to Windsor leaned forward and looked at Rebecca with obvious concern.

“Mr. Windsor?” She tugged at the sleeve of his sport jacket. “Is Ms. Levy okay?”

“She is fine, but very burdened,” he explained. “She is keeping everyone calm and cooperative, and the effort required is…”

“I know,” the girl said, wide-eyed. “I can feel it.”

Rebecca glanced at the girl through slit eyes.

She had barely noticed her until she spoke, as she was preoccupied with the colossal task that threatened, even now, to overwhelm her. Probing the girl stealthily, Rebecca found her calm, excited as opposed to agitated, an almost complete absence of fear centered on a remarkable foundation of confidence and assurance.

Hello, Ms. Levy, the girl said, giving her a smile full of purple-tinted braces. Taking a closer look? I don’t mind.

Rebecca panted and shuddered, grappling with two impossibilities. The tremendous emotional pressure of the near-panic crowd, and then a question.

How had the girl noticed her probe? Even Alistair never noticed Rebecca’s prying.

The girl’s Etheric Signature lit like a signal flare.

Madison Morales-North, Rebecca thought, recalling the name with difficulty. Since when have you been able to dampen your Etheric Signature?

I learned to do it three months before I joined the Academy, Madison admitted. Why do you think my parents delayed me for an extra year? They wanted to be sure I could make it through your interview, Ms. Levy, without you noticing my abilities.

An M-Class empath, Rebecca marveled, sweat dripping from her bangs down into her eyes. And I never even realized.

My mother helped keep me clear of you, Madison thought. I called in sick every time you were visiting the Advanced Studies class.

You were sick a lot last year.

Don’t worry. My mom tutored me on those days.

Sophie Morales tutored you? Okay, you’re excused.

I’m worried about you, Ms. Levy, Madison said, leaning across Windsor to look into her eyes. This is too much for you.

I’m fine, kid. Don’t worry about it.

“That’s not true!” Madison objected, drawing a curious look from Windsor. “Can I help?”

“Madison!” Gerald pushed her back into her seat, shaking his head. “This isn’t the sort of thing we involve students in. There’s a very real danger…”

“Gerald, how long have you known?”

Windsor turned his attention back to Rebecca, a sheepish look on his long face.

“The better part of the year,” he said apologetically. “Madison took me into her confidence, you understand.”

“She’s already won you over? Fucking empaths,” Rebecca said, earning a glare from Windsor for the language. “We make everything difficult.”

Rebecca put her head between her knees, gall rising from her stomach and burning the back of her throat.

This is not easy, Rebecca thought at the girl. Are you sure you can handle it?

My mother can see the future, Ms. Levy, and my father is very good at making plans. She already told me what I need to do. My father didn’t leave me in your care, he told me to help look after everyone. You don’t need to worry at all, Ms. Levy. Just leave it to me.

It was as if the gravity that threatened to pull Rebecca through the floor of the bus and down to the molten core of the earth dissipated, breaking across her shoulders like the surf and then dwindling away.

Rebecca wiped the sweat from her face and took a long, grateful breath.

She still had to shoulder part of the burden, but Madison radiated peace and goodwill toward humankind like a miniature supernova, a scrawny little sun in a pink skirt and a Pokémon T-shirt.

“Thanks, Madison,” Rebecca said, sighing as she sank back in the bench seat. “You’re a lifesaver.”

The girl beamed. Gerald patted her shoulder and smiled at her encouragingly.

“After this is over, I’ll want to meet with both of you,” Rebecca said, searching for her cigarettes. “We’re going to have a little talk about honesty and forthrightness,” Rebecca added, as both their faces fell. “And then a longer one about how little I appreciate being the last one to learn things.”

For once, Windsor did not feel empowered to stop her from smoking around the kids.

She’d burned the cigarette halfway to the filter, and was finally starting to relax, when the bus clattered to a stop.

“Hey, what’s the deal?” Rebecca said, leaning over the driver’s chair. “Why’d we stop?”

“There’s a roadblock, and a van ahead of us, parked on the side of the road,” the driver explained.

“So?”

“The advance vehicles say there’s someone inside.”

“So?” Rebecca demanded, her voice rising. “What’s the big deal?”

“Someone has to check it out,” the driver explained, calmly chewing a wad of gum. “Could be a trap. A bomb, you see, or…”

“For God’s sake!” Rebecca said, forcing the hydraulic doors open in a rage. “This day could not get any worse.”

Men poured out of the van as soon as she stepped from the bus.

They were all wearing masks and helmets, and there were five guns on her instantly. Rebecca walked toward them with her hands high and a big smile on her face.

“Come this way,” one of the men shouted, beckoning her closer to the improvised roadblock. “Slow and easy. Keep those hands up.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Rebecca muttered. “What the hell do I need my hands for?”

She walked over slow and easy, which was fine, because it gave her time to probe their shielding. It was professional work, the kind of thing that took hours and the personal attention of a skilled telepath. Defenses like that didn’t last long after implanting, so they were reserved for Operators who were expected to see action.

Rebecca could have brushed their shields aside if some of her protocol was not already allotted toward keeping the civilians from panicking. Even with Madison’s aid, the burden was crushing, and Rebecca had little energy left to play around with.

The ambushers were professional soldiers, not a hastily assembled militia, she could tell that much. They were wary and excited, and some of them were Operators.

They had killed people already that day, and most of them were looking forward to another opportunity. Rebecca could feel the ugly edges of their thoughts as she approached, her smile growing more strained by the second.

“You know who I am, right? I’m the Director, and I’m fucking over it, so I’m putting my hands down now,” Rebecca said, doing just that. “Who are you people, and what are you doing?”

“You are a prisoner of the Thule Cartel, Director,” one of the soldiers said, holstering his gun. “We have orders to arrest anyone attempting to leave Central.”

“Your orders don’t mean shit,” Rebecca said, shaking out her hands. “This isn’t cartel business. These people are refugees, and they are under the protection of the Administration. Move your stupid roadblock and get out of my way.”

She was tired and distracted and worried about a thousand other things, but that wasn’t why one of the soldiers got away with bashing her in the side of the head with the butt of his gun.

It was more like she could not believe that he was actually going to do it until it had already happened, and she was halfway to the ground, clutching the side of her head and feeling blood trickle down her ear.

She felt the surge in fear from the buses and clamped down on it ruthlessly.

The anger in her chest swelled, and suddenly, Rebecca felt quite energetic.

She looked at the soldiers, who clambered over the roadblock to stand over her.

“You just messed up,” Rebecca said, touching behind her ear and getting blood on her fingers. “I hope you know that.”

They stirred and shifted. One tapped another on his shoulder, as if to prompt him.

“You are going back to the bus, and you are going tell everyone to get off, single-file,” the man said, giving her his best stern look. “Tell them to cooperate, because I’m warning you, I’m not feeling very patient this afternoon. Do you understand?”

“Do you understand what a terrible mistake you just made?” Rebecca asked, sitting down in the dust. “Have you really stopped to think about it?”

The soldier put his hand on his gun, and the rest stirred uncertainly.

“Go ahead and think it over,” Rebecca said, taking out her cigarettes. “I’ll wait.”

The soldier peeled off his helmet with one hand, while the other stayed firmly planted on his gun. He was brown-haired and swarthy beneath, with three days of stubble and two more of dust and travel on his face. His eyes were wide open, and his face was beaded with sweat.

“Morrison? What are you doing?” One of the other soldiers picked up his discarded helmet. “Snap out of it, man.”

Rebecca took a cigarette from her pack and put it in her mouth.

The soldier took his pistol out of the holster, and charged the weapon, staring at Rebecca the whole time.

“Morrison, calm down,” another soldier said, putting a hand on his shoulder. “We want her alive. The bounty, remember?”

Tears started to dribble from the corners of his eyes, and the pistol trembled in his hands.

“I told you that you messed up.” Rebecca lit her cigarette. “Now you feel bad, but it’s too late for that, isn’t it?”

“Shut up, lady.” A soldier placed the muzzle of a submachine gun right next to Rebecca’s head. “One more word and I pull the trigger.”

“I’m done talking,” Rebecca said, exhaling a stream of smoke. “It’s just such a hard thing to live with, isn’t it? Feeling the way you do. And that isn’t even the worst part, is it?”

“Fuck the bounty, man,” one of the soldiers urged. “Just kill her.”

“The worst part is that you’ll never feel any better. It will always be exactly this bad, forever,” Rebecca said gravely. “I’ve permanently rebalanced your brain chemistry. That despair you feel, the way it makes your chest hurt? That’s your new best friend. The anxiety that makes you wanna scream and tear your hair out? That’s here to stay. You’ll never feel a moment’s peace or calm. You’ll never feel pleasure or joy. I’ve destroyed your capacity to even understand the concept of happiness.”

The soldiers reeled, or cried out, or clutched their heads.

“You’ll never get another night’s sleep, and you’ll never want to do anything ever again,” Rebecca continued, talking over their histrionics. “The next time you see your children, you’ll feel nothing but their disappointment in you. You won’t remember your lover’s name, and you won’t be able to pick your mom out of a crowd. You’ll be alone forever, with nothing to distract you from how fucking miserable you are. No one will ever touch you or want you or love you, because you are the worst failure of the entire human race.”

The soldiers stumbled and wailed and wept as if they were at a funeral.

“You know what to do, right? There’s only way to make it stop. You all know what to do,” Rebecca said. “My head hurts, you know? I’m trying to save a bunch of kids, and you assholes get in the way and yell orders and fucking hit me. What the hell? I probably have a concussion and that’s your fault. You know how to apologize, don’t you? It’s the least you can do, to make it up to me, and the world. And your mom. Because we are all so disappointed in you.”

The soldier kneeling in front of her sobbed and put his gun to his head.

“Not here, you miserable bastard,” Rebecca said, flicking her cigarette at him. “Go over there, around the rocks. I don’t want the kids to see. Consider someone else’s feelings for once in your life.”

***

Alex walked away to relieve himself. Katya waited and watched the trees bend and shake in the wind, lost in more worries than she could keep track of, an unpleasant and weighty sensation settling in her chest like flies on discarded food. She wished that she had done any number of things differently. She wished that she had told Alex the truth from the beginning, or that he had been the kind of person she would have liked and trusted right from the start.

She wished they had more beer.

She wished Mr. Windsor were more morally flexible, or at least in proximity.

Anything really, to try and fill the nervous emptiness she felt.

The leaves danced and fluttered, and in between swirling displays, lay limp and perfectly still, as if exhausted by their efforts.

“I know you are having a moment,” Emily said gently, crouching beside her. “But I’ve been waiting here quietly for a while, hoping you would notice me.”

“I noticed you before you saw me,” Katya said. “I just didn’t feel like talking to you.”

“That’s fine!” Emily said, laughing. “I’m actually looking for Alex.”

“Of course you are,” Katya said, rubbing her eyes. “What are you up to now?”

“I’m not happy about what has happened to me, or to any of us. I’m going to end any possibility of the same thing happening to anyone else,” Emily said seriously. “I need Alex’s help with one teensy little part of that.”

“You do?” Alex pushed his way through the bushes into the clearing. “I don’t mind, probably. Depends on what you want.”

“How generous of you,” Emily said. “I’ve only thrown myself at you, and cooked for you, and cared for you, and saved your life how many times?”

“I said I would probably help,” Alex said. “I just wanna know what it is before I do it.”

“First things first,” Emily said, putting her hand on Katya’s shoulder, and getting a puzzled look in response. “Katya, I need you to trust me. I think something important is going to happen shortly, and I need you to stay here and take care of it while Alex and I nip off for just a few minutes. Will you do that for me?”

“I’ve got psychic defenses installed by Audits telepaths, and another, deeper layer that the Black Sun implanted,” Katya said coolly. “You can’t manipulate me.”

“I’m not. I didn’t even try,” Emily protested. “I’m just asking, as a friend and a fellow member of the Rescue Alex from the Outer Dark Club.”

“That’s just so embarrassing,” Alex muttered. “Can we please change that name? I’m not even in the Outer Dark anymore.”

“You want me to stay here?” Katya gave Emily a look that he found impossible to categorize. “I’m supposed to let you take Alex off to wherever, to do whatever, with no explanation?”

“That’s about right,” Emily agreed. “Will you please?”

“Fuck no,” Katya said. “But I’ll meet you halfway.”

“That’s very kind,” Emily said. “What is exactly is halfway?”

“You can take Alex to do whatever,” Katya said. “But I’m coming with you.”

“Oh, if you insist,” Emily said. “It really would be better if you stayed, though. I’m sure everything would work out much better. My precognitive sources just insist that…”

“Where are you getting precog information from?” Katya asked. “You’ve got Vivik, but I don’t see any precogs wandering around here.”

“I have my sources,” Emily said coyly. “Some of them might also be other people’s sources.”

“You’ve got this game all figured out, don’t you?” Katya shook her head. “Turning a cartel pool. You’re gonna get yourself killed, you know.”

“I already died,” Emily said. “I’m still doing pretty well, I think.”

“Damn Anathema,” Katya said, without malice. “You sure you want to do this?” Katya said, turning her attention to Alex. “Whatever idea she has, it isn’t good.”

“I’m going to hear her out,” Alex said. “I owe her that much.”

“You owe me a great deal more than that, and much more than I plan to ask for,” Emily said. “This is just a teeny-tiny favor. Think of it as a down payment.”

“Oh. That’s good to know,” Alex said sourly. “Really good.”

***

Eerie wandered through the Ether like she was wandering aimlessly through the woods, and the Ether hurried to accommodate her, solidifying beneath her sneakers. She willed herself to be where Alex was.

The actualization of this desire was complicated by not knowing where Alex was.

She blushed at the memory of what would happen when she finally saw him again, and also because she knew that he was probably somewhere with Emily. Eerie still felt jealous when she thought about them together, though she did not mean to be.

Her Kismet Protocol had a talent for fulfilling impossible requests.

Making the impossible happen was the express purpose of the protocol.

Lacking a destination, her protocol made an educated guess.

Eerie put her left foot down on the coalesced Ether, and then her right on the grass of the commons at the Academy.

The grass was damp. The great oak trees bent and creaked in the wind.

It was too quiet.

The Academy had a hum that she had grown intimately familiar with, growing up here, a background pastiche of human activity and conversation, ventilation systems and utilities. All of that had gone silent.

“Alex?” she called, even though she already knew that this was the wrong place, because she would find that out as soon as she finished asking. “Katya?”

There was no reply. She considered searching, but something inside her was insistent that she was alone here.

Eerie stepped back into the Ether and tried again.

There was no traffic, so emerging in the middle of one of Central’s main intersections was not as dangerous as it first seemed, but it startled her to find herself in the middle of the road, surrounded by abandoned cars, and she hurried to the sidewalk.

She walked the half-block to the main entrance to the Administrative building, a massive stone rectangle that looked more like a bunker than an office, and knew that this time she was not alone.

Not the right people, but people.

“Halt! Hands in the air,” a voice barked from the pedestrian overpass above. “Who the fuck are you?”

She could hardly see the person behind the gun, but the voice sounded like it belonged to a woman. A man with a tablet and puzzled expression stood next to the woman above her, squinting at Eerie as if she were very distant.

“My name is Eerie,” she said, feeling that honesty was the best policy, despite how it all would work out. “The Auditors have an office here, right? I need to go check and see if my…if Alex is there.”

“Eerie what?” The man frowned at his tablet. “Is that a nickname?”

“No! Well, yes, but…”

“Holy shit. It’s actually on the list! No last name,” the man said, sounding mildly amazed. “You’re not a cartel member?”

“I’m a student at the Academy,” Eerie said, shaking her head. “I live there.”

“You should have stayed,” the man said, turning to his companion. “If she even moves, shoot her. This is the Changeling.”

The woman said nothing, but the way she held the ugly black gun changed.

“I just need to check for Alex,” Eerie said. “It’ll only take a minute.”

“Who the hell is Alex?” The man looked exasperated. “What are you talking about?”

“Alex, he’s…well, he’s…” Eerie blushed. “My friend. My boyfriend.”

“You are out of your mind,” the man said. “You don’t have to worry about him. You’ve got much bigger things to worry about, trust me.”

He glanced at his tablet, and then nodded.

“Okay,” he said to the woman at his right. “They’re sending somebody.”

“I don’t have a lot of time,” Eerie said. “Could I please just come inside for a second?”

“Someone will take you inside,” the man said, smirking. “They’re already on their way.”

“Oh. Good!”

She knew it wouldn’t be, but it felt important to stay hopeful. Even though ‘hope’ wasn’t a real thing, she liked the idea.

She waited, her arms starting to ache.

Two men hurried out of the glass doors at the front of the building, wearing masks and carrying guns and handcuffs and other things that made Eerie nervous.

“I don’t need the police or anything,” she said. “I just want to check one thing.”

“Alexander Warner, right? The Auditor? He’s listed as MIA, you know,” the man said, chuckling. “Captured in the field.”

“I know that,” Eerie said. “I made a whole club out of it.”

“I have no idea what you are saying, but you seem nice enough. I almost feel sorry for you,” the man said, not looking very sorry to Eerie. “Let me give you a piece of advice, girl. Stay talkative when they take you inside. I’m not sure that it could go well for you – this is a war, after all – but it can always go worse.”

“Nothing that bad is going to happen,” Eerie said. “To me, I mean.”

The two men moved closer. One of them had a baton, while the other was holding a bundle of white zip-ties.

She knew she would be okay, but she also knew how it could have gone, what could have happened to her inside that building. Knowing certain things is a great deal like experiencing certain things, the good and the bad alike, and that made her nervous, though she did not want to be. Eerie started to sweat, and to shift anxiously.

“Hold still,” the woman commanded. “Don’t move.”

“I should go,” Eerie blurted. “I don’t need to be here, do I? Alex isn’t here.”

“I told you, he’s MIA,” the man said. “This place is currently occupied by the Thule Cartel, anyway, so why would he be here?”

The two men were getting close, and Eerie felt tingly and a little faint, and very frightened, though she wasn’t sure for whom.

“I wish you had told me that first,” Eerie said. “You could have made this easier.”

“Be careful,” the man called to the two men below. “She’s an odd one, but according to the files…”

“Cooperate and everything will be fine,” one of the masked men said, grabbing her wrist and forcing it behind her back.

“I hate that!” Eerie shouted, struggling. “You’re hurting me, and you don’t need to!”

The man laughed and wrenched her shoulder, and it still hurt where Alistair had done the same thing, back in the Outer Dark, and she started to cry, kicking and fighting as best as she could.

The other man grabbed her around the neck, while her wrists were pushed together behind her back, and she could not breathe, and it was all too much.

Eerie panicked.

The struggle continued for a few more seconds, and in that time, she was truly frightened.

Even though she always knew how it ended.

The man behind her nearly had her hands in a zip-tie when he started to cough. He was choking and on his knees a moment later. The man who had grabbed her around the neck took a second longer, but he tumbled to the ground when it finally started, his lips already turning blue around the edges.

“You should have just told me he wasn’t here,” Eerie said, rubbing her neck and giving the man on the walkway a resentful look. “I don’t like this sort of thing.”

The man up on the footbridge stared at Eerie for a moment, and then nodded to the woman beside him in a distracted manner, as if it were an afterthought.

The woman took aim and pulled the trigger.

Eerie did not understand guns, or like them at all, but the Kismet Protocol understood everything she did not, and knew just what to do.

The gun shuddered and made a great deal of noise, and then white smoke started to seep out of the top. The woman swore and pulled at a lever on the side of the gun.

“What did you do?” The man’s voice was quiet, and the expression on his face had changed to something Eerie had seen before, realization turning slowly to fear. “How did you do that?”

Eerie did not bother to answer, because that would not have helped anyone. She only ever needed a few seconds of calm, anyway.

She stepped back into the Ether so that she did not have to watch the two men she had poisoned die.

Not that she meant to hurt them. It was just one of the things about being a Changeling that she could not control. Eerie always had to be careful about who she touched, and who touched her.

Which brought her thoughts back to Alex, and where he might be.

She wandered the Ether, rubbing her sore shoulder and trying to decide.

Then she got an idea, and with that, she had a destination.

Four

Day One

You’ll need to help her until you get to the Far Shores, at least, Sofia Morales-North thought, concentrating on the photo of Madison on her desk. Ms. Levy can’t do it all by herself. You’ll probably have to help her at the camp tonight, because you won’t make it all the way to the Far Shores today.

Okay, mom, Madison thought, shifting in her seat, grimacing at the effort telepathy took through the troubled Ether. It’s weird that she knows about me, though. I don’t know what she’ll do, now that it isn’t a secret.

That’s the important thing about secrets. You need to know when to keep them, and just the right moment to tell. Some secrets are better left unsaid, darling, but some are keys, waiting for the right lock.

I guess.

She was going to find out eventually. This was a perfect opportunity to reveal your true talent, Maddy, Sofia thought. Don’t let it worry you. Ms. Levy might not like it, but what can she do? She needs your help.

She really does. Madison felt distant, a paradox in telepathic rapport, where distance was not meant to be an issue. It’s hard to talk, mom. Is there anything else?

Eerie suddenly walked into the middle of the room, stepping out of nowhere, and Sofia nearly dropped the framed photo of her daughter.

Nothing, dear, Sofia thought, setting the picture down carefully on her desk. Just be careful.

I will.

I must go, Sofia thought, pulling herself together as the Changeling fixed her unnatural eyes on her. We will talk soon.

What happened, mom? I can feel something…

An unexpected opportunity, Sofia thought, rising in greeting. I’ll tell you more when I know it.

Madison disappeared reluctantly from her mind, though Sofia knew she was disappointed, and would have preferred to listen in. Sofia was proud of her daughter and her composure.

“Eerie, welcome,” Sofia said, walking around her desk. “I did not expect you.”

Sofia felt giddy, as she always did, when something she had not seen in her dreams happened.

It was a little worrisome when her prescience failed her, but it also quickened her pulse. It meant something big was about to happen. Sofia had not seen it coming when Henry proposed to her, for example – not by precognition, in any case, though she suspected in the usual way for women – or when she had been invited to join the Sewing Circle.

“Hi Sofia,” Eerie said, the melodic tone Sofia associated with the Changeling substituted for something somber and perhaps more poised. “I like your office. Your desk and stuff make you look important.”

Sofia took Eerie’s hands and guided her to a chair.

Her hands tingled when she touched the Changeling.

“Thank you, Eerie,” Sofia said, settling into the chair beside Eerie, rather than returning to her desk. “I’m sorry I’ve never invited you to come visit.”

“That’s okay,” Eerie said. “We aren’t friends.”

“We aren’t?” Sofia smiled. “That’s too bad.”

“That makes this easier,” Eerie said. “I hate asking friends for favors. Friends are more important than what they can do for you. Don’t you think?”

“I agree,” Sofia said, keeping her puzzlement off her face. “Has something happened, Eerie? You seem to have changed since we last spoke.”

“I hope so,” Eerie said. “Who wants to stay the same forever?”

“No one, I suppose. Do you want to tell me what is going on?”

“Not really. I don’t want to help you any more than I must.”

“How forthright!” Sofia laughed. “Why wouldn’t you want to help me? We were together in the Sewing Circle for years.”

“I like you okay,” Eerie said. “Your husband is a bad guy, though. Not to you, I mean, but to a friend of mine, and some other people I don’t care about. You know what I mean.”

“I have no idea,” Sofia said coldly. “Are you accusing him of something?”

“Not really. Just saying. I didn’t come here about him, or about you. I need a favor.”

“You said that already, although you’ve done very little to convince me to help you.”

“I don’t need to convince you,” Eerie said. “You know I can make it up to you.”

“I don’t even know what you want! How can you possibly know what it might be worth to me?”

“You must know about your son. Kevin. The one with the cool hair,” Eerie said, gesturing at her own disheveled locks. “You dream about this sort of thing, right? That’s what Anastasia said, once.”

Putting aside her reservations about Anastasia knowing such a thing, and her even greater reservations about Anastasia just so happening to casually mention it to the Changeling, Sofia was troubled.

The dreams had troubled her, of course.

Like most precognitives, she was nearly blind where her immediate family was concerned.

She could see the ripples they created, though, if an event in their lives was important enough to have an impact on others. Sofia was fortunate, in a way, that her family was so crucial to Central and the Hegemony. Any sort of real harm coming to her husband or children would have vast ramifications, and that was the kind of thing she did dream about.

She knew the chances were not good for her eldest child, Kevin. She did not how or why, she merely saw the possible consequences for the likely heir to the North Cartel, political and otherwise, and felt the worst kind of powerlessness. It was like watching one of her children be hit by a car from an upstairs window, or on a video feed, unable to help or intervene, but so aware of the likely and awful outcome.

“I don’t know what you mean,” Sofia said, the lie coming to her lips while her brain was still stunned. “What about Kevin? Is something going to…?”

“I only have a week, so let’s not pretend,” Eerie said. “You know what I mean. He will probably die, if nothing changes.”

“Die?” Sofia felt a chill come over her, as if she had left a window open just behind her. “You must be joking.”

“That would be a mean thing to do. I don’t like jokes very much, especially mean jokes.”

“What do you mean? How…what happens?”

“I’m not sure, because I’m not there when it happens. I find out later, because it’s important.”

Sofia stood abruptly, and started to pace the room, aware that she was giving her guest a psychological advantage, but unable to contain herself or her anxiety further.

“I’m sorry, Eerie, but this is all very hard for me to accept.”

“It will probably happen. Almost for sure,” Eerie said solemnly. “You know that.”

“I might,” Sofia said, turning her back so the Changeling could not see her face. “Imagine how that would make me feel, as his mother.”

“I can’t,” Eerie said. “I don’t get it at all. But I don’t like to lose things, so maybe it’s like that?”

Sofia said nothing, willing her whole body to stillness, drawing upon generations of training and breeding for composure.

“What do you want from me?”

“Do you know what I do?”

Eerie looked at her with a somber expression that would have been perfectly normal on any face but her own, and Sofia questioned all her prior interactions with the Fey. Had this always been inside of her? Had her prior weirdness and oblivious nature been an act? Or had something changed, changing her so radically that Sofia could hardly recognize her?

Even through the morass of potential grief, Sofia felt a tingle of excitement.

Uncharted territory.

“I change things,” Eerie said, as if that explained it satisfactorily. “Nothing needs to happen to your son. Well, I guess something must happen, but it doesn’t have to be, you know. The bad thing. That bad thing, anyway. I could change it.”

“How would you do that?” Sofia sat down beside the Changeling, feeling a bit lightheaded. “How can you change what will happen?”

“It’s like a game,” Eerie said, her voice low, confiding in Sofia. “I can move the pieces. It’s hard, and I can only do it a little, just nudge them. It would be enough, though. I can make nearly sure it won’t happen.”

“Nearly isn’t what I’m after,” Sofia said, deciding to be honest. “I need to be certain.”

“Nothing is certain,” Eerie said, sadly. “Nothing ever will be. It isn’t certain that he’ll die, if I do nothing, and there’s nothing I can do that will make certain that he will live. I can shift the odds in his favor. That’s all.”

“I still don’t understand what you mean to do,” Sofia said. “And I’m not convinced that I need your help.”

“You know that you do, and I need yours, so let’s not tell each other lies,” Eerie said, looking a trifle annoyed, and dazing Sofia further. “I won’t tell you how I will do it, but I promise I will change things for your son. I will give him the best possible chance.”

“I see,” Sofia said, blood pounding in her temples. “What is it you want in exchange?”

“I know that you don’t know where Alex is,” Eerie said, studying Sofia with grotesquely dilated eyes. “I think you know where he will be, though, and I want to know, because I am looking for him, and I can’t find him on my own.”

That giddiness again, rising in her chest like a zeppelin, lifting the weight of her future grief.

Sofia had dreamed of Alexander Warner the night before, which was oddity, as she had never met the boy. In the dream, he was standing beside a black SUV with Emily Muir and a Black Sun assassin whose name she had forgotten, doing nothing of note. She had wondered about the significance of it all morning, and the sudden understanding was as satisfying as fitting the last piece into one of the giant puzzles that her husband favored.

“I see,” Sofia said. “I think I can help you.”

“I know that I will help you. Shall we?”

“How should we do this?” Sofia asked, surprised at her own impulsiveness. “Shall I tell you first, or…?”

It was as if there were an impossibly brief and violent earthquake, though Central had no seismic activity, and nothing in the room was disturbed. Sofia felt discombobulated, as unsteady as a small boat in high seas, but the feeling passed before she could even put her hands to her eyes.

The air in the room was so full of golden sparks that Sofia was afraid to take a breath, for fear of inhaling one.

“I’ve already done my part,” Eerie said. “Please tell me where, okay?”

***

Alex was expecting an apport, so he was very surprised when a man with several facial piercings and a scruffy beard arrived at the gate to the Far Shores, on the winding road that crawled up the foothills, driving an SUV that had seen better days, if the bullet holes in the front panel above the tire were any indication.

“Come along if you are coming,” Emily said, climbing into the passenger seat. “We are on a schedule.”

Katya and Alex exchanged a doubtful look before climbing into the back seat, Alex holding the door and Katya clambering across the bench to the other side.

“This is Carlos, a friend I made in the Outer Dark,” Emily said, patting the driver on his broad shoulder, exposed by the threadbare tank top that he wore. “Carlos, these are my friends from the Academy, Alex and Katya.”

“Nice to meet you,” Carlos said, the smile beneath his bristly mustache offering a flash of incongruously perfect teeth. “Seatbelts, everyone. This could be a rough ride.”

“Are we going far?” Katya asked.

“Not too terribly far,” Emily said, glancing at her phone. “Not even fifteen minutes, under normal circumstances, but things being as they are in Central, we’ll probably need to take back roads.”

“Looks like someone took a couple shots at you, Carlos,” Katya observed, leaning out to look at the bullet holes. “Was that today?”

“On the way over here,” Carlos said, chuckling. “The main road is nightmare. You know, Emily’s old family place. The old Muir estate. You’ve heard of it, right?”

Alex shook his head, while Katya nodded, and Emily made an uncomfortable face. Carlos only seemed to notice Katya’s response.

“Thule set up a sniper’s nest there, and they are taking shots at anything that drives by,” Carlos explained, turning on to a dirt track that led into the woods that bordered the Academy. “They got a roadblock, too, but it wasn’t quite finished, so I managed to pull around it. That won’t work again. Looked like they were setting up a fixed gun, too, maybe.”

“That’s a problem,” Emily said, still intent on her phone. “I’ll have to warn Adel, or he’ll never make it back.”

“You’d be safer back at the Far Shores, Miss,” Carlos said. “You and your friends.”

“I appreciate your concern,” Emily said, smiling at him. “I need Alex’s help for this particular errand, and I’m afraid Katya doesn’t trust me enough to leave him alone with me, so we are stuck making it a group outing.”

Carlos laughed uproariously, pounding the steering wheel a couple times and nearly taking them off the narrow track that wound through the woods. It wasn’t even really a road, Alex decided, as he and Katya were tossed about the cab, but rather a trail for pedestrians and bicyclists.

“Worried that she’s going to steal your boyfriend?” Carlos leered at Katya in the rear view, nearly sending them off the road. “I don’t think you need to worry. He’s not much to look at, is he?”

“He’s definitely not my boyfriend,” Katya said, clinging to the door handle. “Maybe ask Emily what she thinks about him.”

Carlos laughed, only just avoiding wrapping them around the blackened stump of a tree struck by lightning. Alex held on to the seatback in front of him for dear life, but he felt no anxiety, trying instead to recall if he had ever seen lightning in Central.

“I see,” Carlos said, winking at Emily. “I misread the situation.”

“It’s not a big deal,” Emily said, her smile a formality. “Slow down, will you please? Our passengers are not quite as resilient as you and I.”

“Sure, sure,” Carlos said, slowing down very slightly. “Are you a student at the Academy, young man?”

“Not anymore,” Alex said, meeting Carlos’s eyes in the mirror. “I’m an Auditor.”

Carlos blanched and was silent for the space of two hair-pin turns.

“What about you, young lady?” Carlos asked hopefully, turning his attention to Katya. “Are you still at the Academy?”

“I wish,” Katya said, glaring at him. “I’m Anastasia Martynova’s personal assassin.”

Carlos went paler than before.

“And an Auditor,” Alex reminded her.

“That, too.”

“Is that a fact?” Carlos grinned nervously. “You have some friends, Miss Muir.”

“You have no idea how right you are, Carlos,” Emily said, busy with her phone. “Present company very much included.”

Alex waited until he was almost certain that he was going to vomit before he raised his voice.

“Uh, hey,” Alex said queasily, grasping on to the headrest of Emily’s seat. “How far are we going?”

“We are nearly there,” Emily said, glancing up from her phone. “Just a few more minutes.”

“Okay,” Alex said. “Good.”

“Carlos, if you don’t slow down, I think Alex might puke in your car,” Emily said, texting away with an apparent immunity to road sickness. “Maybe crack a window, Alex?”

Carlos slowed to the sort of speed common to a paved highway, but it was an improvement. Alex rolled the window down, leaned back in the seat, and closed his eyes tight.

He made it, but it was close.

Emily gave a few directions, near the end, but Carlos seemed to know most of the way, despite a lack of signage or obvious routes. The track they followed continued to degrade, and branches whipped across the sides of the SUV as they drove. Stones and potholes rocked the vehicle, and the all-terrain tires spat out a stream of sand and gravel. The forest thickened as they approached the steeper grades above the Academy, and then thinned out into regular clearings dotted with stumps and saplings on the slope, the result of recent logging.

They followed a logging road along the base of what was mostly sheer rock and crumbling cliffs, and then they were back into the trees. They turned off the dirt track and rolled across several meters of pine needles, coming to a stop in front of a barrier made by felled trees, a half-dozen mossy trucks making further progress impossible.

“Come along, Alex,” Emily said, stepping out. “This won’t take a minute.”

Alex hurried after her, ignoring the way Carlos winked at him as he trotted by. Katya followed at a short distance, grumbling to herself.

The trees they walked between were enormous, the largest Alex had ever seen. Immense black oaks were separated by tall copses of redwoods, a handful of fragrant cedar towering above the rest, blocking nearly all the grey light from the sky. The variety and spacing looked wrong to Alex, and he suspected the wood was cultivated, rather than wild, even if it was ancient.

“What is this place?” Alex put a hand on the orange-brown bark of one of the giant cedars as he passed it, and it was far softer than he expected. “Where are we?”

“That’s a secret, actually,” Emily said, finally putting away her phone, which could not have possibly had service. “But you know I don’t mind telling secrets. This is technically part of the Academy, even this far up the mountain, so maintenance is the responsibility of the Director, though clearly not much of a priority. The Director comes out here once or twice a year to pull the allotment of nanites for the new Introductions, and that’s about it. The approach is meant to be guarded, and the staff telepaths keep an eye on it, but…” Emily shrugged her tanned shoulders. “You know how things are right now.”

Emily led him around a pair of gnarled and broad oaks this time, and then there was only rock in front of them, and a door set in the mountain side. The door and frame were of typical issue, painted institutional green, and looked wildly incongruous with the granite slope, dotted with tufts of withering grass.

“This is a lonely place, don’t you think?” Emily put her finger to the lock on the door, and for a moment, her finger seemed to flow into the mechanism. The lock turned, and then the door opened. “Not many people come here, or ever have.”

“I know where we are,” Katya said. “What are you up to, Emily?”

“Why does everyone ask me that?” Emily laughed. “I already told you what I’m doing. Come now, Alex. Let’s make this quick.”

She waved him into the tunnel, pausing to activate the string lights tacked to either wall.

The tunnel was cut directly into the stone, bored out smooth and perfect. Alex could not see where it ended from the entrance. He hesitated and turned to Katya.

“Where are we?”

He kept his voice low, but it still echoed down the tunnel, and he was sure that he heard Emily chuckle.

“The Source Well is down there,” Katya said grimly. “I’ve seen pictures.”

“What the hell is…?”

“The Source Well is where the nanites were discovered,” Emily called out, from somewhere further down the tunnel. “It’s not a well, really, but a cistern. They are stored in solution in a cache basin down here, in the solid rock, a safe distance from the aquifer and from outside contamination. One of Central’s true feats of engineering.”

“Yeah,” Katya said. “What she said.”

“Do we go?” Alex glanced around nervously. “What do you think?”

“We’ve come this far,” Katya said, heading down the tunnel. “I want to know what she’s doing.”

Emily must have kept a decent pace, because they didn’t catch up to her in the tunnel.

The tunnel was in partial ruins, though when Alex looked closely at the damage, it did not appear to be the work of time or abandonment. Chunks of stone had been split from the walls, and the ceiling was covered with black burn marks. The tunnel led down to a massive, high-ceilinged chamber that was in even worse shape. Temporary supports and metal struts were placed throughout the chamber at regular intervals, supporting damaged buttresses high above.

A cruder tunnel followed that, and after a few short twists and turns, they found Emily waiting for them in the final chamber.

The walls were rough stone and the ceiling was low enough to make Alex duck. The room was empty aside from Emily, no furnishings aside from a trio of work lights that provided uneven illumination.

A stone manhole was set in the floor, and around it was a great deal of new concrete and patching. The heavy carved capstone had been tossed aside, to reveal a small well beneath, brimming with still and unremarkable water.

“There was a fight here,” Katya said. “A big one.”

“Yes,” Emily said. “The Anathema fought the Auditors down here. It ended in something of a stalemate, but John got what he wanted out of it anyway.”

“You seem to know a lot about it,” Katya said, eying Emily. “Was that something you were involved in?”

“Only peripherally,” Emily said. “I was quite occupied at the time.”

“Why are we here?” Alex asked, crouching beside the Source Well.

“I’ve told you before. What happened to the three of us wasn’t right,” Emily said. “The whole of Central is wrong. We were children, and they made us into something worse than what we should have been, and for no good reason. I won’t stand by and watch them do that to another generation of children.”

Alex dangled his fingers in the Source Well, expecting to feel something special – a sting, perhaps, or some sort of tingle – but was surprised to feel nothing, not even wetness. Then he remembered the dismemberment and replacement of his fingers and switched to the other hand.

It felt just like any other water. Perhaps a bit colder than he would have expected.

“They killed my sister and they killed my parents,” Emily said. “They killed me. I won’t let it happen anymore. I want you to do what you did to the World Tree, Alex. I want you to freeze the Source Well and destroy the nanites.”

“You are out of your fucking mind, Emily!” Katya grabbed Alex’s shoulder. “You can’t just destroy the Source Well! Do you even know…?”

I need you to do this for me, Alex, Emily thought, crouching beside him and dangling her own fingers in the Source Well. For a moment he thought he saw something there, a liquidity at her fingertips, but dismissed it as a product of the poor lighting. I need your help.

I want to help, Alex thought, shaking his hand dry. I do.

But you won’t?

This is a big deal.

The World Tree was a big deal, and you were fine with that.

That belonged to John Parson, though, right? I was fine destroying the Anathema World Tree. I’m not so sure about doing the same thing here. Isn’t Central doomed without this place?

Central is doomed, Emily thought. There’s no changing that. We don’t need protocols to live in Central, if we maintain the Etheric Network and the Fixed Apport Stations. We don’t need telepaths or precognitives, and we don’t need Anathema or Auditors. We don’t need cartels.

Are you sure? Haven’t our protocols kept us alive?

The trouble your protocol has saved you from is trouble that your protocol caused, Alex. Don’t you think?

I’m not sure what to think. What happens if I freeze this place?

The Source Well freezes, the nanites die, and we go back to the Far Shores. Everything else stays the same.

This won’t end the war? It won’t affect anything?

You know as well as I do that Anastasia plans to bring the war to Central. You remember the Black Sun’s agenda, don’t you? If she gets access to the Source Well – and at this point, who’s to stop her? – then she’ll perform mass Introductions. She’ll contaminate water supplies with nanites, all over the world.

So?

One in four don’t survive Introduction here in Central, Alex, and that’s with precognitives choosing likely candidates and telepathic monitoring during the Introduction. Can you imagine what the death rate will be like among the general population, with no precautions or screening?

Uh, a lot?

It will be a catastrophe.

I don’t know.

Why are you so reluctant, dear? Do you truly care if there are more Operators or not?

I don’t want everyone to want me dead, you know? Ms. Gallow won’t like it if the Source Well is destroyed.

Ms. Gallow doesn’t like anything but killing.

My point exactly. I’m trying not to make her list.

Don’t worry about it. I’ll take the blame, if blame must be taken.

How? Katya’s is right here – and if you hadn’t cut her out of the conversation, she would be letting you know how pissed she is at the suggestion.

Katya means well, but she was born into a cartel, and lived her whole life as part of the Black Sun. She is worried about their interests, not her own. How could it negatively impact Katya to destroy the Source Well? Think about what has happened to her, Alex. Think about all the terrible things that have been done to Katya, because she was given a protocol that gave her a choice between being useless and being a murderer.

That’s a little…

Think about yourself, if you don’t have any sympathy for Katya. Are you any less of a victim?

Fuck, Emily, that’s…just tell me why we’re doing this, okay?

Why I want to destroy the Source Well? I already told you.

I know you too well to believe all that stuff. Tell me what’s really going on. If you’ve got a good reason, I’ll help.

I’ve given you my reasons. If you don’t believe me after everything we’ve been through, then I’ll probably never earn your trust.

Don’t be like that!

What? It’s true. Don’t you trust me at all?

That isn’t the only issue, and you know it. What about me? I pay for it, every time I use my protocol. The Source Well is huge. Can you imagine how long I’ll sleep if I…?

Are you sure that you sleep longer based on how much you use the Absolute Protocol?

What? Yes! I mean, I think…well, Katya said, and…

Katya is a genius in doing more with less, because she had very little to work with, Emily thought. Are you sure her circumstances haven’t prejudiced your opinion?

It’s happened before, though! I slept for months, because I used it too much, when the Anathema invaded.

You had to sleep for so long because you were inexperienced and used your protocol inefficiently. You’ve learned a bunch since then. Don’t you think you’ve improved? Typically, as Black Protocol users learn and grow, the cost of using their protocol decreases, you see, and not the other way around.

Really? But I thought…

Why would they bother to train you at all, if it just made things worse? Efficiency is the whole idea. Using less to accomplish more is the definition of progress, don’t you think?

He gave Emily’s suggestion due consideration.

Then he reached for his protocol, straining to activate the implanted routine…

…or was it a strain? Did it need to be? Alex felt Emily at the edges of his mind, knocking politely, as it were, on the door of his consciousness.

He let her in grudgingly and felt her guide his perception for the tiniest sliver of a moment. He felt the vastness of the Absolute Protocol like an obelisk rising out of barren desert, alien and unyielding. It felt like a thorn embedded beneath his skin, like an arch bearing the weight of an enormous structure.

Katya showed you how do to a respectable amount with very little, which is a valuable lesson, Emily thought, nudging his thoughts in new directions. She could not tell you how to accomplish great things efficiently, because of her own limitations.

All at once he was looking at himself from the outside, the pulsing trunk line that connected him to the Ether, an Etheric Signature in the shape of a boy with bad posture crouched beside a well in the dark.

It was like watching a smoking volcano, waiting for magma and internal pressure to blow the top, like twisting the cork on a bottle of sparkling wine.

You see now, Emily thought, retreating from his head. You see what I see.

Yeah. The Absolute Protocol was a piling driven deep into the tidal mud of his subconscious, a pinion on which the machinery of the entire world might turn. I see it.

It was a question of application, Alex remembered Michael telling him, and not necessarily one of power.

A simple, cold realization.

The tips of his dead fingers sang with resonance to the Ether, and his dead eye throbbed.

…what that would mean?” Katya finished, gripping his shoulder tight. “They’ll kill you both for even trying!”

Alex sighed.

“Somebody’s gonna kill me eventually,” he said, putting out his hand over the Source Well, his palm just grazing the water. “That’s how it goes for killers, right? You can only be the fastest and luckiest so many times.”

“Don’t do this, Alex!” Katya said, shaking him. “This will make everything worse!”

He looked at the Source Well with his replaced eye, tracking the web of glimmering Ether down into the stone. It felt deep.

“Take a step back, okay?” Alex said, the air chilling around him. “Maybe a couple.”

Emily gently tugged Katya away. The assassin was either too stunned to put up a fight, or pacified by empathic intervention.

Alex did not need to reach for the Absolute Protocol.

It was waiting for him as soon as his thoughts turned to it, imposing and frigid as an iceberg floating in the darker waters of his mind.

Emily pulled Katya back to the door of the chamber.

Katya opened her mouth to protest, and he could see her breath, though he could not hear her words over the muted roar of the white noise in his ears. A perfect circle of frost collected on the chamber floor around him.

Alex closed his eyes, and he could feel the Ether everywhere, full of potential energy, eagerly filling the voids that the Absolute Protocol created. He could almost count the trillions of nanites in the waters of the Source Well, each gleaming like a cut and faceted stone, and felt as if he could have followed their passage through the medium by the vivid trails they left behind, falling submolecular stars in a liquid sky.

The stone basin cracked as the Source Well froze into one solid mass, the nanites trapped and suspended in the ice.

It was so simple, Alex thought, opening his eyes. How could he have not seen it before, when it was right there?

The strands of Ether that were attached to the nanites had stopped vibrating.

It took nothing more than a command, a simple act of will, and the Absolute Protocol severed those threads, extinguishing a trillion nanoscale lights in an instant.

***

Progress was slower than the Director anticipated. As the evening approached, she grudgingly acknowledged the need to stop for the night, following Gerald’s directions to an Academy-maintained campground near a small lake just off the road. Rebecca was checking names on a clipboard as children exited the second to last bus. She had just recorded ‘Nahas, Rayan’ as the sniffling eight-year-old left the bus, and was moving on to ‘Ong, Jaime,’ who was almost invisible behind the bulky duffel he was carrying in his arms, when she felt it.

Years in Southern California made her think first of an earthquake, but she knew that was wrong before the thought was finished. Central had very little tectonic activity, close enough to none that it made Academy geologists very anxious. Hell, Central barely even had weather.

The dislocated moment had not been an earthquake.

The ground beneath her was stable.

The disturbance here was much more fundamental. Something had changed, and Rebecca could almost feel the precognitive pools crying out in collective confusion and rage as years of careful calculations were ruined.

She caught Gerald Windsor’s eye, and he nodded, putting aside his own clipboard.

“That’s the third time in two days,” Rebecca said, steering Jaime Ong out into the campground. “What the hell is going on?”

“Someone is tampering,” Gerald said. “We’ve known since the night we came upon Alexander Warner that someone was creating new possibilities. There never seemed to be a clear agenda to it, and all the chances were just so slim, it was easy to overlook in the face of Alistair’s treachery or the Anathema invasion.”

“There’s more to it than that. This isn’t the unlikely coming to be, this is someone taking the established order and twisting it around on itself.” Rebecca hurried Abby Panh off the bus, quieting her anxieties with a pat on the head and an empathic tweak. “This is someone who knows what everyone is expecting to happen, and they are breaking things.”

“I cannot help but worry over our poor lost Changeling,” Gerald said sadly. “We’ve not done our best by our students, have we?”

“This isn’t over,” Rebecca said, hurrying her line along. “Don’t count us out yet, okay?”

***

Carlos started talking the minute they got back to the SUV, but this time, Alex was glad for the distraction.

No one had said a word since he had frozen the Source Well.

Katya was angry, refusing to let him catch up to her on the walk back, and taking the front passenger seat before Emily could object to the arrangement.

The car was filled with a stifling silence.

Emily was busy again with her phone.

Alex tried to look at the scenery as they drove through the woods, but Carlos had reverted to form, and it was all Alex could do to hold on.

He felt unsure if he had done the right thing, but that was nothing new.

Alex wasn’t sure there was a right thing at all.

“Who are you texting, anyway?”

“Vivik,” Emily said, grinning. “And that’s absolutely none of your business.”

“Hey!” Alex glared. “I just did you a favor!”

“Thank you very much, Alex,” Emily said. “I’m sorry, dear, are you bored? Have I been ignoring you?”

Carlos laughed and pounded the steering well, bouncing them all over the road.

“We are going to die,” Katya said, eyes closed, her head leaning out of the open window. “Please let us die before I vomit.”

“Where did you come from, anyway?” Alex demanded, tapping Carlos’s shoulder. “How did you meet Emily?”

“I’m Anathema, or I was, I suppose,” Carlos said. “I worked for Marcus, like she did.”

“Yeah? Why’d you decide to go with her when she left the Outer Dark?”

“Are you kidding? Have you met Alistair? Oh, right, you have! I heard about that.” Carlos laughed, and Alex decided he was getting tired of being laughed at. “Emily’s great! And compared to Alistair or Parson, well, no contest, right?”

“Thank you, Carlos,” Emily said. “I’m glad you feel that way.”

“She’s way hotter, too,” Carlos said. “No contest there, either.”

“Not as happy about that, but a compliment is a compliment,” Emily said. “I suppose.”

Katya glanced at the driver, her arms wrapped around her middle and her face pale.

“You are going to slow down, Carlos,” Katya instructed. “And everyone is going to shut up. Or I will puke on you, and then kill you, in that order.”

Carlos finished the drive with an abundance of caution, and no one said a word until they were back at the Far Shores, where a blue-haired young woman waited, sitting on the lowered arm of the gate with her sneakers dangling above the asphalt.

***

Timing wasn’t a thing.

Eerie knew that it was a question of placement, if anything. Proximity and scheduling.

Those issues resolved so suddenly that instead of relief she felt as if something was being drained from her, like water leaking from a cracked glass, her emotions spilling into the grass and seeping down through the dirt.

She had promised herself many things about the moment, but she forgot all of them, and instead of being brave, or cool, or any of what she had planned, she just sat and waited for something to happen.

Alex and Katya emerged from the SUV and then stood side by side, gaping at her. Emily did not seem surprised at all.

At least, that was the way it looked to her.

It felt a little unfamiliar, being able to read facial expressions, while simultaneously feeling as natural as if she had been doing it her whole life. Which she would, Eerie supposed, from here on forward.

Which was the same thing as having always done it, to a Changeling. She stood as Alex trotted over, Katya right behind him.

“Eerie?” Alex was ghost-white and wide-eyed as he approached. “Is that really you?”

“Yes, it really is,” she said, thinking of her unwashed and altogether blonde hair self-consciously. “Did you miss me?”

“Yes,” he said earnestly, reaching for her. “What the hell? Where have you…?”

Alex wrapped her in his arms and crushed her to his chest.

His embrace was too tight, making her ribs ache, but she did not particularly mind. She put her arms around him and breathed deep, Alex smelling like smoke and stress, but most importantly like him. She felt a little dizzy, though she had known this was coming, and had been here before.

I’m always here, really, she thought. I’m always lingering here, in this moment.

Was it the first time she had experienced their reunion, she wondered? Or the hundredth?

Eerie was overcome with relief and nostalgia intermingled, remembering as it happened; his fingers in her hair and on the back of her neck, the warm solidity of the embrace, her elbow brushing the gun holstered at his side, a queasy reminder of their circumstance.

Just be, she reminded herself, leaning into him. Before and after might not be real, but first certainly was.

Eventually his arms relaxed, and she leaned back to look him in the face.

He took the opportunity.

Alex kissed her, urgently and a little clumsily, just the way she had known he would.

Had.

Always did.

It felt a little bit like melting, and it could have gone on forever, as far as she was concerned.

“Come on you two,” Katya grumbled agreeably, tapping Alex on the shoulder. “You’re in public, and she needs to breathe.”

Alex let her go reluctantly. Eerie hung on to his hand, intertwining their fingers.

They all looked at each other and smiled.

The grins turned into laughter, embarrassed and sincere.

“It’s good to see you, Eerie,” Katya said, giving the Changeling a quick squeeze. “I was really worried. I’m sorry I couldn’t stop Parson from taking you.”

“No, it’s okay,” Eerie said hurriedly. “That always – I mean, that had to happen.”

“You sound different,” Alex said, a hint of worry in his eyes. “You’re not…you know. You used to sound…”

“I’ve remembered who I am, or will be, or...I’m not sure how to say it.” Eerie frowned, feeling a little of her old awkwardness, fumbling with language. “This is how I’m supposed to be, I think.”

“I thought so,” Katya said. “It’s been a while, then, Ériu. I’m glad to see you again.”

Alex looked bewildered.

“You don’t have to call me that,” Eerie assured them. “Eerie is fine. I like Eerie.”

“You are Ériu, though, right?” Katya looked at the Changeling closely. “We met before, in the Outer Dark. We talked.”

“Yes. This is the same me as then. It’s like I told you,” Eerie said, squeezing Alex’s hand. “Your memory is a flat line, but mine goes around and around.”

“I don’t get it,” Alex admitted. “I don’t care, though. It’s just so good to have you back. How did you find us?”

“Kismet,” Eerie explained. “I wanted to be where you were. So, I was. Eventually. I need to ask you. Alex, do you still like me?”

“What?” Alex’s brow creased. “What do you mean?”

“I’ve changed. Maybe you liked me better the other way? Maybe you don’t…?”

“Do you feel better the way you are now?”

“Better than what?”

“Better than you did, before, uh…” Alex scratched his head. “I don’t actually know. Whatever happened.”

“Oh. Uh. Yes,” she said, thinking about it. “I think I do. This is…this is right. Normal, I guess.”

“Then it’s good by me,” Alex said. “I like you no matter what, you know? I just do.”

She hugged him again.

Katya laughed.

“I think I’m going to leave you two alone,” she said. “It’s a little…”

“No, don’t go!” Eerie said, grabbing her hand. “We’ll stop.”

“I really don’t want to intrude,” Katya said, hesitating. “But I think maybe it’s important that I understand. How did you get here, Eerie?”

“I walked,” she said, with a little shrug. “Like I said. I wanted…”

“But you aren’t an apport technician, right?”

“No.”

“So, it was like when you took us to the Outer Dark??”

“Yes. Reality accommodates my point of view,” Eerie said. “I don’t know how else to explain it.”

“What does that mean?” Katya asked. “You can just do whatever you want?”

“It’s not exactly…things work out for me,” Eerie explained nervously. “Not everything. Just important things. Right now, it’s the most that it will ever be. I’m the youngest, and I’ve just remembered myself.”

“So, at least, you can apport and see the future,” Katya said doubtfully. “That’s quite a protocol.”

“The Kismet Protocol is more and less than what you think,” Eerie said. “Don’t worry. You will understand very soon.”

“I will?” Katya frowned. “That sounds ominous.”

“Oh yes. It is,” Eerie said, nodding vigorously. “You see, the Church of Sleep is assembling. Once roles are settled, they will come here. For me, really.”

“What do they want with you?” Alex asked, standing very close.

“There is no good word for what the Church of Sleep want to do to me,” Eerie said. “They…inhabit? Possess? I’m not sure how to say it. Changelings, all my sisters, are taken by the Church of Sleep as soon as we reach maturity. Like we are fruit, and they are waiting for us to ripen. They require us, as hosts and sustenance.”

“That’s terrible,” Alex said. “We won’t…”

“The Church of Sleep is a parasite,” Eerie said. “It is not natural or healthy for living things to sleep. Sleep is an affliction, inflicted on every living thing by the Church. They sustain themselves on the hours you lose, but they need us too, a regular supply of fresh Changelings, or they will dwindle and recede, and perhaps become prey to something more terrible in the Outer Dark.”

“I’m not sure I understand,” Alex said, putting an arm around her. “But you know that’s not going to happen, right? I – we won’t let it happen.”

“That’s right,” Katya said. “Not a chance.”

“Well, probably not,” Emily said, grinning over Katya’s shoulder. “Not if we all help out. It’s nice to see you again, Eerie.”

“You too, Emily,” Eerie said, hurriedly taking Alex’s arm. “I think. Thank you for helping with everything.”

“It was my pleasure,” Emily said. “I’ve been looking after Alex while you were busy.”

“Don’t be a bitch,” Katya warned Emily. “This isn’t about you.”

“Oh, I agree completely!” Emily said, laughing. “It’s never been about me, as I recall. I’m perfectly willing to play my own minor part in this affair without complaint.”

“Cut it out, Emily,” Katya snapped. “That’s enough.”

“For someone like me, enough is never satisfactory. Not when I can have more,” Emily said. “I don’t wish to be a bother – truly, I don’t – but there is the small matter of the favor, or favors, owed to me by each of you…”

“Emily!”

“…well, it is true, I’m afraid,” Emily said, smiling apologetically. “Let’s not worry about that right now. Please, all of you, consider yourself my guests here at the Far Shores.”

Katya’s eyebrows shot up.

“What the hell are you talking about? I’m not a guest. I live here! My stuff is here, or was, before someone appropriated my room.” Katya planted herself in front of Emily. “Last I checked, the Far Shores were a part of Central, under the Administration.”

“They certainly were the last time you checked,” Emily said, nodding. “You have been away, however, and changes have been made in your absence. You could say that the Far Shores has come under new management.”

“Let me get this straight,” Katya said. “You are taking over the Far Shores?”

“It’s a past-tense situation, I’m afraid,” Emily said. “I’ve already taken it over. Quite a settled affair.”

“Is it?” Katya’s hands twitched. “Alice Gallow might have something to say about that.”

“I’ve already had a bit of a conflict with your Auditor friends, back when they were at strength,” Emily said, gleaming with false modesty. “They were rather conclusively defeated, you see. If they should return…”

“If?” Alex started. “Is it that bad?”

“Bad and worse,” Emily confirmed. “If the Auditors return to the Far Shores, in their diminished numbers, they will not be able to contend with my claim of ownership.”

“You are very confident,” Katya observed.

“I am indeed,” Emily agreed. “As for the favors I mentioned…”

“Tomorrow,” Katya said grimly. “Not now.”

“Whatever do you mean, Katya dear?”

“These two deserve a day,” Katya said, pointing at Alex and Eerie. “They’ve been through a lot. Hell, we’ve all been through a bunch of shit to see them together again. They deserve at least a day to enjoy that. They’ve earned that much.”

“But…”

“No,” Katya said, folding her arms. “Not until the morning. This is non-negotiable.”

“I’m not sure why you think you are in a position to dictate anything to me, but have it your way,” Emily said, with a bit of a sigh. “A few hours won’t make a meaningful difference. May I at least make a request?”

“No,” Katya said.

“Of course,” Alex interjected. “What is it?”

“I would like to cook dinner for you all, tomorrow,” Emily said. “Would you join me at seven?”

“I’m not sure,” Eerie said. “Will I have to eat food?”

“My capabilities in the kitchen are not limited to food,” Emily said demurely. “I’m also quite a good at making candy.”

“Candy sounds great!” Eerie held tightly to Alex’s arm. “We will come.”

“There you go,” Alex said, nodding reluctantly. “What she said.”

“Very well,” Emily said, smiling. “Then you have tonight, and all day tomorrow, to do whatsoever your heart desires.”

“I wish,” Katya said, sighing. “Them, maybe.”

“I thought you would appreciate the time,” Emily said, looking at Katya with concern. “To come to terms with your feelings.”

“Okay, what do you mean by that?”

The color drained from Emily’s face.

“I assumed that Anastasia would have contacted you by now. You haven’t heard yet?”

“Heard what? I haven’t been in touch with Ana. None of my communication implants are working. What do I need to come to terms with?”

“Why, your brother,” Emily said, her eyes wet. “Timor. Oh, you poor thing. Are you truly unaware?”

Katya seized her by her arm.

“What happened to Timor?” She demanded. “Tell me.”

“Oh, Katya, I’m so sorry, I should have told you right away,” Emily said. “There was a bombing. Timor is dead. I’m told that he died a hero, if...oh, dear. I’m so sorry.”

Katya took a step back.

She turned to Alex and opened her mouth, her face white as chalk.

Then, to his amazement and horror, Katya wailed, pure and primal grief. She dropped to the ground, doubled over as if she meant to be sick, and screamed.

“Don’t just stand there,” Emily said, nudging Alex. She looked nearly as distressed as Katya. “Go and comfort your cousin!”

***

Marcus had finished digging out one of the roses showing signs of blackspot and was carefully inspecting the root bundle for fungus or rot when an almost imperceptible change to the atmosphere gave him pause. He sighed and looked about, then set aside the exhumed rose and peeled off his gardening gloves.

“I would have liked it to look better,” he said, surveying the acres of identical, vibrant rose bushes. “With more time, I could have made a better argument.”

“I don’t know, old friend,” John said, putting his hand on Marcus’s shoulder. “I think it is a triumph. Your garden is magnificent.”

Marcus looked out at the roses critically.

“I built all of this out of a memory of a nice day in the wine country and truckloads of mulch. I don’t know,” Marcus said. “It won’t be enough, will it?”

“It would take an ineffable expression of beauty to preclude the Assembly of the Church,” John said. “You’ve made a glorious statement, an unassailable retort to the coming ugliness. What more could anyone have asked?”

“Poppies in the fields of Flanders,” Marcus said softly. “The leaves changing in the woods around Bergen-Belsen. Do aesthetics really matter in the face of atrocity?”

“You brought light and life to the Outer Dark, if only for a moment, and infected a murdered reality with emotion,” John Parson said. “That should count for something, if there is any justice in the world.”

“I guess that’s the question, then. Is there any?”

“If we make it, then there is justice,” John said, shrugging. “Job wanted to plead his case to God, even when he knew he was doomed. Can we do any less?”

“If you have decided to convert, you’ve picked a moment…”

“I’ll leave matters of faith to you,” John said. “I believe in what I can see, and I’m only trying to save myself.”

“Is that all?”

John glanced at him.

“Not quite,” John said. “There’s Alice. I’ll need you to look after her, if this all goes as I expect. When the time comes…”

“Don’t talk like that.”

“I said, when the times comes, you’ll find her in the White Room. Okay?”

Marcus gave him a curious look.

“Are you sure?”

“Not at all, but if it happens, then we have to make the best of it. Trauma is often cathartic, Marcus. We both owe her an effort, at least, don’t you think?”

Marcus laughed.

“You’ve changed more than anyone, John.”

“That’s why I have to try and stop this. I have no interest in seeing our dreams supplanted by the whims of a lovestruck adolescent. I’ll destroy her – and myself – before I let that happen.”

“I don’t like it.”

“Neither do I, but our hands were forced. By Alice, first, and then by the Changeling. We have to face the world as it is.”

The artificial sun overhead wavered.

“Now?”

“Yes.”

Only the outline of the Church of Sleep manifested, but even that was an immediate and total blight on the garden. The roses withered and disappeared into rivers of black mist, Horrors drifted above them, screaming as slow lightning ravaged the sky, shattering even the memory of the sun.

Above it all was the outline of the Church, looming like the concertina walls of a concentration camp.

It would have been a vast underestimate to describe the Church flickering back out of existence as merciful.

“Now that I have seen that,” John Parson said, wiping the blood from his nose, “I might have to consider converting after all.”

Marcus picked himself up from the ground and sadly surveyed his ruined garden.

“Well, that was the only hand I had to play,” Marcus said, touching a brown leaf that disintegrated between his fingers. “Did it work?”

“You’ve bought us time,” John said. “That’s all I can ask.”

***

The texture was like cotton candy, sticky strands that melted to a syrup in her mouth, but the flavor was off, infused with just a hint of almond bitterness, in strange contrast to the sickly-sweet expectation. She felt as if she might gag and panicked when her throat refused to respond.

Relax, Lóa. I’m here, and there is nothing to worry about. The imperative came from on high, and she instantly obeyed. I regret that I did not arrive earlier, before the damage was done.

Lóa’s head cleared slowly, returning her to a world that consisted almost entirely of pain, and of an even more distressing numbness in other places. Her head felt like an overinflated balloon, while her fingers and toes were cold and ached, as if she had been out in the snow, barefoot and without gloves.

She remembered the interrogation chamber. She shuddered at the recollection of Renton Hall in her head, groping her cerebral cortex.

With a clarity that startled her, she remembered Katya Zharova beating her to death.

Not quite to death, the voice in her head amended. I felt your protocol blink out, and I ordered the cartel telepaths to locate you. It took longer than usual, thanks to the disturbance in the Ether, but they eventually succeeded. You were dying, with a fractured skull and bleeding in your brain.

Lóa did not need the reminder.

It was all perfectly clear, now.

I joined the channel the telepaths established and immediately began remote surgery, to save your life, and your brain from further harm.

Telekinetic brain surgery, Lóa thought. Across kilometers and dimensions.

The kind of thing that only her uncle was capable of, the sort of miracle that he regularly performed in his understated way.

The surgery was largely successful, Gaul Thule told her. Further procedures were required after I retrieved you. I am just completing the last of the work, reconstructing neural pathways and rerouting cognitive processes to account for the damage. It was extensive, I’m afraid, but I’ve done my best to compensate.

Brain damage. The thought was like a static discharge through her thoughts, upending everything.

Control yourself, Lóa, Gaul commanded. You have been very strong, but I need still greater strength from you. Our work is not yet finished, and we both have our roles to play in what is to come. You and Egill are the future of our cartel and our family. This trauma might have changed you, but I will not see you diminished. Do not be afraid.

His thoughts came with a soothing empathic wave that brushed aside the panic in her chest. She could feel him working in her head, a tingling sensation that migrated across her brain. She felt abstractly itchy, and not at all sure where she would scratch, if she could.

Lóa could not help but admire his talent. Who else could have performed such radical surgeries, conducting a telepathic conversation with his patient and managing their emotions all the while?

I’m less impressed, Gaul thought. I’ve done poorly by you, and poorly by your father, and the promise I made him. First Brennan dies, and then I nearly lose you. I apologize, Lóa, sincerely, for all the harm that has come to you, and to the rest of our family, because of my carelessness and preoccupation.

She wanted to argue, to tell him that he was wrong, that he was always and forever her favorite uncle, but she barely had the focus for the thought. Her brain vibrated with the insistence of a ringing phone on a glass table.

It’s worse than you know, Lóa. I’ve lost Gabriela.

She was surprised to hear it, and she was not surprised.

Her stepsister was a distant presence in her own life, as they had been raised almost entirely apart, except for the last year or two. Lóa was fond of Gabby, but then again, she was an empath, so there was no other possible way to feel.

They were not close.

Gabby played the admiring younger sister in conversation, but there was a wildness in her eyes that made Lóa wary.

She was not surprised to hear it, after all.

Perhaps you are not, but I am. We had an argument. She wanted to be given something to do, something in the war. I did not have the time or the patience to explain to her the probability that her involvement in the conflict, on any level, would potentially lead to the ruin of our family and our cartel, and I handled it poorly.

Lóa guessed that her Uncle had succumbed to Gabby’s wheedling, and let her have her way.

Gabby was nothing if not persuasive.

I agreed to let her join a routine patrol, well inside the pacified area of Central. I gave her an experienced unit and explicit orders not to do anything dangerous. We received an alarming telepathic transmission, and the unit dispatched to follow up on it found her patrol decimated. All dead, save Gabriela, who is missing.

Lóa felt something like an electrical shock pass through her brain, and everything went white for a moment.

I assume that she was taken prisoner by the Black Sun, but that is only an assumption. Another child that I have failed.

Lóa wanted to object, but it was an abstract desire. Objection required more coherent thought than she could currently imagine.

I failed Gabriela, and I failed Brennan, but I will not let you go, Lóa. I know there is no making up for mistakes, but I’ve done something by way of apology to you, for all my failings, to try and make it right.

There was an ineffable moment, a sensation beyond pain or fear, something she had no name or description for, yet was somehow intimately familiar with. It was a little like what she had imagined losing her virginity would be like, or maybe what it was like to be born. She was pierced by a terrible light, and that light tasted of dust on a hot afternoon on an endless and featureless road in the Moroccan desert. She could not remember how to breathe or swallow.

She was besieged by waves of memories, each flowing seamlessly into the last, without warning or sequence.

She was ten, and she was eating cake with blue frosting at her birthday party. Her mother smiled as she took a picture, but she looked very tired. It would be only three months later that the first diagnosis would arrive…

Lóa was seventeen, and doing a year of college at Princeton, just for the experience, since she could never attend the Academy. Her protocol is still very new, and occasionally it activates when she does not mean for it to do so, leading to the occasional awkward conversation about sprinting in the hallways…

Her brother Brennan has built a remote-control airplane, a model of the P-47 Thunderbolt, and they are about to fly it off one of the cliffs near the Reykjavik estate, a hundred meters above the angry black sea. She does not care about airplanes, but she likes the doubled symmetrical design of the Thunderbolt, the pleasingly bulbous lines of the fuselage. Her brother sets down the plane on a level piece of ground, and then frowns at it, and the plane leaps into the air, no controller required…

Her father has remarried, and she is meeting her new family at a formal dinner at Cebo in central Madrid. Her new mother is a woman with swarthy skin and braided brown hair that speaks a bit too quietly to hear across the table. She is only five years older than Lóa, and the way her father is always touching her, resting a hand on her leg or on her shoulder, makes Lóa unaccountably nervous. Her new sister has been seated between Brennan and herself, and Brennan is already completely charmed by the petite, brown-eyed girl. Lóa is less enamored, but still intrigued by the idea of having a sister, the possibility of having a built-in ally and confidant. Almost on cue, Gabriela catches her looking and smiles…

Lóa is in the interrogation room beneath the Thule estate in Central, lying on the floor with the metallic smell of blood in her nostrils. Her head feels like a broken egg, yolk leaking out onto the tile floor and dripping down the inset drain…

There. Done, Gaul thought. You can open your eyes, if you would like.

Lóa opened her eyes.

The room’s lights were dimmed, but for the first few minutes she could do nothing but blink and cry.

The room could have been any hospital room, anywhere, but it looked strange to her, like a video with bad fidelity. Everything was dim and crucial details were missing, her uncle little more than a sketch of a man bent over her bed with an uncomfortable expression.

Lóa wiggled her fingers and toes, and they did what she wanted.

The relief was enough to fill her eyes with water again.

She had a headache, and a strange sensation in the back of her head, as if an ice cube were slowly melting beside her quivering grey matter.

She thought about sitting, and her uncle hurried to assist her, propping her up with pillows.

She brushed his arm with her fingers. Gaul looked haggard and harried, his pink eyes moist and exhausted.

Thank you, Uncle, she thought. For saving me.

“I’d like to say I’ve done my best, but I don’t think that I have,” Gaul said, putting his hand over hers. “I’ve done all that I could, perhaps. I can make an educated guess as to what is coming for everyone, except my family. That does not excuse my negligence, however.”

Lóa wanted to argue. She opened her mouth, but when she tried to speak, nothing happened.

“I had to repurpose much of your language center,” Gaul said apologetically. “I’m confident that your mind will remap those processes, but it may take a few days. You’ll have to use telepathy to communicate in the meantime.”

I see. So, I can’t talk, she said, trying to maintain a façade of casual indifference. What else is broken?

“There was a great deal of damage,” Gaul said, pushing his glasses up on his nose. “You can expect synesthesia, migraines, and tinnitus. Your vision has degraded, and you’ll probably be sensitive to light and noise. There may be some insomnia, depression, or even seizures, but at least you’ll be in a position to cope with some of that.”

She looked at him, and was very conscious of the missing detail, the blurring where features should have been.

What do you mean?

“The implant,” Gaul said, as if he were apologizing for something. “You must be able to feel it. I’m always aware of my own.”

She felt a moment of confusion, then she was shocked into clarity.

The cold thing in her head, the foreign sensation at the back of her brain.

An implant.

“When I built the implant that I installed in Yaga, the captured witch, I used the opportunity to create another. An experimental model that was stolen from the laboratory shortly after I made it, which has recently come back into my possession. It was always meant to be yours, so you could remain your cousin’s peer,” Gaul explained. “It is like my own, and the one I implanted in Mitsuru Aoki, but I’ve improved the design since, with the benefit of experience and observation. The implant is a burden, and not always a tolerable one, but it was the only way to save your future. You will have access to the Etheric Network, and the ability to download protocols and use them at will, but that’s not the important part. Cognitive coprocessing, that’s the real advantage.”

Multiple streams of thought, she mused. Can I really…?

The Network, she wondered. Can I really…?

Is this it? Am I truly thinking more than one thing at the same time?

She felt the tug of the Network, Gaul gently guiding her perception. It was like a snag, like a stitch in her brain, like getting her hair caught in a zipper. She reached for it, as he instructed, and a moment later, she felt the connection.

For an instant, the Etheric Network was there, waiting at her beck and call, like an obedient dog, tail wagging and begging to please. She exulted in her new permissions, Administrative privileges granting her access to broad vistas of pure data, sparkling nexuses of languages and hidden depositories of protocols.

She reached for the Network like a greedy child in a candy store.

Gaul gently blocked her, minimizing the connection to a lingering presence in her mind, waiting in the wings of her brain for an opportune moment, beside her multiplication tables and rudimentary French.

“Your brain needs more time to heal,” he said, guiding her perceptions back to her battered body. “Don’t rush it.”

What will you do about Gabby?

I have telepaths scouring Central. I will find her, Gaul said, pursing his lips. I will bring her back home.

You can’t blame yourself for everything that happens to the family, Lóa thought. We are our own people, each of us, Uncle, and we do what we will, and if we suffer, then we have earned it.

You’re right.

She reached for her protocol. It was like finding her way in the dark in a familiar room.

She was relieved to find it, quietly humming in an obscure corner of her mind, like a sleeping beast.

Not that I’ll need a protocol any longer, she thought bitterly. If I can’t even walk.

“You’ll walk,” Gaul reassured her. “You might need some sort of assistance, but…”

Perhaps I will be able to limp faster, then, Lóa thought. I suppose that’s why you gave me the implant?

“You’re wrong,” Gaul said. “I intended the implant for you, even before you were injured. I need you to stay at parity with Egill as he expands his repertoire. I could not think of a better way than the same one I chose. I can’t leave the cartel to him alone, as you well know. He is in his element when it comes to the forceful application of power, but he will never understand restraint or subtlety. I need both of you, and I need you both to be stronger than I can be.”

Lóa felt a bit dizzy, as if her head were trying to detach, to slip from her neck and float away like a grotesque balloon.

“I would not entirely dismiss your protocol, despite your injury,” Gaul said, helping her to lay back down. “Your ability is not rapid movement, after all, it is a form of telepathic belief manipulation. You chose the aspect of speed because you wanted to be fast, Lóa, not because that was the only avenue of expression available to you. Perhaps you could make people believe something else, now.”

Like what?

Anything you want. That’s the idea, Gaul replied, putting his hand on her forehead. Sleep, Lóa, and heal. The future will require your very best self.

***

Hayley made faces at Alice, while Alice flipped nonchalantly through celebrity magazines that were months out of date. The young telepath waited until she could tolerate it no longer, which in Hayley’s case was roughly ten minutes.

“Well?” Hayley demanded. “What is the plan?”

“The station needs some time to get up and running,” Alice said, turning the glossy page. “They want twenty-four hours, which is about what Becca told me to expect.”

“I heard your suggestion that we go over there,” Min-jun said cautiously. “I think that’s a good idea. I did some classes on field maintenance back at the Academy. I might be able to help. I can at least run diagnostics.”

“Yeah, normally we would go,” Alice said. “Not this time, though. Not quite yet. We’ll give it, oh, I dunno. Eighteen hours?”

“Why?” Hayley demanded. “Why do we have to wait here? Is it about our Signatures? I heard you say something about that, but you don’t need to worry. Even I can mask those for a few hours, Ms. Gallow.”

“I know it,” Alice said. “But we can’t go right now. Alistair is there.”

Hayley and Min-jun exchanged a look, while Grigori muttered darkly.

“Alistair?” Hayley sounded dazed. “Why would he be there?”

“There’s only three fixed apport stations west of the Mississippi,” Alice said, turning the page. “The next closest is in LA. Alistair knows about the one here the same as I do. Alistair needs to be somewhere, just like us, and it sure as fuck isn’t Vegas. Where else would he be?”

The only sound in the storage unit was the crinkling of the magazine as Alice paged through it.

“You probably don’t know this yet, but if you stay in the field long enough, you’ll definitely learn that Field Supervisors are all petty tyrants, ruling over their shitty little kingdoms,” Alice said, grinning at them. “They spend their whole career out in the sticks somewhere, doing routine maintenance and supervising the transfer of basic supplies to Central. Food and medicine and fuel and shit, you know? Bulk cargo. They supervise the damn groceries.”

Alice laughed, and Xia reinforced it with a little nod.

“Makes ’em bitter,” Alice said. “Anytime something important happens, anytime somebody needs to do something meaningful with their shit, they take the opportunity to get all huffy. They make it a real pain in the ass, so they can feel important. I’ve worked in the field for…” Alice’s expression clouded over. “A long time,” she finished, with a weak grin. “Never had a Field Supervisor say that he would ‘love’ to help me. Never had one take anything less than a direct order, and I’ve never heard one apologize for anything.”

She finished the magazine and tossed it on the floor.

“Alistair probably went straight there, but now he’s stuck, the same as us, until the station gets back online,” Alice said. “I don’t really mind. I was worried he would slip away in the confusion. I’m glad we get another shot at him.”

“Why wait?” Grigori asked. “What if the station repairs take less time than expected?”

“They might,” Alice said. “Becca said they gotta do a couple hours of alignment with the beacon back at Central, though, and she’ll know once they start pinging them. We’ll have some warning. If Central is right, then they won’t be getting it up and running till tomorrow at the earliest. So, we will give them, say, eighteen hours. Long enough that they think we bought it, not so long that they can slip away.”

“We are going to fight the Anathema again,” Min-jun said. “So soon.”

“Yeah,” Alice said. “That a problem?”

“Not at all,” Min-jun said. “We owe them, I think, for Michael and Karim.”

“And Chike,” Hayley said. “Should we go check on him? He’s just at a regular old hospital, you know. If Alistair finds out where he is…”

“Good point,” Alice said. “Since it was your idea, you can go check on him. Take Grigori with you, just in case.”

“Can I go?” Min-jun asked. “I’d rather not spend another minute here, if it’s all the same to you, Ms. Gallow.”

“It’s not the same, and you can’t go, but you’re right about this place,” Alice said, grabbing her phone. “I think it’s time we relocate.”

“To where?” Hayley asked. “I thought you need the hard connection here.”

“We did, but we’ve got a backup server online,” Alice said. “That’s enough to serve as a basic communications relay. We don’t need to stay.”

“You are going to the other safehouse, aren’t you?” Hayley looked as if she might cry. “You’re going to the Strip.”

“And you are going to the hospital.”

“This is bullying.”

“Maybe,” Alice said. “Glad we had this chat.”

Five

Day One

“…if we don’t move soon, we’ll have to spend the night. Maybe we can lift him?”

“We can ask him. He’s already awake. It’ll be just a few minutes, while he collects himself.”

“You’ve seen it that precisely? To the minute?”

“I perceive the necessary amount of detail. The situation is delicate, and timing is crucial – not to mention the two of you are my saviors – so I know quite a lot about what is going to happen.”

“That’s good to hear. Do we make it?”

“There are other possibilities, but I’m confident in our chances tonight. It would be better if we were to leave, but only if we can make it all the way back to your camp. If not, then I think it is better to stay. As for the morning, and everything after, it is hard to say. There are too many competing agendas for any kind of certainty.”

“You don’t know anything for sure, then?”

“No one ever does, Daniel. Even precogs working in a pool.”

“What kind of opposition are we going to face? Do we just sneak out of here, or…?”

“I’m not certain as to why, or whom, but someone will definitely try to stop us from escaping. The probability of this being a loud affair is overwhelming.”

“Oh, good. More shooting.”

“A great deal, I think, and worse.”

“Worse than shooting?”

“Yes.”

“What does that mean?”

“A bullet is quick and clean. A knife, on the other hand…”

“I told you, I can make it neat. I wanted those bastards who kidnapped you to die ugly. Trust me. When I want to, I can be a ghost.”

“I believe you, but I don’t think that’s how it works, this time.”

Simeon opened his eyes, but his vision was a blurry mess. There was a vaguely feminine shape crouched beside him, and another shape standing further back, but their features and proportions were distorted like the reflection in a fun-house mirror.

“Oh, fuck, my head,” Simeon groaned, even the faint remnants of his migraine making his head feel like a box of broken dishes. “Are we still…?”

“They have not found us yet,” the nearer shape said, using Chandi Tuesday’s voice. “Here. You’ll want some water.”

As she helped him into a sitting position, his vision slowly resolved, enough that he could make out her face. She held a bottle of water to his lips, and then waited patiently while he sputtered and coughed. He could not see Daniel clearly, but it was easy to imagine the superior expression on his face as he watched.

“Are you going to live, Simeon?”

Simeon managed to keep a sip of water down, and then another. He squinted at Daniel, straining as if his blurry face were distant.

“I think so,” he said, taking the bottle from Chandi. “How long…?”

“All afternoon,” Daniel said. “You took this one hard.”

“We still have time, then. We aren’t due back till the morning.” Simeon took a final sip and then dumped the bottle on his head, turning his face up so the water splashed across it. “That’s good.”

“We either need to move or bed down,” Daniel said, creeping over to look out a gap in one of the boarded windows. “It will be dark in a few minutes.”

“I’m not ready, but I think I can pull it together,” Simeon said, wiping water from his eyes. “Good thing we don’t have far to go.”

Chandi cleared her throat.

“Actually, Mr. Yurchenko…”

“Simeon, please, Miss Tuesday.”

“Chandi, then. I think we will have to go much further than you expect, Simeon. We might want to spend the night here, and leave early tomorrow, because making it halfway home would be a disaster.”

***

Hayley and Grigori were the first to arrive at the hospital, and there was nearly an incident when she opened the door to Chike’s room and discovered a snarling black Weir on the other side. Even Anastasia’s diplomatic skills were put to the test when they found her, along with a well-dressed vampire, looming above their comrade’s hospital bed.

After Chike reassured them, Hayley made a phone call.

The hospital room was uncomfortably quiet for nearly fifteen minutes, before the Chief Auditor finally arrived, sweaty and in a foul mood, as her ride-share had a broken air conditioner.

An explanation of the situation, and then a sales pitch from the Mistress of the Black Sun, did nothing to improve her disposition.

“I’m not sure about this,” Alice said, tugging at her bottom lip. “We are supposed to be neutral.”

“There’s nothing in the Auditor’s charter that forbids cooperation with cartel forces,” Anastasia said. “Particularly in the face of an existential crisis for all of Central. There are precedents, as I’m sure you are aware, Chief Auditor.”

“You’ve read the charter?” Alice looked amazed. “The whole thing?”

“Of course I have,” Anastasia said. “It’s not even thirty pages.”

“You have read the charter, too, right?” Min-jun asked apprehensively. “Haven’t you, Miss Gallow?”

“Shut up, Min-jun,” Alice said. “I know what’s in there.”

“You haven’t read it, then,” Hayley said. “That’s great.”

“I’ve been an Auditor longer than you’ve been alive, girl,” Alice snapped. “Maybe longer. Who knows?”

“My offer is simple, and without strings or caveats. We pool our resources and return to Central. We discipline anyone who is acting unlawfully or harming civilians…”

“That’s our job,” Alice grumbled. “The Hegemony won’t like Black Sun troops playing cop.”

“You have four Auditors,” Anastasia pointed out. “I have an army, and scout forces already operating within Central, along with caches of supplies secreted about Central for just such an occasion. We have a local facility that will be capable of a fixed apport in the near future. I also have a vampire, a trio of maids, and my mother’s umbrella, should it come to that.”

“I could use an army,” Alice admitted, giving Mai a speculative look. “Not sure about a maid.”

“Then you’ve never met a real lady’s maid,” Anastasia said. “Never underestimate a woman who can clean and cook in a spotless black dress, without the need for so much as an apron.”

Kisma and Thira curtseyed politely as Alice walked by them, shaking her head.

“I do like the vampire,” Alice said, approaching Lord Gao with a huge grin. “What was your name again?”

Lord Gao’s eyes flicked over to Anastasia.

The nod she gave in return was so minute as to be imperceptible.

“I am Lord Bohai Gao, a servant of the Lady Martynova, and a member of the Black Sun Cartel,” the vampire said softly. “We have met on three past occasions, but I have been made aware of your difficulties in that regard. I do not expect that you would remember me.”

“Good, ’cause I don’t,” Alice said. “I’m not a big fan of vampires, but for you, I might make an exception. I bet that you and I dance before this is all over, big guy.”

“I’m happy to provide whatever you may require,” the vampire said humbly. “As long as my Mistress decrees it.”

“Good enough for me,” Alice said. “We’re in, Anastasia. The Auditors will offer you support and legal sanction, as long as you agree to limit yourself to peacekeeping.”

“I’m afraid I cannot make that promise,” Anastasia said gravely. “How about this one instead, Chief Auditor? I promise not to needlessly kill or otherwise inconvenience anyone aside from the conspirators in my father and brother’s deaths, and the entirety of the Thule Cartel.”

Alice laughed.

“Sorry! I don’t mean to laugh. It’s just funny to me. You always seemed like you had it so together, it drove Rebecca crazy. You’re aiming for Gaul, then?”

“Yes, of course,” Anastasia said. “His whole family.”

“Nothing less than everything,” Alice said, sounding impressed. “Are you that upset, or are you just trying to make a point?”

“My grief is boundless, I assure you,” Anastasia said. “Fortunately for Central, my anger, at very least, is restrained.”

Alice thought it over.

“Okay, fine,” Alice said. “Let’s get out of here.”

“A short interval of time is required for my servants to finish the assembly of a temporary apport station. A day, perhaps a little more.”

“You can do it that fast?” Hayley’s eyes were wide. “How?”

“We have already located the needed supplies, and the required staff is in route,” Mai said, consulting her phone. “The apport will be ready in roughly thirty hours, Mistress, assuming none of the flights are delayed.”

“Holy shit!” Hayley covered her mouth. “How is that even possible?”

“We are not building it from scratch, Miss Weathers,” Mai explained. “The sensitive components were stripped from another apport station and are being shipped to Las Vegas.”

“Lady Martynova, you must be aware that constructing unregistered apport points violates the Agreement.” Min-jun glanced around the room in confusion. “You must know that.”

“Yes,” Anastasia said. “I know.”

“But…we are Auditors!” Min-jun looked positively horrified. “Why would you admit such a thing to us?”

“My father is dead,” Anastasia said flatly. “What do I care for the Agreement? If the Assembly ever meets again, they can debate sanctions against the Black Sun. The Director can even call for an Audit, if she feels it merited. I am willing to risk that, and so much more, Auditor.”

Min-jun looked over at Alice for support. She just kept smiling.

“If it means avenging my father’s death, I will see this world reduced to ash,” Anastasia stated. “There is no length that I’m not willing to go to. It is for the best that you understand this.”

“Oh, we understand each other, Anastasia,” Alice said, grinning as she pushed Min-jun to the side. “Maybe for the first time.”

“You should not be so familiar with Lady Martynova, Chief Auditor,” Lord Gao said. “She is the head of the Black Sun and should be addressed according to her station.”

“Sure, big guy,” Alice said. “Whatever you say.”

The vampire met the Auditors stare with a placid expression.

“A couple nights in Vegas, then?” Alice smirked. “I can think of worse ways to spend my time. We’ve got a safe house by the airport, Anastasia. It’s a bit crude, and not that big, but if you need somewhere to lay up until morning, then…”

“We could do that,” Anastasia said, stifling a yawn. “Alternatively, I happen to have a relationship with a first-class hotel not too terribly far from here and have already reserved a number of exquisitely appointed suites.”

“Oh God,” Hayley said. “Yes, please.”

“Assuming the Chief Auditor approves, of course,” Anastasia said. “Perhaps you prefer more austere surroundings, Ms. Gallow? Something lacking in air conditioning and internal plumbing, perhaps?”

Alice laughed.

“I think we’ll take you up on the offer,” Alice said, putting her arms around Hayley and Min-jun’s shoulders. “Central is a mess, and it’s hot as hell. Given the circumstances, I’d prefer it to be somewhere with a bar.”

***

Maxim’s hands would not stop shaking.

The grip of his pistol was covered in a slick sheen of perspiration, Maxim’s hand straying to the gun, his unconscious mind reaching for an easy solution each time his thoughts drifted. His legs ached and his feet were sore, but Maxim could only lie down for bare moments before his anxious dithering had him back on his feet, pacing beside the camp stove and portable battery that marked the rough midpoint of their camp.

Gabby was curled up beneath his jacket on the other side of the camp, her sweater serving as a pillow. Her breathing was regular, and her eyes were closed, but Maxim could not make himself believe that she was asleep.

They had made great progress in the journey across Central, travelling without incident, guided by Gabby around patrols and minefields.

The woods above the Academy had been a popular destination for refugees and surviving Black Sun and North Cartel personnel, so the Thule Cartel blanketed the area with Operators and armed patrols. Their undetected progress was aided by the low caliber of the troops the overstretched Thule Cartel fielded, their combat corps required elsewhere in Central, but Maxim would have had a much more difficult time without Gabby’s assistance.

They kept moving until it was nearly dark, and then made camp in the wooded foothills adjacent to the Academy, deep among the old-growth groves and their profusion of broad-leafed ferns, the trees blocking the sunset and any view of Central, save for the plumes of brown smoke that dirtied the evening sky.

Maxim would not risk a fire, so they ate rehydrated field rations, a depressing slurry of processed meat and mashed potatoes, dotted with bits of carrots and peas, washed down with plastic-tasting water from Maxim’s canteen. Neither said much as the evening deepened, but Gabby insisted on helping with the various camp and meal tasks, and more than once, while cleaning dishes or arranging supplies, their hands brushed.

She lay down before sunset and fell asleep quickly, to all appearances, leaving Maxim to worry and pace the grove, leaving behind faint footsteps in the decaying leaves and soft loam between the tree roots. He had reluctantly loaned her his jacket to ward off the chill, and as the sun disappeared behind the hills, he started to shiver whenever he stopped pacing.

Gabriela Estanza-Thule, Maxim thought, his palm resting on the butt of his pistol. The telepathic briefing implanted before he apported to Central started to unreel in his brain automatically.

Adopted into the Thule family as a niece of Gaul and sister to Lóa, and an empath to boot. Her head was earmarked for the grave of Josef Martynova. She was one of the people he was meant to kill. Her death would be an immediate feather in his cap, and the first step toward winning the hand of Anastasia Martynova.

Which begged the question as to why he had taken her prisoner.

Assuming he was still in control of the situation, Maxim thought warily. Was Gabby really his prisoner? Could an empath even be taken prisoner, he wondered, unless they agreed to it? How could he be sure that they were performing his mission, and not a covert intention of her own?

They were headed straight for the Thule Cartel, but that would have been true regardless of whose purpose they were serving. Maxim felt clear-headed, but then again, how else would a clever empath have him feel?

Gabby was certainly clever. Was she clever enough to deceive him and Delphi?

Maxim licked his lips, his mouth deathly dry.

Was he in control of his actions? Or was she?

There was little need to keep her, the more Maxim thought about it. She had been helpful, assisting him in avoiding patrols and minefields, but he could have managed without that help, and was past the worst of that sort of hazard, in any case. She moved acceptably and without complaint, but he would have been faster and stealthier without the company. Her value as a guide was limited, her value as a hostage was negligible.

An interrogation might have been worthwhile, but Maxim did not have the stomach for it. That was Gabby’s eventual fate, though, if he brought her to the Black Sun intact. There was no avoiding it.

Her name was Gabriela. When had he started calling her Gabby?

No, that was wrong, Maxim reminded himself. Only one of her names mattered to him.

Thule.

The Mistress of Black Sun had asked for heads, not prisoners.

For what felt like the thousandth time, Maxim put his hand on his gun. He felt as if the grip should have been worn smooth by the friction of compulsive movement.

If he brought her head back with him, that would be a credit to him in a most important competition. Her death alone was not enough to put him by Anastasia’s side, at the head of the Black Sun, but Maxim felt he could safely assume that she would be grateful. If he brought Gabby – Gabriela – back as a prisoner, or a hostage, the reaction could be considerably worse. Arriving at muster with an empath in tow, hands unbound, would be badly misunderstood. The rest of the cartel would at least be suspicious that he had been compromised.

Could he truly argue with such suspicions, he wondered? Delphi tried to reassure him, but Delphi could do very little to protect him from a talented empath.

Maxim slid his gun out of the holster, moving with agonizing slowness, trying not to brush the nylon sling or rustle his clothes.

Had he already been compromised?

This could have been the Thule plan all along, Maxim reasoned. They could have sent out the promising young empath with instructions to subvert Black Sun Operators – or him specifically, depending on what manner of foreknowledge their precognitive pool had generated. Or, if that was a stretch, it was still possible that the Thule girl was improvising, making the best of a bad situation by trying to flip the agent who had captured her.

Stranger things had happened, Maxim thought, gently releasing the safety.

He found himself studying her head, the wild confusion of her chestnut hair and the rounded lines of her face, the spray of dark freckles that dusted her cheeks, a white line of scar tissue that created a slight notch in her chin.

She was an object, Maxim told himself, like a bearskin rug or a pinned butterfly, a remnant of something that had once lived, a valuable and rare artifact, and not part of a living, breathing human.

He chambered a round, wincing at the metallic click as the bullet found its place.

Gabriela Estanza-Thule was a dead woman, Maxim told himself. She had been doomed the moment her uncle had embarked on his insane war against the Martynova family.

She was already dead, Maxim thought, putting the pistol to her head. A bullet would not change a thing.

There was nothing to regret and no decision to make. Maxim was simply the consequence of her family’s actions. If Gabby – Gabriela – had no say in her role, then neither did Maxim. They were pieces in a larger game, fulfilling their roles to the best of their ability. Neither of them could change a thing about the situation. They had been heading inexorably toward their destinies for years.

Gabby toward death. Maxim toward putting a bullet in her head.

His finger tightened around the trigger.

Gabby’s eyes fluttered, and then opened.

She started to smile at him, and then noticed the gun, her eyes widening in concern.

“You really don’t want to do that,” Gabby said. “Do you?”

“This is not about what I want,” Maxim said, almost shouting. “I have orders.”

“I surrendered and cooperated,” Gabby said. “If your orders are to kill me anyway, then wouldn’t you say your orders are wrong?”

“That doesn’t matter,” Maxim said, wondering why he had not yet pulled the trigger. “I have pledged my loyalty. This is duty.”

“You are a good man, Maxim,” Gabby said, with uncanny assurance. “I can tell.”

“Don’t say that,” Maxim said, his voice hoarse and strained. “You don’t know me.”

“I know you enough to trust you,” Gabby said, rolling onto her side, so the muzzle of his gun brushed against her hair. “I know that you’ll do the right thing.”

Maxim held his pose until his arm shook and his finger ached, long after she had returned to what appeared to be untroubled sleep. He shook his head, smacked himself in the cheek, held his breath until his chest ached.

He holstered the gun, his shoulders slumped in defeat.

Ignoring practice and common sense, Maxim walked hurriedly away from their camp, not even bothering to gather his kit. The faint lights of Central were reflected by the constant cloud cover, providing a weak radiance that disappeared in the heavier foliage. Maxim tripped over tree roots and changes in the terrain, branches scratching his face and arms as he stumbled through the near-dark.

It was difficult to tell if he was making progress.

Was he running away? Had he been defeated?

The trees cleared and he reoriented himself by the distant radiance of Central. Maxim was not sure if he had moved away from the camp, or simply wandered in circles around it.

He plunged back into the woods, to be tripped and battered again in the evening gloom. He pushed forward until his foot caught in what was probably a large root that had burst from the ground, turning his ankle and falling to his hands and knees.

Maxim shouted and pounded the ground with his fists, pine needles poking his skin and lodging in his sleeves. The damp chill common to Central was at its worst, and without his jacket, Maxim shivered uncontrollably, his fatigues soaked through with dew.

“Damn it,” Maxim whispered. “What is happening?”

The dusk and the forest had no answers for him. Maxim’s thoughts went around in enraged circles.

He repeatedly visualized himself returning to the camp, putting the gun to the young woman’s head, and pulling the trigger. He imagined the crack of the discharge and the smells of cordite, scorched flesh, and burning hair, the splatter of fluids on the ground behind her body.

He tried to convince himself that it was something he wanted to do.

He was hardly aware of the disappearance of the last of the light, or the bruises and dirt on his hands, or the tremble of his body in the wet air.

His mind revolved like the Earth around the Sun, ceaseless and pointless circles.

Delphi howled, proximity alarms sounding in his mind.

Maxim drew his pistol and spun about, the boxy Glock hovering near Gabby’s forehead for the second time in an hour. She was wrapped in his jacket, her hair wild and her eyes filled with gentle calm. She looked right past the gun, as if it were inconsequential, and at him instead.

“Maxim? What are you doing out here?” Gabby took a step toward him, and he had to pull the gun back to avoid pressing it against her face. “What’s happening?”

She reached for him, and then pulled back when he recoiled from her touch. The chatter of his teeth and the percussion of his pulse washed away all other sound.

“Are you okay?” Gabby asked, pulling his jacket tighter around her. “It’s cold, Maxim. Why are you out here in the woods? Isn’t it dangerous to be in the open?”

“You are more dangerous than anything out here!” Maxim shouted, his face twisted into a snarl. “What are you doing to me?”

“I’m trying to survive,” Gabby said. “Just like you.”

Maxim put the gun against her head.

“What the fuck are you doing to me?”

“I’m not doing anything on purpose,” Gabby said serenely. “I’m an empath, Maxim. If I’m having an effect on you, then that’s to be expected.”

“You are manipulating me,” Maxim said darkly, his face reddening. “You are tampering with my emotions!”

“You are angry and afraid,” Gabby said sympathetically. “If I was using my protocol to control your emotions, why would I let you feel that way?”

“You’re lying! You must be. Why would I take you prisoner? It makes no sense for my mission. You made me do it.”

“You think I stopped you from killing me, but that’s not the way I see it,” Gabby said. “I don’t feel any desire to kill inside of you. I didn’t make you spare me. You did that all on your own.”

“You are Thule, by family and cartel! I came here to kill anyone with that name, or that allegiance.”

“That is what you were ordered to do, Maxim. Being told to kill and wanting to do so are very different things. My cousin Benji is eight, he’s just a little boy. Would you have killed him, if he was the first of us you met? I feel reluctance and confusion in you, not…”

“That confusion is you!” Maxim snapped. “You are the source of…”

“You are a telepath, aren’t you?”

“A combat telepath,” Maxim answered. “Not the sort who reads minds.”

“Can Delphi do a threat assessment for you, Maxim?”

“Yes,” Maxim admitted. “Your shielding, though, is too much for…”

Maxim flinched, hearing his private name for his protocol said by another. Gabby paid him no mind, holding up her hand and closing her eyes.

Maxim’s finger tightened around the trigger as Delphi roared to life, reinforcing defenses and analyzing target information and surrounding activity. He watched for the telltale signs of Etheric activity in her signature, ready to put a bullet in her brain before she could do him further harm, but instead of a surge of activity, the meters tracking Gabby’s protocol went flat.

“My shields are down,” Gabby said, opening her eyes and smiling. “I am entirely defenseless. I submit willingly to any probe or test. Have Delphi verify my intentions.”

“Delphi can’t…”

“She can’t tell you what I’m thinking, but she can tell you whether I’m a threat,” Gabby said calmly. “Delphi is a she, isn’t she?”

Delphi was, Maxim admitted internally, in the abstract way that a ship is female.

He still hated the way it sounded, coming from Gabby.

Delphi, go, he thought. Threat assessment, full spectrum.

Gabby winced as Delphi’s probes bulldozed into her mind. Maxim knew the process could have been gentler, but he made no attempt to blunt the impact. He did not feel any sort of charity toward the girl. His finger wrapped so tightly around the trigger that Maxim was privately amazed the gun had not yet gone off.

They stood there motionless, Gabby with her eyes closed while Maxim held a gun to her head and shivered. Invisible and omnipresent, Delphi ransacked Gabby’s mind for malice or deception, bowling everything over in a hunt for bad intentions.

The probe dissipated. The math took a fraction of a second.

No threat detected, Delphi informed him. Target does not register as hostile.

What are her intentions?

Survival and personal advantage.

Nothing beyond that?

No threat detected.

Confirm, Maxim demanded. Be certain.

Delphi went back to work. Gabby groaned just slightly.

The response came even faster.

Confirmed. No threat detected.

Delphi…are you sure? Could she be tampering with the results? Or hiding something?

Stated hypotheticals are defined as very unlikely.

Gabby smiled wearily and waited, blood dripping from one nostril.

Maxim holstered his gun without any awareness of having decided to do so. The red mark on her forehead where the pistol had pressed against her skin made him feel intensely guilty.

“It’s cold, and it’s still dark,” Gabby said, taking his hand. “Won’t you come back to the camp?”

***

Harbin was suffering under the third day of a cold snap that only added to Svetlana’s depression. She was tired of waking to find the windows coated with frost, and she was tired of breathing the heated air inside the hotel, which dried her sinuses and gave her headaches.

Still, she did what she was told, because that was what she did.

Svetlana hardly knew what to do with herself when she had no external direction. She spoke little Mandarin and was not a fan of the local cuisine, but after four meals from room service in a row, she was starting to feel a little desperate.

She wished that Anastasia had left her more to do, or at least something else to do.

The effort of bringing in the endless family and dignitaries for Anastasia’s debut had exhausted Svetlana, and then the further strain of the bombing and the disruption of the Ether left her bedridden and unable to travel. She had been left behind at the Marriot across the river in Harbin to recuperate, with no more responsibility than to supervise the cleaning and to see to it that the bodies made it back to Moscow, and from there to the various family estates where the burials would take place.

Anastasia had taken her personal maids with her, but she left behind the family’s platoon of black-clad servants, who required no direction or intervention on her part, seeking her approval only after plans had been formulated, and relegating her to little more than an observer with the utmost politeness.

Svetlana needed the rest, but she was not sure she appreciated it.

She might have felt better if she could have kept busier.

At the very least, she insisted on having a personal role in the care of the deceased, if only to review and approve each aspect of the arrangements.

Josef had been flown out yesterday, and Pavel that morning, but there were so many more.

Some of them were destined for the memorial grounds that the Black Sun maintained in St. Petersburg, while others were shipped to the cartel crematorium in Hong Kong, but almost half the dead were to be transported to familial burial grounds, which meant coordinating international shipping for twenty bodies.

A select few were to be interred in Central, a situation that presented its own complications. For now, those bodies were collected in a private freezer requisitioned from a shipping company, waiting for an apport.

Svetlana suspected that it might be a while.

That afternoon and evening had been spent dealing with three grief-stricken families and the logistics of their bereavement, which Anastasia was funding. All but the last of them were nice enough – and even the final couple were hardly mean, just very drunk and aimlessly angry – but Svetlana skipped dinner, and instead went straight to her room to lie down.

She felt weak and a bit slow, and since the bombing, what little sleep she had gotten was plagued with nightmares.

Despite her weariness, Svetlana had made no attempt to sleep. She ran a bath, adding a bath-bomb that smelled of rose and hibiscus, and then soaked for a half-hour, until the tightness in calves and the balls of her feet dissipated somewhat. She dried, dressed, and then propped herself up in bed with all three novels she was currently reading.

She was only really enjoying one of them, but Svetlana had a firm policy of finishing any book that she started, so she had been bringing the other two with her everywhere she went for months without making any real progress with either.

She glanced at the room service menu, and as she suspected, there was nothing on it that she wanted.

Svetlana fixed her hair, put on stockings, a heavy woolen skirt, and a matching blue sweater, and then did her makeup. She put on her warmest boots at the door and added a scarf and sunglasses.

The elevator was fast and nearly silent.

The clerk at the lobby asked after her politely, using the last name she used to check in. Svetlana had nearly forgotten it and felt like her response was rushed and unnatural.

She barely noticed the pair of security guards who followed her out the door, staying at a discreet distance while she waited for the car.

A polished Buick arrived promptly. One of the guards hurried to open the door for her, and Svetlana slipped inside, feeling a bit guilty for not offering some sort of tip, though she knew how ridiculous that thought was.

“Good afternoon, Miss,” the driver said, lowering his sunglasses so she could see his eyes in the rearview mirror, which were brown as dirt and cold as the wind blowing from the north. “Where can I take you?”

“I want to get something to eat,” Svetlana said, doing her best to affect the practiced boredom that Anastasia radiated. “Somewhere that serves Russian food, please.”

The driver nodded and piloted the car out onto the crowded road.

Svetlana closed her eyes, certain that she would not sleep.

The driver had to shake her awake at their destination, a small establishment in a fashionable area of town, with lots of windows and broad wooden tables that looked like great butcher’s blocks. Svetlana thanked the driver, checked her makeup in her compact, and then walked into the restaurant.

She did not even know the name of the place, and she had no memory of the driver calling ahead, but staff held the door for her on arrival, and the manager waited at the front to whisk her immediately to a private table in the quietest corner of the restaurant, complete with flowers in a vase and a small candle beside the cutlery.

A samovar of hot tea arrived before she could consult the menu, and the waiter was quite handsome, with an easy smile and tousled brown hair and a charming habit of blushing when she looked at him. The tables on either side remained empty, but on the other side of the dining room a pair of businessmen were deep in conversation, while her guards sat nearby at a table laid with black bread and onions and little glasses of clear spirits.

They spoke occasionally into their earpieces, and studiously avoided looking in her direction.

Svetlana entertained the idea of skipping directly to the honey cake that she truly wanted, before settling on solyanka and dumplings, counting on the familiarity of the food to create an appetite that she did not feel.

She sipped her tea and settled back in her chair.

The diners around her exchanged whispers, wondering who she was, to merit leaving a quarter of the restaurant empty during a busy hour, and Svetlana enjoyed that, just a little. She left her sunglasses on, because that felt like the right thing to do, until she noticed her bodyguards had done the same thing at their table.

She folded the glasses and returned them to her purse, feeling a bit ashamed of herself.

The gossip quieted, but it continued as she finished her tea.

The waiter brought her soup, brushing her hand as he refilled her teacup, which she did not mind. He assured her that the dumplings would quickly follow in his bashful way, and then returned to the kitchen, giving her a good look at his tight pants, which she also did not mind.

She poked at a chunk of pickled cucumber with her spoon and wondered if this was what it felt like to be Anastasia.

Svetlana thought it over while she waited for the soup to cool, deciding that it was unlikely. Anastasia was probably no more conscious of the wealth and power of her surroundings than a fish was of the sea in which it swam, or a bird the sky in which it flew.

Svetlana noticed and enjoyed privilege because it was unfamiliar.

She was accustomed to luxury, regularly exposed to it when she accompanied her Mistress to assignations and soirees. She had three closets of tailored dresses that she could never have afforded, and jewelry that she was afraid to wear except at Anastasia’s insistence. She had eaten at fine restaurants and danced with gentlemen and stood in state beside Anastasia in ballrooms and executive offices and hotel suites across the world.

Svetlana felt as though she had worn shoes a little too small for her feet, though the sizing was, of course, perfect. The meal felt as if she had snuck into a private party, only to find herself alone in a room full of strangers. She was a servant through and through, Svetlana thought, and would have felt more comfortable in the kitchen than in the dining room.

She felt tired all over again and started to wish she had just stayed in her room.

Svetlana raised her hand to catch the waiter’s attention, intending to ask for coffee.

He noticed and hurried over, smiling at her, so she did not notice the commotion at the door at first. She became aware of it only after she noticed her security detail rise, one of them talking rapidly into his earpiece, while the other pulled a gun.

The chatter in the restaurant was replaced by panic.

The sound of breaking glass was followed by a body crashing into a nearby table, breaking the legs and scattering the crockery. Svetlana backed away, startled to see the manager lying in the ruins of the table and settings, his spine bent the wrong way. He flailed about like he was drowning, pink bubbles forming at his lips.

The screaming started.

Patrons made for the door, or ran toward the back, where the staff fled. People were tangled in the aisles between tables, tripping over each other and getting in shoving matches at the doors. Both of her guards were on their feet, guns drawn, forcing a path through the crowd to where she cowered against the wall, entirely unsure what she was supposed to do.

There was further commotion at the front of the restaurant, then more crashing and screaming.

Another person went flying, crashing into one of the restaurant’s mirrored walls, dusting the crowd with broken glass.

There was a gunshot, deafeningly loud in the restaurant, and the screams increased in volume and shrillness. Svetlana covered her ears and sank to the ground, hiding below the table. Around the edges of the crisp white tablecloth, she could see one of her security guards taking aim at someone she could not see.

He got off three shots before his hand was impaled by a bolt of lightning that seemed to erupt from the floor beneath him. He screamed and dropped the gun. A current of electricity coursed through his body, making him convulse, until steam started to rise from the top of his head. He groaned and then collapsed on a table, tipping it as he fell.

The sounds of confusion and terror were overwhelming. Svetlana clamped her hands over her ears as hard as she could and shut her eyes.

She recognized the activation of an Isolation Field by the unique sense of pressure they always evoked, but she kept her head down and her eyes closed.

She counted to thirty, waiting until her heart had slowed to something less than a furious rate, then cautiously opened her eyes and uncovered her ears.

The restaurant was somehow perfectly quiet. A man she had never met before stood beside her table, looking at her in a way that felt very familiar, a combination of contempt and pity that she often saw in the eyes of those who interacted with her.

“Who are you?” Svetlana asked, reverting to Russian in her fear. “What do you want?”

“My name is Egill Johannsson, of the Thule Cartel,” the man replied, in English. “I’ve come here to kill you.”

She burst into tears, and he looked uncomfortable.

“Why? I don’t matter, and I’ve never hurt anyone.”

“It isn’t like that,” Egill said. “It is purely a practical concern. I require your talents.”

“Then let me help you, instead,” Svetlana begged. “I’ll take you wherever you want to go, just please don’t kill me.”

“I can’t do that,” Egill said. “I need your protocol for myself, and there’s only one way I can get it.”

Svetlana sobbed, and Egill looked around rather desperately, as if he expected some sort of help in dealing with the crying woman.

“It’s nothing personal,” he assured her. “You must have known when you joined the Black Sun…”

“Please, I don’t want to die,” Svetlana said. “Please don’t hurt me.”

“It won’t hurt,” Egill said. “I promise.”

She looked around the restaurant and realized that everyone inside of it was dead, steaming corpses stacked atop each other and strewn across the restaurant floor. Both of her guards and the handsome waiter were among the bodies.

She screamed, and Egill grimaced.

“Is that…?” Svetlana covered her mouth. “Is that what you want to do to me?”

“I will make it completely painless,” Egill assured her. “You won’t suffer at all.”

“Why is this happening? I’m no one! I just do transportation.”

“It’s bad luck, that’s all. Cartel business.”

“Please, you don’t have to…”

“It has to be done. I wouldn’t do it, otherwise.”

Svetlana wept bitterly.

“Please don’t!”

Egill swore and ran his fingers through his hair.

“I can’t do anything about it,” he said. “I’m sorry.”

“I don’t want to die!” Svetlana backed away from him. “Isn’t there something…?”

“There’s nothing,” Egill said, reaching for her. “If you could just please…”

He slipped on the waiter’s body, and Svetlana leapt past him, heading for the door.

Egill had told the truth, at least.

She did not feel the bolt of lightning that burst from the ground to strike her. There was no pain or heat, no sense of shock or fear. She felt nothing at all as she crumpled, folding in on herself as the lights in the room dimmed.

Her heartbeat was very loud, and then it diminished, like a song on the radio fading to static as the signal was lost.

Egill touched Svetlana on the back of her neck. He then laid her out flat on the ground, arranging her head and arms in a comfortable position.

“Well,” he said, straightening his jacket, “that was horrible.”

***

She led him back to the camp, his arm tucked into hers, Maxim stumbling like a drunkard and trembling. Gabby murmured platitudes in his ear that Maxim could hardly hear, over the sound of his chattering teeth.

Gabby set him down gently, Maxim half-collapsing atop his pack. She hurried to the opposite side of camp and took off his jacket, spreading it on the dirt, smoothing out the wrinkles with a brush of her hand. She let her brown hair down and shook it out, watching him the entire time with an expression that Maxim swore he had never seen before, on anyone.

Duty, and reluctance, and…he did not know. Maxim knew three languages by heart and another three poorly, and yet lacked the words.

Gabby lay down on the jacket, and then looked up at him expectantly, patting the spot beside her.

“Come on, Maxim,” she said softly. “You’re freezing.”

An infusion of candy-store temptation that made his tongue curl with disgust, a saccharine and cloying idea that muddied his thoughts. Delphi poked at him, warning of empathic intrusion, but of course Maxim already knew the sensations were foreign in origin.

He shook his head.

Gabby stared at him for a moment, and all he could hear was blood rushing.

Maxim looked away, his mind a mess of honeysuckle and revulsion.

“Stop it,” Maxim spat, his throat tight. “Right now.”

Her expression remained perfectly neutral.

“What’s wrong, Maxim?”

The tide of misplaced desire receded from his mind, and he laughed shrilly.

“I’m not into girls,” Maxim admitted, wiping his face with the same rag he used to clean his pistol, smearing a veneer of ballistic oil on his skin. “I want you out of my head. Now. Understood?”

“…oh my God.”

Maxim exhaled sharply, shaking out his hands.

“I’m so sorry,” Gabby said, wrapping herself in his jacket self-consciously. “That was terrible of me.”

Maxim slapped himself lightly across the cheeks a couple times.

“I wondered what was wrong,” Gabby admitted, looking altogether relieved. “I’ve been leaning on you so hard, and nothing was working!”

“Yeah,” Maxim said, his skin crawling. “I know.”

She looked away, again with that odd expression. Maxim was curious despite himself.

“What is it?”

“It’s nothing,” Gabby said. “It’s just…”

“What?”

“I’m a little relieved, that’s all. I just…I want to live, I truly do, and I would do anything, but I really, really didn’t want to have to seduce you. No offense.”

“None taken.”

“It’s nothing personal!” Gabby said hurriedly. “I have a fiancé, you see.”

Maxim blushed, not entirely sure why, his eyes darting automatically to the fingers of her left hand.

“Oh, I don’t wear it in the field,” Gabby said. “Too easy to lose it, or…”

She trailed off.

“Who?”

“Who what?”

“Don’t play games with me. Who is your fiancé?”

“It’s still a secret, but I suppose there’s no hiding it from you,” Gabby said, with a reticent demeanor that Maxim did not buy at all. “His name is Grigori Aushev! Do you know him?”

Maxim’s eyes narrowed.

“The Auditor?”

“Just lately, yes,” Gabby said, flush with pride. “Our families made the arrangement two and a half years ago. He was just a junior Operator for the Hegemony, but I knew, even then, that he was destined for great things.”

Maxim rubbed his eyes.

“What happens, now?” Gabby sat up, rubbing her back. “What do we do?”

“I don’t know,” Maxim said. “I never had any intention of taking you prisoner.”

“We don’t have to be enemies,” Gabby said. “We don’t need to fight just because everyone else is.”

“You make it sound as if you aren’t a part of it.”

“I don’t mean it like that. I understand. I would have killed you if I could have.”

“Yeah. Are you trying to empathize with me, again?”

“I can’t help it. We’ve started to understand each other. This is just normal human stuff, Maxim.”

“I don’t see how that helps, in the current circumstances.”

“I’m not saying that it does or doesn’t. It’s just how things work. We’ve been open with one another. Shared secrets. It’s natural to feel a certain closeness, I think.”

“That’s not what happened,” Maxim growled. “You were messing with my head.”

“I am trying to survive,” Gabby said defiantly. “I told you I would do anything. I warned you.”

Maxim shook his head.

“I regret not shooting you when I had the chance,” Maxim said. “Instead of asking you questions, I should have put a bullet in your head.”

“There you go again,” Gabby said, smiling. “Sharing. You’re opening up to me, Maxim!”

“I am doing no such thing!”

“You are and you know it,” Gabby enthused. “It was very crass of me to try what I did, to invade your mind and fail to notice something as basic as your…” Gabby blushed, gestured helplessly. “…orientation.” She tittered nervously. “I should have been more thoughtful in my approach, and not just made assumptions based on your appearance.”

“My appearance?” Maxim glanced down at himself. “What do you mean by that?”

“Now that we’ve moved past our initial misunderstanding, there’s finally room for our relationship to develop,” Gabby said, smiling warmly. “I wouldn’t be surprised if we end up the very best of friends!”

“I don’t think so,” Maxim said, sitting down on the other side of the camp stove. “We are on the opposite sides of a war, remember? There’s only two ways for this to go.”

“What are they?”

“Either I kill you, or you kill me,” Maxim said. “That’s it. I don’t plan on dying.”

“Who does? You aren’t a very creative thinker, are you?” Gabby laughed. “I can think of many other possibilities.”

“Oh, please. Your first idea failed miserably. What else could you possibly try?”

“It did not fail miserably,” Gabby said, with an affronted look. “We reached an accord! You cannot just discount that sort of progress in our relationship.”

“We don’t have any sort of relationship,” Maxim snapped. “I have no idea why I haven’t killed you.”

“You can’t, and you don’t want to,” Gabby reminded him. “There’s more to human interaction than friendship and love, you know. There are all sorts of relationships, Maxim. Even whatever is going on between us qualifies.”

Six

Day One

The hotel was situated in the heart of the Strip and had been designed for Chinese tourists, with red drapes and gold trim on the mirrors, staff that switched effortlessly between Mandarin and English, and tasteful displays of art, pieces from the Chinese diaspora placed alongside archaeological relics of the Middle Kingdom.

Arriving in a small fleet of limousines, they were met by eager staff at the sidewalk, and whisked through the main lobby to a private lounge while a pair of hosts made arrangements behind a counter of dappled marble. Tea and hot towels were provided, but the delay was so brief that the tea had hardly cooled to a drinkable temperature before they were escorted to a private set of elevators.

Anastasia went up first, flanked by her maids and her vampire bodyguard.

The Auditors had to wait until the remainder of Anastasia’s servants and luggage were conveyed to their rooms, attentive staff buzzing about them, taking drink orders and enumerating the hotel’s amenities.

The elevators were silver and glass capsules, big enough for a score of passengers. A helpful woman in a red jacket worked the elevator panel for them, and then pointed out sites of interest during the brief climb.

They exited at the penthouse level, and were met by a legion of bellhops, one tasked to each of them. Their rooms were adjoining, clustered at the end of a hallway that terminated with a fire door. Alice followed the bellhop into her room, and then hurried him out before he could finish explaining the room service and entertainment options.

She closed the door behind him, and then hesitated, taking in the opulent lounge, the well-appointed kitchenette, and beyond that, the gaudily appointed bedroom and bathroom. The carpet and drapes were done in the red and gold motif of the hotel, and the furnishings were unblemished white and mostly leather. There were ashtrays and corded phones in both rooms, which struck Alice as amusing anachronisms amid so much luxurious modernity.

Alice looked around the room uncertainly. Her field gear was so dirty that she was afraid to touch any of the furniture, for fear of staining it.

She pulled off her boots, and then wriggled her toes, enjoying the way her feet sank into the plush crimson carpet.

Examining the shower and whirlpool tub, Alice decided that she was taking a bath.

A polite knock at the door interrupted her. She opened it, expecting to see the bellhop, and instead a polite staff member rolled a cart into the room, placing an ice bucket filled with Chinese beer that Alice remembered ordering on the kitchenette counter, along with a pot of tea, a fruit basket, and a plate of appetizers she did not remember requesting. Alice was still wondering if a tip was expected when the staffer slipped back out of the door, careful to shut it softly behind him.

Alice shook her head, grabbed a bottle and an opener, and then went to the bathroom.

She took her harness and clothes off, and then kicked them aside. The tile was cool and textured like sand beneath her feet. She started to run herself a bath, adding a small bottle of scented bath oil she found near the faucet, and then stepped into the shower. She turned it on full blast, stifling a cry as cold water beat down on her head. She waited until the water that pooled at her feet was no longer brown, and then she turned the dial to warm and soaped up. When she decided she was clean enough, she turned off the shower, and then moved to the nearly full bathtub, dripping all over the bathroom floor on the way. She put her beer in an accessible corner, and then put one foot in the bath, making a face at the temperature.

The water in the bath was so hot it took her a full minute to get in.

She soaked for a half-hour or so before returning to the kitchen for another beer, leaving a trail of wet footprints across the carpet.

She finished the second beer, and then stayed in the bath until the water had cooled.

Alice dried off, dropping the used towel on the bathroom floor, and then used a blow-dryer on her hair. She wrapped herself in another towel, and then went to lie on the bed, which was like a particularly buoyant cloud made of linen and silk, to peruse the hotel directory of services.

The bellhop had brought her bags, but that was mostly field gear.

Alice called the concierge and had a short conversation. She provided her sizes and preferences, and then took a short nap atop the fluffy white duvet. When she woke up the sun had almost set, and there was a pair of red boxes waiting just outside her door. Alice brought them back and opened them on the bed, tearing through layers of delicate crepe paper.

The jeans were black selvedge denim, brand new and never washed, the kind that would leave faint dye stains on her skin. Beneath the jeans, a few different tops were folded in a neat stack. Alice tried all three on, but settled on the first, a grey merino wool top that was light and breezy.

Below that was a selection of undergarments, ranging from practical to risqué. After long consideration, Alice selected a lacey matched set in black. She laid the clothes out on the bed beside a pair of cheap sandals from her kit bag and her chrome-buckled belt.

She put on the underwear, and then took the smaller of the boxes to the damp bathroom, opening it on the counter.

She liked the selection of makeup that had been provided less than the clothes, but after a few minutes of experimentation, she settled on a mascara and a complementary shade of lipstick.

Alice finished a third beer while she applied makeup, worrying over the prominence of the lines around her eyes and forehead, wondering if it was age, or just the lighting in the bathroom. She brushed her teeth with a travel-sized toothbrush, gargled mouthwash that was the exact shade of Windex, and then knocked on the door to the adjoining room.

There was a rattle of bolts and latches, and then the door opened.

Alice marched past Xia into his room, wearing only her newly acquired underwear.

He had already stripped the linens from the bed, wrapping the mattress, and nearly every other surface he might touch, with layers of plastic wrap. Alice was careful not to touch anything as she made her way to his kitchen.

“What do you think, Xia?” Alice asked, looking through Xia’s refrigerator. “Is this swanky enough for you?”

Xia nodded, moving aside his filtration mask to take a sip from a bottle of spring water.

“You nervous?” Alice rummaged through his refrigerator, settling on a cheese plate that she knew Xia would never touch. “What about? What happens tomorrow, or…?”

She took the cheese plate to the lounge, sitting on the plastic-wrapped couch.

“The Black Sun,” Alice said, smearing brie on a sesame cracker. “Anastasia Martynova and her personal jihad. I get it. She’s a tricky one. We’ll have to be careful, or we’ll end up working for her without even realizing it.”

Xia set aside the bottle of water, watching her closely.

Alice stretched out on the couch, kicking her legs up on one of the arms, the plastic wrap crinkling beneath her. Xia watched intently as she popped green grapes into her mouth.

“All we’ve got to work with is the kids,” Alice sighed. “I wish we at least still had Karim.”

Xia took a seat on a plastic-wrapped chair on the other side of the room.

“You think so?” Alice considered it over a slice of aged Pecorino. “I don’t feel like I have the best track record. I’ve lost more Auditors in a month than Alastair did in five years.”

Xia shook his head.

“You’re sweet to say it,” Alice said, the plastic beneath her crinkling as she rolled to her stomach. “I’m sure Alistair or Becca would have done a better job. I love Auditing, but I’m not cut out to be a leader, or to teach these kids anything. It’s not in my nature.”

Xia scratched the side of his nose. Alice kicked her legs up playfully as she finished the grapes.

“I know what Becca thinks. I know what Mikey thinks, too, if he’s still alive. They’re both wrong about me,” Alice said, stretching languidly. “You’re the only one who really knows me, Xia. You know I’m not meant for this.”

Xia mopped his forehead with a handkerchief that went immediately into the trash.

“I guess that’s why I’m okay with this Black Sun deal,” Alice said. “I’m inevitably going to end up the bad guy, one way or the other. I’m much more comfortable that way. You know how it is. How I am.”

Xia tugged the blue gloves he wore off, and tossed them in the trash, immediately replacing them with a new pair.

“I suppose you’re right. Still gotta get the kids home safe, then I can worry about Central. It’s always something, isn’t it?” She stood, peeling herself slowly off the plastic wrap, and then smiled at Xia. “Whatever happens will happen, I suppose. Anyway, if I’m going to go out at all tonight, I’ve got to finish getting ready. This underwear,” Alice said, with a provocative gesture, “won’t work at all, either. Lucky you – they gave me three other options.”

She walked by Xia back toward her room, tugging at the straps of her bra as she went.

“You wanna come watch me change?”

Xia followed after her, careful not to touch anything in her room.

***

Ugh! So gross! Hayley lay face down on the bedsheets and pulled a pillow over her head. I hate being a telepath! I hate maintaining the encrypted channel! Why does everyone have to be so icky?

You know I’m hearing this right? In the next room, Min-jun idly flipped through cable channels, never lingering on a channel long enough to get involved in the programming. Are you broadcasting on accident?

I wanted you to hear it, Hayley thought from beneath the pillow. Misery loves company, and all that.

If you say so.

Aren’t you going to ask what’s bothering me?

I was not planning to do that, no.

I’m going to tell you anyway, Hayley thought. They are at it again.

Min-jun sighed, flipped off the television, and closed his eyes.

Okay, fine, Min-jun thought. Who is doing what?

Ms. Gallow is changing in front of Xia. Again.

That’s weird, Min-jun thought. Don’t they have separate rooms?

Yes, of course! I’ve told you about this before. Karim mentioned something weird about it, once, and since…I can’t help but notice it. Despite the lack of inflection in telepathic communication, Min-jun could feel Hayley’s discomfort. It’s so gross!

Why is that gross? They’re both adults. Whatever they want to do on their down time is fine by…

Ms. Gallow is seeing Mr. Lacroix. You know that. Everyone knows that.

That’s not my business, Min-jun thought, glad Hayley was a poor empath, so he didn’t have to hide his annoyance. What if Ms. Gallow and Mr. Lacroix have some sort of arrangement? That works for some people, you know.

If you were a telepath, you’d know that it hardly ever does, whatever people say, Hayley thought, flinging her pillow across the room. Almost everyone is jealous almost all the time. I can’t express the extent of it accurately, but trust me, it’s universal.

Even if Ms. Gallow is cheating on Mr. Lacroix, though, I just don’t see…

She isn’t even cheating. That’s the weird part, Hayley thought, diving beneath the blankets and huddling there with her hands over her ears. Xia won’t touch anyone, you know.

Yeah, I know. I guess I was a bit surprised that…

They never actually…you know. Do anything. She just…shows off for him. Changing, showering, swimming, that sort of thing. Xia just watches her.

Min-jun rolled over and turned off the bedside lamp. The room was still moderately bright, the lights of the Vegas strip bleeding through the gauzy inner curtain.

That’s a bit odd, Min-jun admitted. I don’t see anything wrong with it, though.

I didn’t say wrong, I said gross. I don’t care what they do, I just don’t want to be a part of it.

I can’t blame you for that. Can’t you just block it out?

Not if I’m keeping the encrypted channel active for emergencies, Hayley thought. I can’t risk it.

No, you can’t, Min-jun agreed. Ms. Gallow would probably kill you for real.

She probably would.

I can’t decide if they just forgot about me, Hayley thought, or if Ms. Gallow is some sort of exhibitionist. Maybe she even likes it better that way?

I don’t know, Min-jun said, settling in his bed. If I had to guess, that’s what Xia is into, not Ms. Gallow.

How would you know?

I don’t know. I said it was a guess.

Okay. Why do you think that?

Seems like more of a guy thing, for one, Min-jun thought. As you said yourself, Xia won’t touch anyone. I’ve heard rumors that Xia and Ms. Gallow go way back. Maybe she’s just doing him a favor?

Maybe, Hayley though doubtfully. It doesn’t feel like she minds.

I didn’t say she did.

I do feel bad for Xia, and everything. He seems nice, once you get past all the compulsions and trauma and OCD.

We all have stuff we like to do in private, Min-jun thought, beginning to drift off. I don’t think that’s so objectionable.

Easy for you to say, Hayley thought. You don’t have to be a part of it.

Min-jun did not bother to reply, his mind beginning to wander, his bed bathed in lurid neon.

He was almost out when a gentle nudge from Hayley woke him.

Min-jun? Did you fall asleep?

Very nearly, Min-jun thought, rolling over. What is it, Hayley?

Nothing.

Just go ahead. I’m up, now.

It’s really nothing. I mean, they stopped. Ms. Gallow went out, and…it’s nothing.

The more you say that, the less convinced I become, Min-jun thought, yawning into his pillow. What is it?

I don’t know. It just feels…do you think this is the end, Min-jun? I mean, whatever is going on with the Ether, and that World Tree, and the Anathema. And now there’s a war in Central!

I’d like to think the world won’t end. Why?

It just feels that way, I guess.

Min-jun tossed and turned for a moment, and then he sighed and turned the light back on. He got up from bed and went to the door to the adjoining room, undoing the chain and releasing the bolt, and then knocked softly.

Hayley opened it a moment later, her eyes widening when she saw Min-jun standing there in his boxers.

“You seem anxious,” Min-jun said, rubbing his eyes. “Do you want to watch a movie with me?”

Hayley gave him a look that was equal parts surprise and suspicion.

“In your room?”

“Or yours. I don’t care.”

“Alone?”

“You can invite Grigori if you want a chaperone,” Min-jun said, with a very slight grin.

Hayley hesitated and glanced over at the disarray of her bed, the pillows tossed aside and the sheets half on the floor.

“I’ll leave the door unlocked,” Min-jun said, scratching his bare chest. “If you want to come over, you can. If you don’t, no hard feelings.”

He nodded to her, and then gently closed the door.

Hayley stood in the center of the hotel room, staring at the closed door.

Min-jun?

He paused, his fingers on the metal switch at the base of the lamp.

Yes?

Is a movie…is that all you have in mind?

Sure, Min-jun thought, adjusting his pillow. If that’s what you want to do.

Hayley gave the matter further consideration.

Don’t you have a fiancé, Min-jun?

I do.

What would she think of you having a girl in your room at this hour?

She would not like it, Min-jun thought. But she is in Seoul, and we are here, so what does it matter? We are beyond that now, and with all due respect, you don’t have to make it out to be such a riddle. This is normal behavior in exceptional circumstances. It’s not that complicated.

***

“You have something you want to say,” Anastasia said, not bothering to open her eyes. “Please go ahead, Mai. I value your perspective.”

“It’s nothing, really,” Mai said, gently combing out her Mistress’s hair. “I was just thinking that the risk of this endeavor continues to grow as we proceed.”

“You wish that I would reconsider,” Anastasia said. “What worries you? Everything, or just the arrangement that I have made with the Auditors?”

“I would never second-guess your decisions,” Mai said. “You have set a course, and we will follow it. I wish you would take more time for consideration, that’s all. Your father will be just as adequately avenged in a month or a year, Mistress.”

Anastasia was quiet while Mai finished combing the braids and the tangles from her hair.

“I cannot sleep, Mai,” Anastasia admitted, her eyes still closed as Mai misted her hair with Moroccan argan oil. “I try, but I cannot seem to fall asleep, since the bombing.”

“Mistress, I had no idea.”

“I will not be able to rest until my father is buried.” Anastasia finally opened her eyes, and their reflection in the mirror was dull. “I will not see my father buried while his enemies live and breathe. I will not allow them to celebrate or mock. I cannot.”

“Let them try,” Mai said, her heart pounding. “We are prepared for them now, Mistress. We will not allow them a second chance.”

“I will meet my father’s enemies at a time and place of my own choosing,” Anastasia said. “Why would I give away that advantage, allowing my enemies to wait until I am at my weakest?”

Mai hesitated for a long time before speaking again, waiting until she had nearly put Anastasia’s hair up for the night.

“As long as you are acting from a place of strength,” Mai advised. “Do not allow yourself to be goaded by emotion or obligation. There is nothing that you owe to anyone. You are the injured party, and you are deserving of restitution, but you should not be hasty.”

“Except where haste is required,” Anastasia said, smiling at her in the mirror. “Your advice is as invaluable as always, Mai, and I will bear your words in mind. Is that all?”

“One other thing,” Mai said. “You cannot trust the Auditors to do the right thing, Mistress, or even the best thing for themselves. Alice Gallow is capricious and deviant, and acts on her whims, rather than any logic or sound strategy. The Auditors are nearly as dangerous as allies as they are as enemies.”

“You are right, of course, and I do not trust them in any capacity. My needs are great at present, however, and I will use all the tools at my disposal, and as I suspected, Ms. Gallow is more than eager to be used.”

***

Alice left the hotel they were staying in almost without realizing it, conveyed by a moving walkway through a lobby so large she could barely see the other end. The pervasive air conditioning made the evening feel mild and inviting.

She had no specific destination.

Their hotel had a bar – several bars, truthfully – but she never even gave them a thought. She needed a place where no one knew her and did not want her evening ruined by encountering a Black Sun flunky, or one of her youthful charges.

She was certain that she had visited Las Vegas before, but had no specific memories of doing so. Alice imagined that she must have come here with Becca, when they were both just Auditors, and life was sweet and simple and soaked in blood.

They probably had fun, Alice reflected, wandering through the visual and auditory chaos of a casino floor. She briefly wished that she could have remembered, and then almost immediately put it aside.

Alice had no interest in a maudlin evening.

The casino appeared to be a maze built almost entirely of slot machines. A dozen or so card tables were sandwiched in between the rows of beeping and ringing consoles, oversaturated monitors framed in fake bronze arranged like a wall around the small islands of green felt.

At the tables, most of the gamblers were Asian tourists. At the slot machines nearby, there was a large contingent of vacationing widows, each toting a plastic cup filled with coins in one hand, a cigarette inevitably in the other. The powerful air conditioning reduced the smell of smoke to a tolerable level, but Alice still found her eyes watering.

She wandered through the casino into the carpeted labyrinth of the hotel floor, passing through a marble-floored shopping mall, and then a weird conglomeration of restaurants, with high-class steakhouses and sushi on one side, and a neon-accented food court to the other. Alice caught her reflection in a thousand mirrored surfaces as she walked, smiling crookedly back at herself, maybe just a little tipsy.

Tipsy wasn’t going to cut it tonight, Alice thought, passing a sports betting alcove with a hundred different televisions silently projecting football, horse racing, and row after row of incomprehensible numbers – betting lines, scores, or statistics, Alice supposed.

None of it interested in her in the slightest, but she was pleased to be away from the crowds of tourists in garish printed tees, shouting at each other or into cell phones, each toting what looked like a tall thin vase about with them, a meter of neon plastic filled with slush and well liquor. The sports book was quiet, by Vegas standards, and the high-limit area just beyond that was even more subdued.

She drifted into the high roller’s area, bemused by the small tables playing pai gow and casino war, and the roped-off arcades filled with slot machines identical to those at the standard casinos, saving only their denominations, which were wildly inflated from their humble coin-eating origins. Alice laughed, wondering to herself what kind of person had thousands of dollars to lose gambling, but chose to do so on a machine inexplicably covered in emojis.

There were a handful of patrons and hundreds of machines. The music was innocuous light rock, nearly drowned out by the din of the underused slots. There was a perfusion of columns and drapes, an abundance of polite staff in burgundy coats that made no attempt to stop or question her, and more ATM machines than could have ever been required.

A bar was situated around an indoor fountain beside the cordoned gambling areas, beneath an enormous chandelier which dangled frost-glass icicles over tables occupied by men in suits and women wearing cocktail dresses. Alice found a seat at the bar, in between a man in a sports coat completely occupied by his phone and a bored-looking woman with teased hair and an overly sculpted face.

It took quite a while for the staff to acknowledge her, and when they finally did, the gin and tonic she ordered on a whim took even longer to arrive. When it finally did, Alice frowned at the first sip, unsure if she enjoyed the comingling of lime and juniper. She had recently forgotten what she preferred to drink and had since been working her way through every cocktail and spirit she could recall, trying to determine her preferences.

Bored and tired of waiting, she left the bar and resumed her wandering.

It was not clear to her if she wandered into a different casino, or just a further extension of the same one. There were no clear demarcations, only jarring shifts in theme and color palette. Old Vegas had been more radical in its presentation, Alice recalled, setting castles and dragons beside pyramids and faux New York and Paris skylines, but these newer hotels seemed only to offer variations on what a high-end resort might look like, to different crowds and tastes.

Alice was not sure if that represented an improvement.

She found another bar, less bright and polished than the last, though it featured the same wooden Modernist aesthetic, but was blue-collar enough to have video poker terminals inset in the bar. It was close to the casino, so that the racket of hundreds of slot machines was a dull roar of competing electronics. Alice took a seat at the nearly empty bar, scanned the unoccupied tables, and wondered if she had mistakenly wandered into a place that was closed. She had no time to consider leaving, however, as a short bartender with permed hair and excellent teeth appeared to take her order, his smile perfectly expressing polite boredom.

Alice ordered a whiskey sour, because it was the first thing listed on the “Featured Items” menu, and then settled back, leaning against the bar and looking out at the casino floor.

The bar might have been largely overlooked by patrons, but it was heavily trafficked by waitstaff. Alice watched them parade in and out, their trays burdened with dozens of garish cocktails, and decided that this bar was primarily used to supply the waitress that worked the casino floor. She was so absorbed with people watching, and her bartender so indifferent, that she did not notice her drink arrive until her elbow bumped it.

Alice sniffed at the drink, shrugged, and then drank, swirling the cocktail in her mouth before swallowing.

It wasn’t bad, Alice thought, but also definitely not her favorite.

It would have been nice to pretend this was progress, another possibility eliminated from a whole catalog of prospective drinks, but Alice suspected that was not case. She could not remember what she had ordered the last time she drank. For all that she knew, she could have been trying the same handful of cocktails on each attempt, vainly repeating herself into drunkenness.

She stirred the drink with the thin red straw provided, frustrated and mildly agitated. Alice felt certain that she had known what she liked to drink quite recently. Without her diaries to refer to, or Becca to question, she had no way to research her prior preferences, but she promised herself that she would do so, as soon as she returned to Central.

She threw back the rest of the drink and then set aside the empty glass. The bartender did not reappear to make inquiries, but Alice was okay with that. She was distracted by a mental review of the various things she had forgotten just lately.

It was getting worse, Alice knew, though acknowledging that chilled her.

The more she used her protocol, the greater the gaps in her memory became. Just lately, the losses were piling up, and seemingly becoming more personal and important.

Things like her preferred drink.

What else had she forgotten, Alice wondered, that she was simply unaware of? How many little things had slipped away from her, she wondered, and fallen into the black hole that was consuming her mind?

The worry that she was running out of memories to forget nagged at her. She struggled to remember the names of the new Auditors, and to remember details from recent field operations. Alice considered the possibility that her condition had advanced to the point of preventing the formation of new memories, a sort of preemptive forgetting, and shivered at the thought.

Xia had to remind her of Min-jun and Grigori’s names on a regular basis.

Hell, early this evening, he had to remind her that Mikey was in the hospital, back at Central.

Grim thoughts.

Alice spun around on her stool, aiming to locate the bartender and order the second option on the list.

The bartender was nowhere in sight, but there was a pair of champagne flutes on the bar filled with a peach-colored liquid, and a well-put-together man in a suit as grey as his hair standing not far from her, a strange smile on his face. He nodded personably, and then gestured toward the stool beside her.

She nodded, wondering how he had gotten so close without her noticing.

“Good evening,” the man said, a hint of an unfamiliar accent to his words. “I don’t mean to trouble you, but you look rather distressed, and I thought…”

“You thought I could use company?” Alice smiled. “Maybe you’re right.”

She gave him a quick visual evaluation. His suit was well-tailored and modern in cut, worn with such aplomb that Alice suspected he was familiar with the prosperity required to maintain such a wardrobe. His skin was smooth and bronzed, the lines of his shoulders and waist suggestive of a regular gym regime. Only the grey in his trimmed hair and neat beard were indicative of more years than his cultured voice and enthusiastic demeanor would have suggested.

After a moment of drunken contemplation, Alice decided that he probably would do, if he could make any sort of a conversation.

“I would certainly be honored to keep you company,” the man said. “Thrilled, really. That is not what I wanted to say, however.”

“Oh?”

“Yes,” the man said, his head bobbing as he took the flutes from the bar, offering her one. “I wondered if there was someone causing you distress, Alice, and if there was such a person, if I might do you the favor of seeing them buried alive in the desert?”

Alice laughed.

“You know, I’m really tired of meeting people who know me already, but I can’t remember. I think I might make an exception for you, maybe. That’s quite a line, by the way.”

“It has been well-received in the past.”

“Who are you?”

“Jacob Havel,” the man said, sipping from his flute. “It is always a pleasure to meet you, Alice Gallow.”

“Yeah, okay,” Alice said, trying her own drink. “This…this isn’t bad. What is it?”

“A ‘French 75’. Gin and champagne, primarily. We like to serve it with a bit of citron juice, along with a little rind.”

“Wait, wait. What’s with ‘we’? You don’t look like a bartender.”

“I should hope not,” the man said, laughing. “I’m part owner of this establishment, along with several others. We own a few hotels here, and in Amsterdam and Macau as well.”

“I see,” Alice said. “Color me intrigued.”

“Excellent. What can I do to improve your opinion of me further?”

“You could tell me how we know each other. You seem to already know how bad my memory is.”

“I know that well, and I know why your memory fails you. We’ve known each other for a very long time, Alice. I met you first in London, but it was a brief encounter, and of no particular significance.”

“I didn’t make an impression?”

“Not in comparison with the impact of our second meeting in Vienna. I can say without reservation that it changed my life. Both of our lives, if I might be so bold.”

“Really?” Alice laughed. “You think you made that much of an impact on me?”

“I assume so,” Jacob said, smiling modestly. “We spent the next three decades involved. Associates at the very least, if not partners.”

“What? No way! You’re full of shit.”

“I assure you that I am being truthful. You must realize that you have not always been an Auditor.”

“Yes, but…”

“I hope the cocktail is still to your tastes?”

“This is something I liked to order, I think,” Alice said, taking another contemplative sip. “I should probably write this down.”

Jacob smiled cautiously, the taut skin of his ageless face suddenly creased with concern. Glancing down at his slim, manicured fingers, Alice was struck by his swollen and lined knuckles, and suspected that he was older than she had initially imagined.

“You have become frank regarding your condition,” Jacob observed. “It used to very much be a secret.”

“I can’t really pretend that it is much of a secret when strange men make a habit of accosting me in public, somehow aware that I can’t remember fuck-all.” Alice looked down at her drink. “I wonder how many of you don’t say anything. Makes me feel like I’m always at a disadvantage, conversationally.”

“There are relatively few people who know about your memory,” Jacob reassured her, glancing at the bartender. “Fewer still who have any understanding of your condition. I do not wish to alarm or alienate you, but I think it’s likely that I know you better than anyone else.”

“That’s disconcerting,” Alice said, finishing her drink. “Enough with the mystery. Who the hell are you, Jacob Havel?”

“As I said, I am an investor in various gaming and hospitality ventures around the world, and a recluse who rarely leaves the pleasant confines of this resort. It is likely more to the point to discuss what I was. I have been many things, over many years – largely thanks to you, I might add – I was among the first Operators, and the very first Director. The credit is misplaced, and neither the rumor nor the title originated with me, but I’m told that in Central these days, I’m often known as ‘The Founder’.”

***

Hayley waited in the lobby for her delivery, chewing gum and people-watching. The hotel was kept slightly too cool for her tastes, and she shivered occasionally, wishing her field jacket had been clean enough to wear to the casino.

Anastasia Martynova had offered clothing and supplies to the Auditors, but Hayley’s Hegemonic affiliation was too strong to accept charity from the Black Sun, well intended or not. She had buried an uncle and two friends, killed in the endless minor skirmishing between the Hegemony and its rival, and the experience colored her outlook more than she cared for.

Sometimes even working with Katya was more than Hayley could bear.

Hayley popped her gum and frowned, upset by the tenor of her train of thought. She prided herself on an open mind and an optimistic outlook. The last few days, however, she had felt an overwhelming amount of frustration and despair, coupled with a sense of isolation, caused more than anything by Ms. Gallow’s flippancy, along with the stoicism of Grigori and Min-jun.

Min-jun. Hayley frowned.

Her bad mood was mostly his fault.

Not that he meant anything by it. In fact, Min-jun had been upsettingly casual and remote about the whole thing. It would have been awkward either way, but seeming to make the offer on a whim made it all worse in Hayley’s eyes.

An internet search informed Hayley of the legal status of cannabis in Nevada, much to her surprise. It was real legality, too, not the bizarre song-and-dance of a medical card system, so she did a little comparison shopping online.

Ten minutes later, she had arranged a delivery.

She had thought of Min-jun as a friend, in a casual way, or at least a friendly sort of colleague. She had thought him sane and moral, in comparison to the rest of the Auditors, a like mind.

He was a member of the Hegemony, at least.

She had thought he was in love with his fiancé. Their relationship sounded sweet, maybe even a little bit over the top. Min-jun talked about her all the time!

Hayley ground her gum between her teeth until it was a flattened, tasteless ribbon, and then ducked into the bathroom to get rid of it.

She got an automated text from the delivery service while she was washing her hands, a strong odor of perfume hanging about the casino bathroom, undercut by faint notes of bleach. She shoved her hands beneath the jet dryer, and then hurried out to find her driver in the front of the hotel, double-parked in a loading zone. The mica-flecked silver paint on his lowered Honda Accord glimmered in the multihued light cast by the Strip, and the impatient, heavily stoned driver had his window down and her brown paper bag waiting when she approached. A strong odor of burnt weed assailed her as she leaned in to take the bag from her red-eyed driver, handing him a folded sheaf of bills in exchange.

The driver hardly spoke and did not bother to count the money before taking off.

Hayley walked through the casino, and after several wrong turns, back out the other side, into the sulfurous lighting and stifling heat of the concrete parking structure. The stairs were white-painted and lined with friction tape, the doors to each level were green and heavy. The stairwell smelled strongly of piss, and Hayley resolved to take the elevator back down as she emerged on the roof of the parking garage, the asphalt still warm through her crepe soles despite the late hour.

Without any of her paraphernalia at hand, Hayley had opted for pre-rolled joints, a trio of brown paper cones packed with pungent green herb. Since it was Central’s money that she was spending, purloined from her emergency kit, Hayley opted for the most expensive joints on the menu, cannabis flower supplemented with water-press hashish, each packaged in a cylindrical plastic tube covered with warning labels. Reviewing her options, she selected a joint rolled with a strain called ‘Cookie Monster’. Her disappointment at the lack of any cookie flavor when she lit up was mitigated by the intense, head-fogging high that kicked in before she was halfway done.

She finished two-thirds of the joint before a coughing fit persuaded her to stop. She tossed the remainder into the trash-filled culvert that ran below, and then made her way back to the elevator, glassy-eyed and content. The garage elevator did not smell much better than the stairs.

She wandered the casino, the surfeit of bright light and electronic noise still overwhelming, but now less aggressively bothersome. She drifted with the crowd of gamblers through seas of patterned carpet, brushing the green felt of an empty card table with her fingertips as she passed. She paused to watch an elderly woman with painted eyebrows collect a small bucket of nickels from a slot-machine jackpot, and then hesitated in front of one of the many bars, considering a drink that she ultimately rejected.

She turned around, intending to take the elevator back to her room, and then maybe take a bath before trying to sleep, and then noticed the man hovering in a corner of the massive room, wearing a plastic raincoat and a blue mask stretched across the lower half of his face, matching nitrile gloves, and what appeared to be swim goggles clamped over his eyes. He was watching a nearby roulette table with apparent interest, occasionally drinking from a bottle of water that he wiped down with a tissue after every sip.

Hayley hurried over to Xia, grateful for a familiar face. The lingering metal fog from the weed helped her to gloss over the unpleasant nature of her earlier, accidental telepathic eavesdropping.

“Hi, Xia,” Hayley said, standing as close as she felt he’d be comfortable with. “Can’t sleep?”

Xia glanced at her, his goggles offering her a blue-tinted reflection of herself, and nodded.

“Me neither,” Hayley said. “Can I ask you a question?”

Xia turned back to the roulette table, seemingly fascinated by the rotation of the brass and wood wheel.

“Do you…what do you think is going to happen tomorrow?”

Xia tightened the cap on his water bottle. Hayley looked at Xia sympathetically, taking in the sweater beneath the plastic coat, the heavy tweed pants tucked into bulky steel-toed boots, and the sock cap pulled tight over his ears, and wondered how he was surviving the Vegas heat.

“That’s too vague, isn’t it? I should just say what I’m thinking,” Hayley said, pinching her lip. “Do you think we’re all going to die tomorrow?”

Xia glanced at her, then returned to his silent observation of the gaming table.

“I’m a shit empath, but when emotions are extreme, it’s hard for me not to notice. Ms. Gallow is…I mean, I know she’s not afraid, but I can tell that’s she’s, I don’t know, resigned. She’s upset about whatever is happening in Central, and she doesn’t trust the Black Sun involvement, and she isn’t sure whether we should go after Alistair before we leave, or not. That seems like a lot for her to deal with, don’t you think?”

She watched the roulette wheel spin in the reflection on his goggles.

“It doesn’t seem normal to me,” Hayley complained. “We already lost Katya and Alex, and Karim is dead, and then Chike and Mr. Lacroix and…” Hayley sighed. “It hasn’t been a good week for Auditors, has it, and even Ms. Gallow is concerned that it might get worse.”

Xia took a tissue from his coat pocket and used it to wipe the sweat from his forehead, immediately tossing the tissue in the nearby garbage can after he finished.

“This isn’t like me, but I can’t help it,” Hayley observed desultorily. “How many Auditors have you seen die in action, Xia? A lot, right?”

Hayley put her face in her hands.

“Do you think we’ll even make it back to Central? Or will we all just die in transit? Or worse, a failed apport. We could all end up floating in the Ether…how long do you think we’d last out there? Would we die right away, or would we just drift forever? That’s the scariest part, to me.”

Hayley looked up to discover that Xia was offering her a tissue. She smiled and took it, careful not to brush his gloved fingers.

“I’m sorry for putting all this on you,” Hayley said, dabbing the corners of her eyes with the tissue. “I’m babbling, aren’t I? We’re all acting strangely, trying to deal with the tension and uncertainty, I guess. I just don’t feel like any of this is what I signed on for. What about you, Xia? Is this what you had in mind, when you became an Auditor?”

A long silence followed, Hayley’s eyes drifting naturally to the spinning roulette wheel that seemed to have Xia completely absorbed.

“I wish I could be as resilient as you are. Is that something that comes with time and experience, or did you always feel that way?”

Hayley closed her eyes for a moment, shutting out the excessive light in the casino. She took three deep breaths, willing herself to calm down, telepathically altering her own brain chemistry to curb her gnawing anxiety.

When she opened her eyes again, she felt bolder.

“Can I ask you a personal question, Xia? It’s none of my business, I know, so please feel free to tell me to leave it, and…”

Xia glanced at her, turning away from the roulette wheel for just an instant before resuming his motionless contemplation.

“Are you in love with Ms. Gallow?”

He did not move or react in anyway.

Hayley bit her lip, and then slowly nodded.

“Maybe that isn’t a fair question,” she said. “Do you know how she feels about you, then?”

Xia took the bottle from his pocket, wiped the mouth with a tissue, and then took another sparing sip. There was still a bit of water left in the bottle, but he tossed it into the trashcan along with the crumpled tissue.

“Maybe it’s me that is acting strangely,” Hayley said. “Maybe I’m just angry because I’m too afraid to sleep, and everyone else seems fine. Is that it? Or…Xia, can I tell you something?”

Xia nodded without looking at her.

“You already know, don’t you?” Hayley blushed and covered her mouth. “I’m so sorry, Xia! I didn’t mean to eavesdrop. Usually I’m very good about blocking it all out, but everything was so intense and close, I couldn’t help but feel it a bit, secondhand. I hope…oh, please don’t hate me! I feel terrible for violating your privacy.”

He might have shrugged, making the smallest motion of his shoulders.

“It’s none of my business, anyway. I shouldn’t be judgmental. It didn’t even bother me that much. If not for Min-jun, I wouldn’t have…can I tell you about that, too? Do you mind?”

Hayley smiled broadly, in obvious relief.

“Thank you for listening,” Hayley said. “I really appreciate it. You’re always so nice. Do you feel like I’m taking your kindness for granted, unloading on you like this?”

Xia glanced at her briefly. Hayley blushed and covered her mouth.

“I should have seen it from the start,” Hayley said, cheeks reddening again. “It’s not the intrusion, is it? It’s my attitude. Oh, Xia, forgive me! I’m not usually so judgey, I was just in a bad mood and…”

Hayley could not completely dismiss the notion that Xia had smiled at her from behind his respirator.

“Gosh, Xia,” Hayley said, settling against the wall, beside him, but at a safe distance. “You really are a good friend, aren’t you?”

***

Alice finished her second French 75 in one gulp. The bartender hurried back to his citron and his grater.

“The Founder. You mean you discovered Central?”

“I was deeply involved in that endeavor,” Jacob explained. “I was part of the expedition that did much of the initial exploration of Central – though we didn’t call it that, not back then. The person responsible for the discovery of Central was my poor sister, Eliska, born mad and sickly. She was a Changeling, of course, but I would come to understand that much later. She found Central in her dreams, a record of which was made by the chief physician of the facility in which she was interred, the pitiful creature. The publication of her visions, in a record of other, similar ravings, was noted by several interested parties.”

Jacob sipped his drink, as the bartender silently delivered a fresh round to Alice.

“The man who first set foot in Central, and was also in many ways the first resident, if only for a brief time, was named Yoshiro Aikawa. As it so often happens, his role has been obscured and diminished in official histories, in favor of my own contributions.”

“Why is that?”

“I suppose there are all sorts of reasons. Racial, nationalistic, and economic,” Jacob said. “If I had to guess, however, he is forgotten largely because I murdered him at the Far Shores, and then threw his body into the Sea of Ether.”

Alice laughed, a look of intrigue on her face.

“You killed him? What did he do?”

“I belonged to an organization, men who would later come to be called ‘Operators’, who discovered the Ether, and were devoted to its study. Mr. Aikawa belonged to a rival organization based in Japan, which managed to beat us to Central by a mere matter of weeks. I was an ambitious young man,” Jacob said, smiling at the memory. “Quite ruthless, I’m afraid. When we discovered Mr. Aikawa camped not far from our mutual point of arrival, in what is known today as the Far Shores, he was starving and quite mad. He had managed to make it to Central somehow, but he had no means by which to return, and lacked supplies and rations to sustain himself.”

“That’s a bit of an oversight on his part. Makes me wonder why you needed to kill him, if he was dying anyway.”

“Mr. Aikawa was an obstacle to be removed. If he had been clear-minded when we met, I’m certain that he would have seen me in the same way. I was simply faster and better prepared.”

“So, you’re a bigshot, and you pretend to have discovered Central. How do I come into it?”

“You were there from the very start, Alice. You were there, beside me, when our expedition first advanced into Central. None of it could have happened without your cooperation. We entered Central the first time by stepping into your shadow, after all, and we returned in the same fashion. Without you, even if we had managed the apport to Central, we would have starved there, like poor Mr. Aikawa nearly did.”

“You’re saying I was one of your Operators? That seems awfully progressive. When did all of this happen, anyway?”

“You were never an Operator, Alice. I met you first in London, ten days before Christmas, just a few weeks after the Fenians bombed Clerkenwell Prison, in a failed escape attempt.”

“Fenians?”

“That’s what we used to call Irish Republicans,” Jacob said, grinning wryly. “In 1867.”

Alice turned pale and then drained her glass.

“Please stop saying things like that,” Alice said, moodily watching the bartender go to work again. “I’m going to end up ridiculously drunk.”

“What a tragedy that would be.”

“I’ve got a big day tomorrow. The Chief Auditor showing up to work with a hangover is a bad look.”

“There is nothing to require you to show up at all, if you don’t wish to.”

“They’d all die,” Alice said, laughing. “The Auditors. Half of ’em are kids.”

“What difference does it make?” Jacob smiled and raised his glass to her. “What is human life to you, after all?”

Alice’s smile wavered.

“What does that mean?”

“Exactly what it seems. Surely you must have noticed,” Jacob said. “Some Operators may appear not to age, or to age improperly or out of sequence, but they do not live any longer for it. When I first met you, Alice, you claimed that you were already centuries old.”

“What about you?” Alice challenged. “Didn’t you just claim to be old enough to have fought in the Civil War?”

“There is an exception to every rule, I suppose,” Jacob said, with an expression of good humor. “You are one such exception, and perhaps I could be called another, though a less remarkable one. My continued existence is owed entirely to what is currently referred to as a protocol. My gift and curse. I have thus far been unable to die, Alice,” he said, a haunted look crossing his face. “Not from fire and poison, not from injury or illness, and so far, not from age.”

Watching Jacob finish his drink, Alice was certain that she knew exactly how he viewed his protocol. It was obvious in the way he held his shoulders and the reserve in his smile.

Jacob was burdened by it.

“You claim to be an immortal Operator,” Alice said softly. “What am I, then?”

“When we met in London, you were introduced to me as the mistress of one general or another – which seemed odd, because that general was nowhere to be seen, and you were not reserved in your attentions or behavior. I believe that most were scandalized, but I was immediately enamored. Your hair was just as black, then, but you wore it longer.”

Alice thought of the dye she applied to her white roots and felt acutely self-conscious.

“When a minister and a Lord of the Admiralty were found rather brutally slaughtered in the wake of the event, it created quite a scandal. One of the victims was a distant cousin to the King, or some such nonsense, as I recall. You were never considered as a suspect – at the time a number of erroneous ideas of what the female of the species was capable of were in popular circulation – but I was surprised at how few seemed to remember you attending the party at all.”

Alice listened, and wondered if the feeling of confirmation inside her meant that he was telling the truth, or if she simply wanted it to be true.

“I largely forgot the incident and moved on. It was nearly twenty years later that I would encounter you in Vienna. There was a war on, between the Russians and the Turks, and I was there to attend a conference with some associates, to iron out new commercial routes in response to the closure of the Danube. I met you at a friend of a friend’s salon, one evening after a long day of negotiation. I was regrettably intoxicated at the time of our introduction and was rendered speechless by your reappearance.”

“Aw. That’s sort of sweet.”

“Your beauty, then as now, was incandescent. You exuded a reckless vivaciousness that made you incomparable to any other guest at the party. I was fascinated,” Jacob said, giving the bartender a bit of a nod. “Even with all that, I probably could have managed a few words. I was struck dumb, however, by your apparent agelessness. It had been the better part of two decades, and I felt that passed time in all sorts of ways, from aching bones to loose teeth. You, on the other hand, appeared not to have aged a single day.”

“How mysterious,” Alice said, her smile restored. “You must have thought it was magic.”

“That’s true,” Jacob admitted, a waiter appearing from behind the bar to place a black tray on the bar beside them. The tray was laden with glistening pink and white sashimi, arranged on the black background like colorful medallions. “Though I questioned my own sanity with greater seriousness.”

Jacob offered her a set of chopsticks, and Alice helped herself to a thin slice of toro.

“I also contemplated coincidence, drunkenness, mistaken identity, or even senility,” Jacob said, dipping crab meat into a dark sauce. “None of it stuck, so I found myself returning to thoughts of magic.”

“I feel a little bad,” Alice said. “Seeing me again must have really thrown you.”

“Yes and no. I was confused and dismayed, certainly. My first assumption turned out to be the truth of the matter, though I admit to having rejected the possibility as soon as it occurred to me.”

“Oh? What was your first impression?”

“I thought that you were a witch, Alice. As I would discover not long after, I was absolutely right.”

Alice let her chopsticks clatter onto the bar. She snatched her drink and threw it back.

“I really need you to stop doing that,” Alice complained, pale as the crab meat pinched between Jacob’s chopsticks. “I’m not even going to be able to walk if you keep it up.”

***

Grigori watched a movie about a woman in love with an imprisoned merman.

It was fine, but he didn’t think it was quite as good as people said.

***

“You must have known.”

Alice held on tightly to her recently refilled glass with both hands and said nothing.

“You must have at least suspected,” Jacob continued, signaling the bartender. “You do not age, Alice, and your capabilities are utterly unique. Have you ever met another Operator who did not die? Have you ever seen a protocol that even vaguely resembles your own ability to traverse the shadows?”

“You’re not the first person to say something like that to me recently.”

“Who else?”

“I forget,” Alice said, voice full of melancholy. “Isn’t that always the story?”

“Whoever told you that, I’m sure it was for their own reasons. I suppose I am also motivated by self-interest,” Jacob mused, picking at a small pile of ginger. “In my own defense, the only thing I want is for you to remember yourself. I’ve lived more years than I care to remember, and I have yet to meet anyone who burned so brightly.”

“Flattery,” Alice said. “Not sure I’m in the mood for flattery.”

“The failing is mine, then. What are you in the mood for?”

“A lot of things, but I’ll start with answers. Are you really the Founder?”

“In a sense. I was the leader of a group that colonized Central, the first of what are now called the ‘Great Families’. I was hardly the first to discover Central. Discounting who or whatever built the city itself, as well as poor Mr. Aikawa and his associates, we found signs of accidental discovery from the ancient Egyptian and Nubian kingdoms, as well as the odd Incan artifact here and there, and we did not look very hard. I was elected Director, and in due course I appointed the first Board and convened the first meeting of the Assembly. The Hegemony, as a matter of fact, was simply the ruling faction during the early years.”

“I don’t care about politics.”

“You have lived through too much to make such absurd statements,” Jacob said, with unexpected seriousness. “Politics is the science of control and everything falls within its purview.”

“Don’t fucking patronize me,” Alice said, snapping one of her chopsticks in half. “I’m not in the mood.”

“There’s that fire that I’ve missed,” Jacob said, grinning. “I am at your service, my lady. What do you want to know?”

“If you were in charge from the start, and you’ve been around this whole time, what the fuck have you been doing? Seems like you could have been more helpful.”

“I agree. Unfortunately, not long after we finally had Central up and running smoothly, an upstart leader of a minor cartel that I had foolishly championed coordinated a successful coup. I was removed from power, then Audited and exiled within a few weeks.”

“So, you were here the whole time, just hanging out by the pool?”

“I wish that were the case.” Jacob smiled, but Alice noticed a slight tremble in the muscle beside his right eye as he spoke. “I was partnered with ambitious and ruthless men, like myself. There was a coup. I was caught quite by surprise, I’m ashamed to say. I was taken to the Far Shores and cast into the Sea of Ether. As I did to poor Mr. Aikawa, so was done to me.”

Alice’s eyes widened.

“I thought that was…isn’t prolonged exposure to the Ether fatal?”

“I do not die,” Jacob reminded her gently. “I was poisoned by the environment, true, my body endlessly damaged by contact with the Ether. I starved and thirsted and suffered injury. I survived nonetheless, thanks to my protocol.”

“Bummer,” Alice said, without a shred of sympathy. “How long were you stuck out there?”

“Decades,” Jacob said, his hollow smile hinting at what those decades had been like. “Eighty years.”

“That’s a long time,” Alice remarked pitilessly. “How’d you get out?”

“That is a very long story…”

“I’ve got time. All night.”

“That is not long enough, I’m afraid.”

“Give me the Cliff Notes version.”

Jacob sighed, and then laughed.

“Very well. How to say it?” He considered. “The Black Sun has a long memory, I suppose. As a minority faction, they naturally supported the rebellion. Their scientists discovered me floating in the Ether quite by accident, and apparently the leadership of the Black Sun decided that a debt was owed to me, incurred by their treachery. I was salvaged to rectify what they saw as an affront to their honor. They funded my recovery – I was quite mad by that point, apart from my physical condition – and helped me establish myself after that. In return, I provided Lord Martynova with a variety of useful information in the years that followed, which he in turn used to propel the Black Sun into ascendance. No one does anything for free, after all.”

“Huh. So, Ana’s dad rescued you?”

“Josef? Yes, technically, though I believe it was his wife who…”

“Never mind. So, you’ve been back in the world for how long?”

“Eight years or so.”

“You’ve done well for yourself,” Alice said dryly. “The hotel’s nice.”

“I agree,” Jacob said, smiling ruefully. “I have not left the grounds in six years, after all.”

“What?” Alice laughed. “It’s not that nice.”

“Allow me to give you a tour of the penthouse level. I believe that it might change your mind.”

“That’s forward,” Alice said. “Pretty bold for a guy who doesn’t go outside. What’s the deal with that?”

“This hotel was specially constructed. The materials and the geometry preclude any sort of psychic intrusion, masking my Etheric Signature so completely that even the precognitive pools are unaware of my presence. I built it in secret, to elude the Black Sun and their surveillance network. I appreciated the rescue, of course, but I had no intention of serving Josef Martynova a moment longer than was necessary. The hotel became my refuge, and it has served me well in that regard. If I were I to leave, my presence would be noticed immediately in Moscow and in Central.” Jacob frowned. “There is also the small matter of the crippling agoraphobia by which I have been afflicted since my time in the Ether. I manage well enough at night, but during the day…” Jacob shook his head. “There is far too much sky.”

“That’s no way to live. Even if the hotel is as nice as you say.”

“My suite here occupies the entirety of the top two floors, and includes a private sauna and a hot tub that could double as a lap pool. Not to mention the indoor lap pool, and the gym, and the solarium and garden,” Jacob said. “My private chef has two Michelin stars to his credit and an unlimited budget. I keep a barber, a physical trainer, a manicurist, and a pair of Swiss-trained masseuses on retainer at all times.”

“I mean, yeah,” Alice muttered. “That’s nice and all, but…”

“There is also an infinity pool on the roof, rather larger than Olympic standard, with a built-in wet bar and an unrivaled view of Las Vegas, reserved entirely for my private use.”

Alice went pale.

“Wow. That’s…”

“If you dive beneath the water, you can look out on Las Vegas through a submerged window.” Jacob looked just a tiny bit discomfited. “The view is slightly obstructed by the neighboring hotel, but it is fantastic, I assure you.”

“You are right to never go outside,” Alice said, grabbing Jacob’s hand. “Take me upstairs.”

Jacob offered her his arm. Alice took it, a little wobbly in her new shoes.

“This hotel has several women’s shops, as well as a private tailor,” Jacob said, leading her past a pair of security guards to a private elevator, a stainless-steel cylinder that reminded Alice of an unlabeled beer can. “Shall I arrange for a selection of swimwear?”

“I’m super drunk, and in exactly the right mood to be pampered by a rich guy with a fancy hotel,” Alice said. “I don’t think I’ll need a swimsuit.”

The elevator took them up forever.

There was only a single corridor on the top floor, and only one door, right in the middle of it.

No less than three different staff were situated between the elevator and the door to the suite, and Alice found every door held politely open for her. Jacob stopped to make a few requests of the final staffer, a somber man in a suit almost as nice as the one Jacob wore. He spoke to his employee with a warm confidence that she liked.

She walked into the suite while they talked, kicking off her heels by the door.

The entry was large enough to park a few cars, but the living area it led to was simply enormous. She passed at least six different couches and chaise lounges on her way to the broad plate glass windows that constituted each exterior wall.

Alice stopped, dead in her tracks, and then slowly turned in place.

“That is a lot of view,” Alice murmured. “You weren’t kidding.”

“I would never dream of kidding you,” Jacob said, closing the door behind them, and tossing his coat over the arm of a nearby chair. “Do you want a drink?”

Alice nodded, still preoccupied by her surroundings.

The suite was several times bigger than any hotel or apartment she had ever been in, with acres of white carpet and enough cherry wood flooring for a basketball court. A sleek modern bar capable of accommodating a large party separated the kitchen from the living area, meters of spotless marble counter punctuated with Sub-Zero appliances, a Viking range, and an Italian ceramic backsplash.

Alice wandered through the kitchen while Jacob turned on lights, brushing her hands across the stainless-steel refrigerator, the handles of the Japanese cutlery, the line of brass pots that hung from the cabinets. Classical music played quietly from hidden speakers, and a flat screen the size of a mural hung on one wall. Opposite the television, on the other wall, a similarly sized painting hung.

Alice was sure she knew the artist responsible but could not recall the name.

Jacob came up behind her, a flute of champagne in either hand.

“I believe you’ll enjoy this vintage,” he said, offering her a glass. “You were fond of it when it was new, after all.”

She drank and smiled, wishing it were a little bit sweeter.

“Do you want to see the pool?”

“Yes,” she said, setting the empty flute on a glass table.

The roof was accessed by an automated sliding glass door. The air outside was warm, the heat of the day lingering, and the air just as desiccated as that processed by the hotel’s air conditioning system. The lights of the Strip outshone the desert stars, a dazzling confusion of illuminated motion.

Jacob led her past an enclosed gym and sauna, and then gestured proudly at the pool.

Alice thought that it was something to be proud of, long enough for lap swimming with an enormous shallow area situated at the near end, and glass-walled at the deeper opposite side, millions of liters of saltwater gleaming like a sapphire.

“Do you still want to swim?”

Alice nodded, and then beckoned to Jacob.

“You come here, first.”

She smiled drunkenly, and he hurried over like a dog to dinner.

Alice pulled Jacob close, and his expression was charmingly nervous. She almost felt bad, putting her knife to his throat.

“Oh, Alice,” he said sadly. “This is hardly needed.”

“I’ll decide what is needed,” she said, pressing the sharpened edge of the purloined kitchen knife to his gullet. “Who are you, really?”

“Just who I’ve said. Jacob Havel, hotelier and investor.”

“And the Founder,” Alice added. “Supposedly.”

“Yes, and that, too,” Jacob agreed. “Alice, please, you don’t need to…”

“Your protocol,” Alice said. “You can’t die. Right?”

“That’s it, more or less.”

“You were tossed into the Ether, and then Josef Martynova dug you back out, and then you ended up here, running a casino.”

“Yes.”

“Not at all involved with Central or the cartels.”

“Yes. Aside from the occasional light blackmail from Josef.”

“Then, just by chance, tonight I come wandering into your casino,” Alice said, grinning at him. “Which just happens to be around the corner from where Anastasia likes to stay.”

“That’s not a coincidence,” Jacob objected. “I have partnered in several investments with the Martynova family, and helped broker the purchase of that very…”

“Save it, I remember. It still works out pretty well for you.”

“I had thought so,” Jacob said, his eyes flicking down to the knife at his throat. “Up until very recently.”

“Your protocol. Explain it to me. Are you like the Anathema? Just a cloud of nanites shaped like a person?”

“The Anathema are a flawed proposition, based on a fundamental misunderstanding of identity. A copy of something may be identical in every sense to the original, but that does not make them the same thing. They are still two separate items, with discrete futures and fortunes.”

“I’m not sure that I…”

“The Anathema give up their lives to create a copy of themselves, with a limited sort of immortality, assuming they will awaken into the copy, their consciousness continuing on in a new vessel,” Jacob explained, shifting nervously when the tip of the knife pricked the skin beneath his jaw, drawing a trickle of blood and a grin from Alice. “Sadly, it does not work that way. When the Anathema dies, that story ends. The nanite copy might be identical to the living thing that came before it, with the same memories and motivations, but they are not the same being. They are something new, and entirely different. I am no copy, but the original issue,” Jacob boasted. “I do not die and then live again, I simply do not die.”

“That’s a bit obscure,” Alice said, getting very close. “What would happen if I cut out your eyes?”

“You are very fixated on eyes this evening…”

“Give me another flippant answer,” Alice said, the tip of the knife sliding up Jacob’s cheek, “and I’ll show you just how fixated.”

“That will not be necessary,” Jacob said, putting his hands up. “If you were to cut out my eyes, they would grow back.”

“You sure?”

“I am,” Jacob said sadly. “It has happened before.”

“I see,” Alice said. “What about your arm? What if you lost a limb?”

“That would be awful,” Jacob said. “But I assume that it would also regenerate, over time.”

“Like a lizard,” Alice remarked. “How long would something like that take?”

“Several weeks, at least. Perhaps the better part of a year.”

“Has that ever happened before?”

“Thank God, no. I’m just guessing, based on previous experience.”

“What about fire?” Alice asked. “What if I set you on fire?”

“Please don’t.”

“Answer the question, Jacob!”

“I would burn,” Jacob said, hanging his head. “It is an awful sensation. The healing from a serious burn, however, is worse than the injury.”

“Huh.” Alice’s eyes turned to the pool. “What about drowning? What happens if I hold you under water?”

“I have to breathe,” Jacob said, almost shrugging, until he remembered the knife against the skin below his left eye. “My lungs would fill with water, and I would suffocate, but I would not die. I imagine that it would be little different from my time in the Ether.”

“You ever feel like you pulled the short straw when they were handing out protocols?”

“When I was lost in the Ether, I thought little else.”

“I don’t blame you,” Alice said. “Who put you up to this? Anastasia?”

“No one had to put me up to anything. I was thrilled to have the opportunity to speak with you again. I was, however, informed that you would be in the vicinity this evening.”

“I knew it!” Alice grinned. “You fucking liar. Who told you?”

“An old mutual friend of mine and yours,” Jacob admitted. “John Parson told me and suggested that I might want to speak with you. I was naturally eager to do so.”

“The Anathema. Of course.”

“It’s not what you think! You and John have not always been in opposition.”

“You’ve lied to me already,” Alice said. “Why should I believe any of this?”

“It is the truth. John Parson was once an important part of your life. A friend, and more than that at times. As I was. Christopher Feld – a vampire you have perhaps forgotten – was another of our number. We are not your enemies, Alice. We are your admirers.”

“Fuck you guys. I’m not buying any of this.”

“You have forgotten us, Alice,” Jacob said urgently. “I know that you think that we are misleading and confusing you, but I promise you, it is John and I who are your allies. The people in Central you consider your friends are the ones who have stripped you of your memory and your rightful place in the world.”

“Yeah? And what is it you want to do to me?”

“A number of things,” Jacob said, with a coy smile. “Primarily, however, I would like to see you remember your true self. I have not spoken with John in years, before our recent conversation, and I cannot speak for what he has done, or for the Anathema, but I am certain that he wants you to…”

“He had me captured,” Alice said. “Tortured.”

“I do not always approve of John’s methods, but I trust his motivations. Whatever he has done, it was with the intent of jarring you from the fictions you have been trapped within and returning you to your true self.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“You are not meant to be an Auditor, or a tool of Central. You are so much more, Alice, you have simply forgotten it.”

“You’re full of shit,” Alice said. “Who are you working for, Jacob?”

“No one,” Jacob said. “I promise. I have nothing to do with Central, the Anathema, or any of this madness. John contacted me as a friend, and I have reached out to you with similar affection.”

“Don’t fucking lie to me,” Alice said, tapping the dull edge of the knife against Jacob’s lips. “No one in this world or any other gets to stand apart.”

“That may be,” Jacob said, “but I have tried.”

“Swear it to me,” Alice ordered. “Promise me you had nothing in mind but trying to fuck me when you brought me up here.”

“My intention was to rekindle a valued relationship, and to remind you of our shared past. I care for you, Alice, and I would like to see you recover. Whatever happened beyond that was simply…”

“You know what I mean,” Alice said. “Make me believe this was all an accident.”

“I’m not saying it was an accident. You are certainly aware of the Changeling, and her completely terrifying protocol? So long as she remains active, there will be no such thing as accident.”

“If there ever is,” Alice said. “This is all too suspicious, Jacob. I’m on extremely delicate ground right now, camping out at Anastasia’s place for the night, apporting back to Central to God-knows-what tomorrow.”

“A perfect night for having lots of drinks on the town, then,” Jacob said, with just a hint of a smile. “You may forget, Ms. Gallow, but your habits do not change.”

“Shut up,” Alice grumbled. “You aren’t the boss of me.”

“That is exactly what I am trying to tell you! No one is,” Jacob agreed. “That’s part of your tremendous appeal.”

“I wanna believe you, Jacob.”

“Then go right ahead,” Jacob said, gently pushing the knife away from his neck. “There’s no damage done. We could still have a wonderful evening. You can still swim!”

“You’re really intent on seeing that happen, aren’t you?” Alice’s eyes sparkled. “Don’t worry. I’m for sure going swimming in that pool. I just have to make up my mind as to what to do about you first.”

“You don’t have to do anything about me.”

“I do, though,” Alice said. “I look for things that fall outside of the rules, and then I decide how to put accounts back into balance. That’s my job.”

“I don’t see what that has to do with me,” Jacob objected mildly. “I’ve done nothing wrong.”

“Please. Either you are lying to me,” Alice said, putting the knife back at his throat, “or you are living so far out of bounds right now that I have trouble thinking of the rules you aren’t breaking.”

“What can I say? I’m not lying,” Jacob said. “I’ve been perfectly earnest with you, regarding my identity and my motivations. I only want the best for you, Alice. I care for you deeply.”

“Okay, but still…”

“I’ll be the first to admit how unlikely this encounter is,” Jacob said. “I’m not at fault for that happenstance, however it might look. This is not my doing. I just took advantage of the opportunity that fell into my lap.”

“What opportunity is that, asshole?” Alice smiled and moved close, her hips brushing against him. “What did you think I was going to let you do to me?”

“No, no,” Jacob said, flustered and waving his hands. “You’ve misunderstood!”

“I think I understand you perfectly,” Alice said, grinning as she cut his throat open. “I think I get it just fine.”

He clutched at his bleeding throat, his breath gurgling and whistling through the new aperture. Alice laughed and kicked him over, putting her heel on the side of his head.

“You all think you’re fucking enigmas, all you guys, bragging about shit that I can’t remember,” Alice said, tugging one of his hands away from his lacerated windpipe. “As if that makes you better than me. As if you have anything to hide besides a hard-on.”

He thrashed weakly as she peeled his fingers away from the wound, the blood pulsing out in little bubbling jets.

“You say you can’t die,” Alice said, wiping the blood from her hands across Jacob’s face. “That would be a first, for me. I don’t mind, though. I like a fucking challenge.”

Jacob’s struggles diminished as the red stain grew on the smooth concrete, twisting out from his neck like a crimson scarf.

“You think I’m a Witch, Jacob?” Alice grinned. “Wait right here, okay?”

Alice returned to the kitchen and started opening drawers.

She found something like what she wanted on a counter beside the refrigerator, sitting on top of an oiled butcher’s block.

She went back out by the pool. Jacob was quieter, and the pool of blood had spread further, but he appeared no closer to death.

“Guess you weren’t lying about your protocol,” Alice remarked. “I’ll be very curious to see how this next part works.”

She pulled his head up by the hair and showed him the cleaver.

“Which part do you think you’ll grow back from?”

Alice dropped his head and took a two-handed grip on the massive cleaver.

“The head? Or the body?”

She brought the knife down, grimacing when it bounced off the bone.

It took several minutes of demanding work, and Alice was covered in gore to her elbows and completely sober by the time it was finished. She grabbed him by the hair and set his head on one of the patio chairs at the side of the pool, turning his face toward her.

“You still there, Jake?”

His face did not move, and the eyes appeared to stare out, unseeing. Fluid leaked out of the crude cut across the neck.

“I’m still going to swim, if that’s okay with you,” Alice said, pulling her sweater off as she walked toward the shallow end. “You can watch if you want. Seems like the least I can do, you know?”

She swam, but did not linger in the pool, despite its gloriousness.

Something was off, and the experience was unsatisfying.

She paddled around just long enough to get the blood off. She got out and changed back into her dress on the roof. A brief search of the bedroom closets turned up a valise big enough to fit Jacob’s head, with a bit of shoving and pushing.

Alice picked up her shoes at the door, tossed the bag across her shoulder, and marched out barefoot with wet hair, leaving every light in the suite blazing, and the door to the hallway wide open.

No one said anything to her on the way out.

She met every stare that prompted them to quickly look away.

She walked out into the night that was finally, reluctantly cooling, feeling lost and frustrated and a bit sick to her stomach.

Seven

Day One

The Audits facility at the Far Shores had been ransacked for equipment and supplies, but the dorms on the second floor were still relatively intact. Alex basically carried Katya up the stairs to an available room, Eerie running ahead to turn on lights and open doors. Katya’s eyes were a gleaming void, her feet scraping across the floor as Alex dragged her down the hall.

Eerie held the door while Alex placed Katya on the bed with all the gentleness that his aching shoulders would allow. Katya immediately rolled into a ball, curling her knees up into her chest, her back to Alex. He stood there uselessly while Eerie pulled the sheets up, and then sat down on the bed with her, stroking Katya’s back.

The assassin moaned and shuddered, waves of grief passing audibly through her.

At least she stopped screaming, Alex reflected, standing awkwardly beside the bed.

“Is there anything I can…?”

“She needs time and space,” Eerie said. “Maybe you should take a walk?”

“I’m going to go talk to Emily,” Alex said, grateful for the reprieve. “She needs to answer for this crap.”

Neither girl responded, so he let himself out, shutting the door quietly behind him.

Eerie lay down beside Katya, wrapping an arm around her middle, and held her while sobs racked her body.

“I’m sorry,” Eerie whispered, not sure what else to say. “I’m so, so sorry.”

That just made Katya cry harder, so Eerie decided not to say anything more.

Katya’s grief and was wild and unrestrained. She would go into fits where she thrashed about, grabbing the blankets and tearing at them, or pulling at handfuls of her own hair. She wailed and gnashed her teeth, pounded the bed with her fists, cried out prayers or curses in an unintelligible blend of Russian and English.

Eerie embraced her and said nothing.

She stroked her hair and held Katya tightly, keeping her breathing slow and regular.

Katya sighed like a balloon deflating. The sigh ended with a whimper.

She held still for so long that Eerie thought she was asleep. She had just started to try and free her arm from Katya’s clutches when the assassin finally spoke.

“Is it true?”

Eerie was startled to hear Katya speak. Her voice was muddied with snot and tears.

“It is,” Eerie confirmed, peeking ahead at what they would eventually learn. “I’m sorry! I didn’t know until just now.”

“It’s not your fault,” Katya muttered. “Please, Eerie. What can you tell me?”

“Only what Alex finds out from Emily,” Eerie said, reluctant to put it into words. “The Thule Cartel bombed Anastasia’s fancy dance party.”

“Thule?” Katya’s bewilderment was evident in her voice. “You mean Gaul Thule? The Director?”

“It was on his orders, I guess. The bomb went off during a private part of the event, family only. Her dad died right away. Some other people, too, though I don’t think you cared much about them. If it helps at all…”

Katya had started to weep again, but quietly, biting her lip.

“…Timor saved everyone who lived. I guess he warned them, and then he protected some little girl with his…I’m sorry. Anastasia is promoting him to a Lordship, post…post-humorous…”

“Posthumously,” Katya corrected, sniffling. “Oh, fuck, Timor. I should have been there.”

“I don’t think there was anything you could’ve…”

“I could have died there with my brother, doing my job. That would have been…” Katya stifled a sob. “Something bad happened to me, a long time ago. I was still a kid, and it…I was all messed up. I couldn’t…couldn’t sleep anymore. I couldn’t be alone in the room with anyone else, couldn’t be left by myself. I wouldn’t let anyone touch me. I started screaming if anyone even tried.”

Eerie squeezed Katya tighter.

“He was the only person who didn’t scare me. He just left his post, without even telling Ana, and moved into my apartment. He slept on the floor during the day, and sat up all night, watching over me, so I could sleep. For…I don’t even know how long. Months. He never complained, never scolded me or criticized. He just listened and watched, and never left, even when I got angry at him and yelled and said horrible things.”

There was a strange intermingling of raw grief and fondness in Katya’s voice that Eerie had never heard before, something novel and painful.

“He looked after me until I felt good enough to go outside by myself. He always looked after me, from the time our parents gave us away, after I became an assassin, even after I became an Auditor. He always worried, always wanted me to text or call. He…”

Katya trailed off, sobbing quietly.

“This is stupid,” Katya said, sniffling and wiping her nose. “You don’t need to hear all this.”

“No, Katya, I’m here for you!” Eerie said insistently. “We are friends, and I…”

“Of course we are,” Katya said, sitting up slowly. “Can you find some Kleenex, or toilet paper or something?”

Eerie found a box of tissues on the ground beside the desk after a quick search. She handed it to Katya, who blew her nose loudly.

“You can’t let her do this to you guys,” Katya said, taking another tissue from the box and wiping her eyes. “You can’t let it ruin your day.”

“Who is she?”

“Emily fucking Muir, that’s who. Who else? She always seems to know everything. Does that bother you the way it bugs me?”

“Lots of things about Emily bother me,” Eerie admitted. “I try to be nice, but…”

“She could have told me whenever. Instead, she waited until you and Alex were about to…you know. Be alone.”

“But why?”

“Because she doesn’t want you and Alex to…”

Katya gestured and nodded. Eerie stared and waited.

“…hook up. Be together. Whatever.”

“That can’t be true! Emily told me that she didn’t like Alex anymore, that way, and I believe her.”

“I don’t know why you would,” Katya said. “Just because she doesn’t want him for herself, that doesn’t mean she’s willing to let you have him. Maybe she doesn’t want him to be with anyone else. I don’t know. She might just have a thing for interfering with other people’s lives. She could even think that she’s doing Alex a favor.”

“I don’t see how.”

“You aren’t human, Eerie. People are going to have a problem with your relationship with Alex. You get that, right?”

“I’m half! My mom…”

“Doesn’t matter, not to that sort of people. Once they decide that something is unnatural, that’s all there is to it. You should be ready for some bad reactions.”

“I know about the bad reactions,” Eerie said softly. “I just never knew why.”

“Get used to it,” Katya said brusquely. “I doubt that’s Emily’s deal, though. I think that’s just jealousy, or spite, or plain old-fashioned bitchiness. You can’t let her mess this up.”

“You really think that’s why…?”

“I think Emily knew it would hurt me, but it’s you and Alex that she was fucking with.”

“Do you think she might…I mean, Alex is probably with her, right now, and…”

“I don’t think Emily is that stupid, and even if she is, I don’t think Alex would be receptive. Not like that.” Katya glanced at Eerie, a trace of amusement crossing her teary eyes. “He likes you, you know? He’s really into you.”

Eerie blushed and looked away.

“He is?”

“Come on. You know he is. It’s so obvious.”

“I don’t know about that.”

“Oh, please. Get him alone for a minute and you’ll know, all right.”

“Katya, that’s not important right now…”

“Pretty sure it’s important to Alex.”

“That’s not what I meant. I think…”

There was a knock at the door.

A moment later, Alex let himself in, slightly out of breath and his face flushed, as if he had run the whole way back.

“Guys, I got Emily to…”

He trailed off, surprised to see them sitting up.

“Oh. You seem a little better, Katya.”

“I’m okay.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah. It’s…it’ll be okay.”

“If you say so,” Alex said uneasily. “I got the full story out of Emily. There was a bombing…”

“It’s okay. I know already,” Katya said, rubbing her temples. “Your girlfriend told me.”

Eerie and Alex both blushed, immediately turning their gazes anywhere except at each other.

“Enough of this,” Katya grumbled, pulling the blankets up to her chest. “You two go away. I need to sleep for a while.”

Alex looked at Katya with a worried expression.

“Maybe I should stay,” he suggested, pinching his lip. “Or maybe Eerie should…”

“I don’t want company,” Katya said, rolling over to face the wall. “I’m sure you two can think of some way to pass the time.”

“I’m not sure,” Alex said, giving Eerie an uncertain look. “Katya’s been through a lot. Maybe…”

“She’s right,” Eerie said, standing. “There isn’t much time, and Katya reminded me that we have important things to do.”

“Important? What are you…”

Katya sat up suddenly in bed, her eyes blazing at Alex.

“That oblivious act of yours is only cute for so long,” Katya huffed. “You’re just putting all the work on her. You sure ask a lot of your girlfriend.”

“I…I’m not sure that I…”

“Get out of here,” Katya said, rolling into a ball and tugging the blanket over her head. “Turn out the lights on your way out.”

“Katya…”

“Come on,” Eerie urged, taking his hand. “We should go.”

Alex hesitated.

“We only get so much time,” Eerie said, pulling him toward the door. “Shouldn’t we make the most of it?”

Alex nodded and followed her out, flipping off the light and shutting the door with the utmost care.

Katya waited until she heard the footsteps recede down the hall, and the door to the stairwell creak.

Then she lay flat on her stomach, covered her head with the pillow, and screamed into the mattress until her voice cracked and her throat was raw.

She wiped her face on the sheet, and then went to the bathroom.

Finding it in acceptable shape and the hot water supply intact, she showered quickly, and then returned to her dorm to dig clothes out of the mess someone had made of her closet. She chose old jeans, a bit torn at the knees, and a thin grey sweater that she probably should have washed, sneakers and a hair band. The belt she put on had a chrome buckle and a magnetic fastener. She had to stop herself from crying when she remembered Timor giving it to her the prior Christmas, his glee at demonstrating the clever latching mechanism.

She brushed her hair quickly, and after a moment’s consideration, skipped makeup.

She searched the wreckage of her desk until she found several strips of stitched ribbon, each pierced through with dozens of different needles, along with a handful of longer acupuncture needles, loosely bundled and fitted into rubber stoppers at the business end. One section of ribbon fit securely behind the belt buckle.

She located an old nylon flight jacket and tugged it on. The acupuncture needles went into the right pocket, while the other pieces of ribbon went into the left.

She stopped beside the door, and frowned at her appearance in the mirror, poking at the swelling beneath her eyes and the raw red area below her nose.

Katya paused to stuff her other pocket full of tissues.

Suitably equipped, she went to find Emily.

***

Vivik was alone with his windows.

That was starting to feel natural.

They hovered in front of him, a glimmering swarm of moving images, shrinking or swelling as he assigned them relevance, automatically catalogued by a self-perpetuating equation that he needed only to think about to activate.

No one knew how good he was at this, not even Emily, and that was immensely satisfying to him.

Even if everything else was turning out to be painful and disappointing, Vivik thought, sorting through his windows with detachment.

When he decided to assist Emily with her infiltration of Central, Vivik knew that he was risking his life and reputation. It had never occurred to him that he was also risking his friendships, but here he was, alone with his perspective.

He had risked it all, Vivik thought grimly, and he had won very little.

He had his freedom, though, and the time to perfect his equations, and the Vigil Protocol.

That was hardly something to sneeze at, but still, he was alone.

He put it out of his mind as best he could and focused on his protocol. The windows danced before his eyes.

The Auditors were in a hotel, which meant Emily had been right about Las Vegas. Alice Gallow was flirting with a strange man in an elevator, while the remainder of the Auditors were scattered about an adjacent property.

Anastasia was there as well, going through her standard preparations for bed, which required the assistance of a maid and took nearly two hours, in Vivik’s experience.

The windows automatically blurred any nudity, a privacy equation of his own devising, a development of which he was quite proud. He wished he could share its existence publicly, as he felt it might improve his reputation and allay fears of peeping, but it seemed likely that everyone would take it the wrong way.

Back at the Far Shores, Alex and Eerie were walking on the beach together, holding hands and talking earnestly.

He lingered over that a moment before turning his attention back to Las Vegas.

Alistair brooded at the fixed apport station, flinching every time a car pulled into the parking lot, and glaring at the overworked technicians.

The Auditors seemed nervous. Only Min-jun appeared to be sleeping. Hayley was agitated and pacing in her room, while Grigori watched a movie with an absent expression.

He turned his attention to his favorite window.

Emily was in the kitchen of her townhouse. She couldn’t have possibly known he was watching, of course. The Vigil Protocol was undetectable, easily evading psychic detection and anti-surveillance measures, so she could not have known.

She looked up from the vegetables she was chopping and smiled at him nonetheless.

Vivik blushed and hurried to the next window.

Alex and Eerie were still on the beach, holding each other in silence.

He watched for longer than he meant to.

***

They stood together on the beach, huddled against the wind that blew off the Sea of Ether.

“I missed you,” Eerie said. “I thought about you all the time while you were gone. All the time.”

“I thought about you, too,” Alex said. “I hate to say this, but your sister is a real bitch. I don’t think she likes me at all.”

“It isn’t personal,” Eerie said. “Samnang doesn’t make her own decisions.”

“I still don’t like her.”

“I don’t think that I do, either. She hurt you.”

“I heard you had a hard time in the Outer Dark.”

“Alistair is a real jerk,” Eerie said, shivering. “I’m scared of him.”

“Me too. I think everyone is. I’m still gonna kill him.”

“Please don’t say things like that right now. I don’t want to talk about that sort of thing.”

“I was just…” Alex winced. “Yeah, you’re right. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” Eerie took a deep breath. “I have confession to make.”

“Oh? Okay,” he said warily. “Go ahead.”

“I should have told you this before, but I knew it was wrong of me, so I didn’t want to say. When I put music on your laptop, I also invaded your privacy, Alex. I copied all your movies, and then I watched them. The cartoons. The Japanese ones. I’m sorry.”

Alex’s eyes and mouth both opened wide.

“That’s…oh. Listen, I…”

“Let me finish. I copied the cartoons, and I watched all of them, because I wanted to get to know you even better, and because I know…” Eerie blushed. “I know that you like them, and the girls in them.”

“You’ve got the wrong idea! Those are just…”

“It’s fine! It’s really fine. I think it’s normal. I think all boys are just…you know.”

“I’m not, uh, that is to say, I…”

“I tried to make you just the way I wanted you to be, even though I knew that was wrong,” Eerie said, tightening her arms around him. “I think it’s only fair that I try to be your ideal girlfriend. I want to try, anyway.”

“I like you as you are,” Alex said. “You don’t need to do anything.”

“I’d like to say that I would do anything you wanted, but some of the things in those cartoons, I don’t think I can…” Eerie hesitated. “I’m not sure anyone can do some of those things. I don’t know if it’s even possible.”

“Anime is weird,” Alex said. “Just because it was on my computer, that doesn’t mean that I want you to…”

“I can’t do all of it, but I did some shopping online,” Eerie said, lowering her voice. “I want you to know that I ordered a maid uniform, and I’m prepared to wear it, if you want.”

Alex could not think of a thing to say.

The wind whistled by them and the sand swirled around their feet. The horizon line between the grey sky and the Sea of Ether was invisible and silent in the dark.

“Really?”

“Yes, really. It comes up a lot, in those cartoons. A lot.”

“Yeah, I…I know.”

“That’s why I bought it,” Eerie explained. “Margot was angry, but I think it’s kind of cute.”

“I see. Uh, listen, about that stuff on my computer. It wasn’t all mine, and most of it was just stuff I torrented at random. I’m not really into all of it, or anything.”

“You like the maids, though. I know that,” Eerie said softly. “I’ve already got a school uniform, obviously, so that’s covered.”

“You are, uh, you are making me out to be kind of a bad guy here.”

“I don’t think so,” Eerie said. “I don’t mind. Alex is Alex.”

“You don’t need to change anything for me,” Alex said, running his fingers through her hair. “Don’t worry about stuff like that, okay? You don’t need to.”

“So many bad things happened to you because of me, and I know I can’t make up for that, but I want to make you happy, for as long as we get to be together.”

“I keep forgetting that you know what happens,” Alex said. “That’s a little weird for me.”

“I’m weird,” Eerie agreed. “I don’t know what happens, though. It’s all happening at once, to me. When we first met, and right now, and what happens later, and the end. It’s all the same thing.”

“I’m not going to pretend I understand, but the way you talk about…you sound kind of sad when you talk about it.”

“Every story is sad if you follow it all the way to the end,” Eerie said. “That’s just how it is.”

“Yeah. I guess so,” Alex said, staring out in the dark, in the direction of the Sea of Ether, and wishing that there were waves. “Do you still wanna be with me anyway?”

“Of course! More than anything. Are you okay with a weird girlfriend?”

“You can be as weird as you want,” Alex said. “I like it. I like everything about you.”

“You don’t know everything about me.”

“I want to, though,” Alex said. “I want to know everything.”

“Okay,” Eerie said. “I’ll share all of it. Not tonight, though. I just got you back, and…”

“Yeah,” Alex said, running his hand down her back. “I get it. I feel the same.”

She buried her face in his chest.

“I wish we had forever,” Eerie said, a little of the sing-song quality creeping back into her voice. “I like you that much.”

“Yeah. Me too.”

Alex held her tightly, turning his back to the Sea of Ether to shield her from the wind.

“Eerie?”

“Yes?”

“Were you…I mean, were you serious?” Alex gulped. “About the maid uniform?”

“I’m very serious,” Eerie said. “I left it in my room at the Academy, though, so you might have to wait a little while.”

“I don’t mind,” Alex said fervently. “Not at all.”

He stroked her back, his hand creeping steadily lower.

“I don’t, uh, I’m not sure if you are ready, or if, you know, if you want to, but I really…”

She held him close and waited.

“I really want you,” Alex managed. “Do you…?”

She turned her face toward his, and somehow, he knew that it was okay for him to kiss her.

***

Vivik minimized the window and turned his attention to other things.

Mostly Emily, wearing a white apron over her dress with high heels as she cooked.

She smiled, but offered no objections, and as he stared at the window, Vivik wasn’t sure if he cared whether she knew if he was watching or not.

***

She held his hand all the way to the stairs, her fingers caressing his palm as she slid her hand free for the ascent. She seized his arm at the top of the stair, and they walked into the dim hallway, more than half the lights broken or burnt out.

They stood, arm in arm, until Alex realized that Eerie had no idea where to go.

He took her to his dorm room, his head buzzing and his heart fluttering with a nervous sort of excitement.

The room was a mess, but that was how he had left it.

He hurriedly swept dirty clothes and manga volumes from the bed onto the floor, pulling the comforter across the mattress. Eerie smiled at him reassuringly, and Alex gently pushed her down on the bed, his hands trembling with urgency.

***

Katya found Emily in the kitchen, as she assumed that she might, her hair up in a bun and a spotless apron over her shimmering dress, adding a pinch of salt to a steaming pot fitted with an internal colander and humming contentedly.

“Let’s make this easy,” Katya said, taking a seat on the countertop beside a massive butcher block spread with tenderized cutlets. “Why did Gaul Thule want to kill Josef?”

“It was a bombing,” Emily said, tapping at the oven’s digital display. “I think that he was happy to kill anyone in the room.”

“He was the Director and he’s a precognitive. More than that, Gaul was – as I suppose you know already – a longtime secret ally of Ana’s. He had to know that Timor would see it coming and warn Ana. It makes no sense to use a bomb to kill someone like her.”

“Immaterial, you mean? As in Anastasia’s protocol?”

“I’m not telling you any secrets. You know way too many already.”

“That’s true,” Emily said, opening the oven to inspect a tray inside. “I came to Intelligence work late, but I think I’ve found my calling. Everyone seems to be terribly eager to share with me.”

“I’m not surprised,” Katya said, rolling her eyes. “Why Josef?”

“Why does it matter?”

Emily took the tray from the oven, steam rising from where her bare hand held the heated metal.

“Ana’s in charge now,” Katya said. “Seems to me that Gaul Thule wanted it that way.”

“That could be,” Emily said. “Perhaps he finds Anastasia a more sympathetic partner than her father.”

“Which would make sense, if she wasn’t calling for his head in retribution. Josef was likely to step aside soon, anyway, whether he wanted to or not,” Katya said, eyeing the breadsticks in the tray. “Even if Ana didn’t love her dad – which she did – she still would have been forced into a war with whoever was responsible for his death. That goes without saying. He put her in charge, and the Black Sun into a war with Thule, and I suppose the whole damn Hegemony.”

“I’d say that’s about right.”

“I can’t figure out why,” Katya said, reaching for the nearest breadstick. “Why would Gaul do that? He spent his whole term as Director trying to stop the Hegemony and the Black Sun from going to war. Why the sudden change of heart?”

“I’m sure I don’t know,” Emily said, slapping her hand away. “Those are for the salad tomorrow.”

“But I’m starving.”

“I’m making something now. You can’t wait for dinner?”

“I’m not planning on staying around here,” Katya said, grimacing. “As much as I should, to keep you from fucking things up for those kids.”

“What a shame,” Emily said brightly. “I’ll put something together for you.”

Katya grumbled but backed off, while Emily took an apple, a stick of celery, and a bag of spinach from the refrigerator.

“Since you’re in a cooperative mood, let’s try something else,” Katya suggested. “How do I get to Gaul?”

Emily selected a utility knife from the wooden block, and then made short work of the apple. The celery was sectioned just as rapidly.

“What an ominous thing to say,” Emily remarked, putting handfuls of spinach in a plastic colander. “I thought you were an Auditor now, not a Black Sun assassin.”

“I’m not actually sure whether I’m still an Auditor, but this has nothing to do with the Black Sun.” Katya looked away, her face creased with pain. “This is about my brother.”

“Aha. That’s what I wanted to hear,” Emily said, taking celery, yogurt, honey, and lemon from the refrigerator. “I can help you, then.”

“You can?”

Emily whisked the yogurt and honey together in a small bowl, and then chopped the lemon in half, squeezing it over the top.

“Isn’t it natural that I would? We are members of the same club, after all, and such extracurricular activities often lead to life-long bonds. At least, that’s what I’ve read.”

“Whatever the reason,” Katya said. “You can get me close to him?”

“I think I can arrange that. As it turns out, I have some idea where he will be, soon,” Emily said, adding the spinach, celery, and apple into the bowl with the yogurt mixture, stirring vigorously. “I’ll need you to do one thing for me, in return.”

“I knew it.”

Emily sprinkled a little dill over the bowl, added a fork, and then passed it to Katya.

“Am I supposed to help for nothing? You won’t mind my request, anyway. I want the former Director dead, that’s all. Same as you.” Emily took a pitcher of iced tea from the refrigerator and poured Katya a glass. “If I helped you out of the goodness of my heart, wouldn’t that be even more suspicious?”

“You’re right. That does make me feel better,” Katya said, munching on a forkful of salad. “The salad is decent, by the way. Thanks.”

“Oh, my pleasure. Sorry it’s only sort of a Waldorf. I don’t have any grapes.”

“Who wants grapes in a salad? I’m fine without. Do you have any hot sauce?”

Emily looked scandalized.

“You can’t put hot sauce on a Waldorf!”

“Fine, sorry. Didn’t realize there were so many rules for salad. Salt and pepper?”

Emily sighed and brought her the shakers.

“You have the strangest taste,” she complained, watching Katya salt the lettuce.

“Me? Come on. I never slept with Alex.”

“Of course not. He’s your cousin!”

“I’d have passed on him anyway, thanks very much. You and Eerie are both nuts.”

Emily winced just briefly before turning back to her baking, but Katya saw the lapse, and smiled as she returned to devouring the salad.

“Be that as it may, do we have a deal?”

“Huh? Oh, you mean you get me close to Gaul Thule, and in return, I kill the bastard? Yeah, we are good on that.”

“How wonderful,” Emily said, tossing flour on the countertop. “I think this is the best understanding of each other we have achieved thus far. We’ve made real progress!”

“Yeah? Well, like you said,” Katya said, shoving salad in her mouth. “We’re in the same club, and all that.”

***

The moment he put his hand beneath her shirt, his palm brushing against her skin, Alex felt a wave of euphoric dizziness wash through him, his body tingling from head to toe. He tried to slide his hand below her bra, fumbling and failing. Eerie smiled and pushed his hand away, then unhooked her bra and pulled her shirt off.

Alex watched, dazed and blissful, while she wriggled out of her skirt.

He started to pull off his clothes, his hands shaking so badly that he made a mess of it. Eerie helped him tug his shirt over his head, and then pulled him down onto the bed with her, their bodies frantically intertwined. Alex’s head swam with ecstasy, the nerves in his fingers singing out each time he touched her. They made eye contact and she laughed, her pupils dilated to the point that only the corners of her eyes were white, her irises a pair of narrow rings that shone with fish-scale iridescence. They kissed, a few strands of her hair caught in his mouth.

He brushed her hair away from his lips, and then paused.

“Eerie?” Alex sounded a bit awed. “Your hair is blue.”

It was, and not just the few damp strands clinging to his fingers, but her whole head of hair was azure, the color of water in a cartoon.

“That’s the way you like it. Isn’t it?”

“Yes, but…a minute ago, wasn’t it blonde?”

“Don’t worry about things that aren’t important,” she said, kissing him gently. “Be here with me.”

He sank down on the bed beside Eerie. Her skin smelled like sandalwood and her lips tasted of burnt sugar, while he seemed to be all elbows and blunt fingers. She laughed kindly at his clumsy attempts, and took his hand, guiding it gently beneath the soft fabric of her underwear.

Alex caressed her hesitantly, repeating the caresses that drew moans and sighs from her. Eerie bit her lip and tugged at his hair, her thighs trembling against his arm. Alex’s nerves resonated with every movement, tides of raw pleasure washing across the smoothened surface of his mind.

He kissed her breasts, and then moved slowly down to her belly, her hands pulling urgently at his hair. He looked up at her, her head thrown back into the pillow, framed between the white of her thighs, and hesitated.

“Would you…do you want me to…?”

“Oh, yes,” Eerie said, closing her eyes. “Please do.”

***

“I know we haven’t always gotten along, Katya, but you are Alex’s cousin and confidant…”

“I don’t know about that.”

“…and I’m quite certain we are going to be a fixture in each other’s lives for some time to come. I’d really prefer to be friends.”

“Noted.”

“And…I do need you to take care of Gaul Thule.”

“Why?” Katya set aside her empty salad bowl. “What’s so important?”

“He had my parents killed,” Emily said, suddenly very preoccupied with her dough. “It was all rather awful.”

“He…why would he do that? Weren’t they already…?”

“He had already stripped them of name and title when my sister joined the Outer Dark, and I…” Emily sighed, stirring the smaller of two pots on the range. “They had been confined to the old family estate since I left Central, subjected to telepathic monitoring. They cooperated with everything. They were harmless. As parents, they were not the greatest, but they deserved far better than what they got.”

“If they were no threat, why did he have them killed?”

“I’m not sure,” Emily said, rifling aimlessly through a spice rack. “I think Gaul wanted to know that I wouldn’t stay on the sidelines, or work both sides against the other, or anything of that nature. He wanted to be certain that I would get involved.”

“Against him and his family?”

“I don’t understand it, either,” Emily said, shaking her head. “Wouldn’t you say it’s similar to what he did to Anastasia, though?”

Katya considered it.

“Maybe,” she said, eventually. “This really isn’t my thing. Usually I just kill people. Nobody asks me questions.”

“Give it a try, maybe. Speaking of questions, I heard a disturbing rumor the other day,” Emily said, watching Katya closely. “I heard that you and Lord Henry North already know each other.”

Katya turned white. Then she turned her head and spat into the sink.

“Every time I relax around you, you do that,” Katya said, her color slowly returning. “Who tells you this stuff?”

“Various people. You’d be surprised. I know about all sorts of things.”

“That was a long time ago.”

“Yes, and most of the principals are dead. But as rumor would have it…”

Katya nodded queasily.

“You already know you’re right. They weren’t a big deal, back then. A Great Family, maybe, but broke and powerless until he married the heir to the Morales seat. People say his old man was the bad one, but Henry North is fucking scum, too.”

“I’m sorry, I really didn’t mean to make fun,” Emily said, wiping her hands on her apron. “I just had to know if it was true. I heard it was horrible.”

“It’s never a good thing, for an assassin to be taken prisoner,” Katya said, her face neutral.

“You were so young, though!”

“That probably made it worse. You know you can’t ever tell Alex about this, right?”

“He doesn’t know?”

“Not exactly,” Katya said, shaking her head. “I told him a little, when he was having a rough time himself. You know about the thing with the Weir?”

“In a hotel room in San Francisco,” Emily said quietly. “He was assaulted. It still bothers him.”

“It was bad, and he was feeling bad about it. I told him a little about what happened to me. No details. I didn’t say anything about the North Cartel. He never really asked any questions. He probably thinks that Anastasia had them killed.”

“I wondered about that myself. Why didn’t she?”

“I asked her not to,” Katya said. “I wanted to move on.”

“And you never did anything yourself?”

“I told you I wanted to put it behind me,” Katya said. “I’m not the type to get into revenge.”

“I find that a little hard to believe.”

“Because I murder people for a living?”

“That’s certainly a contributing factor.”

“It’s the opposite of what you’re thinking. Revenge makes you predictable and easy to anticipate. Assassins don’t live very long as it is. No reason to hurry death along.”

“I’m not sure if I believe you,” Emily said, working her dough energetically. “No offense.”

“You’re still not much of an empath, then?”

“I like to think I’m at least a bit improved,” Emily said crossly, rubbing floury hands on her apron. “It’s just that you have the most ambiguously colored halo.”

“Halo? What are you talking about?”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“You won’t tell Alex, right?”

“I won’t. I promise,” Emily said. “But, if you don’t mind me asking, why don’t you want him to know?”

“Alex will try to kill Henry North if he finds out,” Katya said. “That wouldn’t go well for Alex. He’s not in North’s league.”

“I suppose he probably would do something like that, wouldn’t he?”

“Alex is like a lost puppy,” Katya said. “He falls in love with anyone who doesn’t kick him. But you know that already.”

“Better than most.”

“Not anymore, I’d think,” Katya said. “You sure you want to host dinner tomorrow? You know what the two of them are going to be like.”

“I really don’t mind,” Emily said, straightening her apron. “That’s all in the past. I’m happy if it works out for them.”

“Right.”

“I really am! Truly. I’m completely over Alex Warner.”

“I’d be more inclined to believe you if you acted like it.”

“What did I do?”

“Never mind. Fuck it.” Katya hopped down from the counter. “How long do I have before we do this thing?”

“A few hours at least. Tomorrow is perhaps more likely. I’m not at all sure when it will be possible to send you anywhere.”

“Really? I thought you could just sort of walk wherever…?”

“That is a useful trick, but an exhausting one,” Emily said. “I’d like to see the fixed apport station working before we do anything. I don’t know where Gaul is right now, in any case, just where he will be, and that won’t happen for a day or so. We have plenty of time.”

“I can wait,” Katya said, looking very impatient. “I know you retrieved Renton Hall when you had me picked up,” Katya said. “Where is he?”

“You can see him in the morning,” Emily said, touching Katya gently on the shoulder. Her voice was powerfully suggestive, laced with soporific undertones. “You are exhausted, Katya, and you need to get some sleep, before you make a mistake and something terrible happens to you.”

Katya blinked hard, and Emily guided her into a reclining chair in the living room just before her eyes closed, her chin slowly drifting toward her chest.

Emily resolved to have Vivik transport Katya back to her room after dinner, and returned to her kneading, pleased to finally have a little peace and quiet.

***

Her fingers knotted in his hair, her thighs stuck to him. Bliss resounded between them, an alternating current that made his hair stand on end. He felt a tremendous heat when he touched her sweat-slick skin and a strange and pleasurable tightness in his chest, his body singing a song with which he was unfamiliar.

The Changeling’s body expressed her emotions chemically, psychedelic compounds activating in her sweat and saliva and pheromones, heightened by contact, by touch, by caress. Their protocols intertwined like an echo of their bodies.

It was the most beautiful feedback cycle, the best sort of vicious circle.

Her skin told stories when they touched, as if there were braille embedded in the smooth skin of her cheek or her breastbone, and the air was thick with the scents of sandalwood and jasmine.

She tugged on his hair, urging him up until they were face to face.

They kissed, their hands and lips moving of their own volition, the rhythms of heart and nerve in perfect harmonic accordance.

He was clumsy and thick fingered in his ardor. She guided him inside of her with her eyes closed, biting her lip, her face contorted with a sensation that was a distant cousin of pain. He sank into her as if she were a sun-warmed ocean, the taste of her still on his lips.

Eight

Day Two

Xia was waiting in her room when she slipped in.

He did not say anything, so Alice felt comfortable doing the same.

She dropped her bag on the carpet, not thinking particularly about the sound that it made when it hit the floor, wet and heavy.

“I’m back,” Alice said, yawning as she kicked off her shoes. “Did anything happen while I was gone?”

Alice pulled her sweater over her head and tossed it on the ground, revealing her intricate Tree of Life tattoo, every line of the massive tree and the Hebrew characters that surrounded it fresh and crisp across her muscled back.

“Good. Are the kids okay? Ready to go?”

Xia nodded, while Alice peeled off her jeans.

“We’ve got, what, about four or five hours before the apport station could go online, right? I was going to let it go, since we are short on personnel and experience, but I just can’t do it.” Alice opened the door to the bathroom. “What do you say we pay a visit to the apport station, and see if Alistair is still hanging around?”

Xia nodded as she pulled off her bra.

“I…I had a weird night.”

Xia just stared.

“I need a shower,” Alice said, a strange look crossing her face. “You get the kids organized, okay? We meet down in the lobby in twenty minutes.”

***

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. I appreciate the sentiment, but…”

“This piece of excrement would have killed you,” Daniel said, his boot on the back of the Thule Operative’s head, grinding his face into the floorboards. “If we hadn’t intervened, they would have…”

“I know what they did, and what they would have done,” Chandi said, with an expression of irritation. “I knew the possibilities before I agreed to join the Black Sun. I’m not naïve.”

“Why then?” Daniel ignored Aníbal’s muffled cries as he put more weight on the back of his head. “What’s the point?”

“Chandi is precognitive,” Simeon reminded him. “I want the bastard dead too, but perhaps she has seen something…?”

“I do not ‘see’, Simeon. It is all numbers to me,” Chandi explained. “I do not care for unnecessary bloodshed. That’s all there is to it.”

“But…”

“I would spare everyone, if it were up to me, regardless of sides, actions, or intent.” Chandi shrugged. “If you wish to respect my opinion, then you have it.”

Simeon nodded. Daniel grimaced and muttered curses, but he took his foot from Aníbal Estrada’s head.

“You heard the nice lady,” Daniel said, prodding the man onto his back. “She is a nice lady, isn’t she? You better be grateful, because I would cut you into pieces. You understand how lucky you are?”

Aníbal nodded, bleeding from the nose, his eyes blank and terrified.

“Say you’re sorry!” Daniel kicked him in the side. “Apologize to Miss Tuesday!”

“I’m sorry!” Aníbal screamed, reaching for Chandi’s foot. “I’m so sorry, Miss Tuesday! I didn’t mean…”

“You meant it,” Daniel said, stomping on Aníbal’s outstretched hand. “This woman is your savior. You don’t lie to your savior; you beg them for forgiveness.”

“Daniel, please,” Chandi said, touching his arm. “Don’t hurt him.”

“I can’t do that,” Daniel said, straddling Aníbal’s chest with a satisfied expression. “This coward needs to learn a lesson.”

“That’s not…I don’t want you to…”

“I will let him live,” Daniel said, sliding his machete beneath Aníbal’s wispy beard. “That’s all, Miss Tuesday. I want them to know that there are consequences to kidnapping and torturing Black Sun Operators. This is a preventive measure.”

“But…”

“Come along, Chandi,” Simeon said, gesturing toward the door. “We are not safe here.”

Chandi hesitated.

“Please, Miss,” Aníbal whispered. “Don’t leave me with him. I’m sorry! I promise, I won’t…”

“That’s right,” Daniel said, nicking his chin with the tip of the machete, a thin trickle of blood mixing with the sweat on Aníbal’s neck. “You won’t, will you? Not ever again.”

“Daniel…”

“Let’s go,” Simeon said, putting his hands on Chandi’s thin shoulders and guiding her to the door. “You don’t need to see this.”

“Yeah. Get her out of here, Simeon. Aníbal and I need a little alone time,” Daniel said, grinning at the sobbing man pinned beneath him. “I’ll catch up in a minute.”

Simeon continued to push Chandi along until they were walking through knee-deep weeds in the open fields outside the estate walls, the barn receding into the predawn darkness behind them.

“Will he…?” Chandi glanced back nervously. “Will Daniel keep his promise?”

“He won’t kill him,” Simeon assured her, alert for any potential pursuit or observation, constantly scanning their surroundings. “Daniel is an honest man and a good Operator.”

“Yes, but…”

“He will keep his word,” Simeon repeated. “That is the most you can expect.”

Chandi followed him in silence until they made it in sight of the road.

“I should thank you, shouldn’t I? I truly am grateful, Simeon. I was not at all sure that anyone would come, despite my prescience. When in such dire straits, it is one thing to know, I’m afraid, and quite another to believe.”

“The Mistress of the Black Sun does not abandon her people, and she does not forgive harm done to them,” Simeon said, obscurely embarrassed. “I was ordered to recover you, Chandi. It is Lady Martynova to whom you owe your thanks.”

“I will thank her, too, then,” Chandi said, accepting his help down the crumbling slope to the road. “My gratitude to you – and to Daniel – stands.”

Simeon paused to collect his kit bag, which he had left concealed beside the road.

“Listen,” he said, digging through the bag. “Your precognition. Can you…?”

“I’ll tell you everything I know,” Chandi said. “There is an excellent chance we will be attacked on our way to your camp. The probability that one or two of us survive long enough to rejoin the rest of the Black Sun is much greater than the probability of all three of us doing so. It is very likely that the Thule Cartel is already aware of your intervention on my behalf and is presently moving to prevent our escape. It is less likely that they will arrive in time and sufficient force, but not outside of the realm of possibility…”

Simeon shoved a harness with attached ballistic plating into her arms.

“Put this on, just in case,” Simeon said, tying off the mouth of the bag and putting the straps over his shoulders. “We’re going to move single-file and stay off the road. No talking, no lights, no…”

“Wait a moment, Simeon,” Chandi said, frowning at the confusion of straps on the bulletproof vest. “As I mentioned, I’m grateful for your help. With that in mind, I have one other bit of foreknowledge that you might find…heartening, I suppose.”

Simeon perked up as he slung his rifle over his shoulder.

“What’s that?”

“Ranking the likely candidates for marriage to Anastasia Martynova,” Chandi blurted out, blushing furiously, “I have Peter Rurikovich as the least likely…”

“That makes sense. He’s dead, or so I heard.”

“…and you as the most probable,” Chandi finished. “At least you have that going for you.”

***

The Auditors piled into a rented van. There were only four seats, so Grigori ended up riding on the floor in the back. Xia drove, while Alice alternately played with her phone and offered up occasional directions.

Hayley ended up sitting beside Min-jun, infuriated all over again by his apparent composure.

No one said much of anything until they pulled up to the anonymous industrial park not far from the airport that housed the apport station. Xia found a parking space beside the entrance and killed the engine.

Alice stowed her phone and turned in her seat to face them.

“Quick and quiet, okay, guys?” Alice grinned. “Assume that anyone you encounter is armed, even if they are one of our techs. If Alistair is still here, then he’s probably got everybody under his control by now.”

“You said ‘if’,” Hayley said. “What if he isn’t?”

“Then we’ve got an apport station,” Alice said. “Win-win.”

***

“I heard that you got to dance with Ana,” Katya said, smoothing a patch on an available section of Renton’s neck. “Would that make the debut a success, by your standards? Or did the bombing ruin it?

Katya sat back in the uncomfortable molded plastic chair, listening to the various chirps and beeps that the hospital equipment produced.

“I’m really glad for you,” Katya said, biting at her fingernails. “I know how much you like her. Shit, everyone knows. You don’t exactly keep it a secret, do you?”

Katya pressed the patch against his neck impatiently.

“There’s no shame in it,” she said, running her fingers along the cold metal bed rail. “We all fall in love with Ana, don’t we? She’s exactly as strong as you need her to be, and she always knows just what to say and do. I’m never afraid when Ana’s around. Does she make you feel safe, too? Is that why you’re in love with her?”

Katya frowned, and then pulled the starched white sheet down, examining Renton’s mangled body.

“Or are you just into women who look like little girls?” Katya surveyed the damage dispassionately. “Lóa Thule really did a number on you. I can’t imagine she thought you knew a bunch of secrets. Was this a personal thing? I know all your exes wanna kill you. I’m not sure that I blame them, either.”

Katya tugged the sheet back up and went over to look at the various monitors and illuminated panels that were stacked haphazardly around the top of the bed.

“That stunt you pulled at the Academy, getting held back repeatedly so you could attend with Anastasia, that was legendary,” Katya said, tapping the display on a cardiograph. “The other girls were divided between thinking it was the most desperate, pathetic play ever, or the most romantic thing they ever heard.”

Katya wandered back to her chair.

“I think Ana was annoyed and flattered,” Katya said. “More flattered than annoyed, though, or she would have made you stop. She never felt sorry for you, you know. She always loved you back, like a little brother.”

Katya shifted restlessly in the chair.

“That’s worse than rejection, though, isn’t it? You wanna fuck, and she just wants to cheer you on from the sidelines and make sure you’re eating properly.” Katya walked to the small window on the other side of the room. “I’m not making fun. I understand completely.”

Katya looked out on the view of the adjoining building, built so close that all she could see was row after row of windows, identical to her own, each showing a tepid reflection of the grey morning sky.

“I understand desperation,” she said, leaning her forehead against the glass, her breath fogging the window. “I know what it’s like to want someone and have them respond with the wrong kind of affection. I know what it feels like to be condescended to and tolerated.”

Katya returned to the foot of the bed.

“I always kinda hated you. I respected you in the field, obviously, but you were always such a pervert, it was tiresome. You wanted all the girls, but you were always so bad to them. You were like a free sample table at the grocery store for girls with no self-esteem; they saw you and just got in the line. I can’t deal with girls like that. I figured that they deserved what they got, since they were working so hard to get it.”

Katya sat on the edge of the bed, pushing Renton’s feet aside to make room.

“You didn’t have to be so mean, though,” Katya added moodily. “You started playing games with Sveta, and it bothered me how often you made her cry. You had this angle to everything, and it was always mean. Remember when you tried it with me? For three whole weeks you were funny and exciting and just-so-happened to be around all the damn time.”

Katya tried to laugh, but the sound felt wrong against the silence of the empty medical building.

“You weren’t my type,” Katya said. “I was bored, though, and maybe a little curious what the hype was about. I might have gone for it, if you hadn’t made it so damn obvious that you mostly wanted to piss off Timor.”

Katya’s expression tightened.

“I trusted you with Ana,” Katya said. “I knew she was safe with you. That meant more to me than you being an incorrigible prick. I can’t believe that you fucked up this bad. How’d you let it all happen? Josef’s dead, and Timor is…he’s gone. Ana’s a mess, I’m a mess, the whole world is a giant disaster and getting worse by the second. Look at the state of you!” Katya gestured at the tubes and electrodes that invaded Renton’s body. “How did you let them get to you?”

Katya checked her phone, stretched and yawned.

“You scared people, you know that? You were so good and mean, people couldn’t help but talk. You know how many times I’ve heard you compared to Alistair? Can you believe it? People actually thought you might grow up, eventually, and be on the level of a guy who’s basically the scariest motherfucker alive.” Katya noticed the mirror set between the cupboards along one wall and made a half-hearted attempt to fix her hair. “I know you told me that you did this on purpose, so you would have time to get into Lóa Thule’s head, but what was supposed to happen after that? Did you think that was enough? That you could just die?”

Katya leaned over the bed, looking down at Renton’s still face.

“Were you really gonna leave Ana to fend for herself?”

Renton opened his eyes and yawned.

“Jesus Christ you talk a lot,” he said, tugging electrodes from his chest. “Did you always talk this much?”

“Renton!” She punched him in the shoulder. “I’ve never been happy to see you before!”

“Don’t you mean ‘so happy’?”

“I meant what I said,” Katya said, grinning. “I can’t believe you’re alive! I really thought you were dead.”

“So did I,” Renton said, grimacing as he pulled an IV from his arm. “What did you do to get me up, anyway? I feel like all kinds of hell.” He touched his neck, fingers brushing the patch. “Oh. Another one of these things? Christ.”

“The patch is just to get your protocol working again and restore depleted nanites. Eerie is the reason you’re alive.”

Renton tossed aside the last of the electrodes, holding up the sheet to examine his body grimly.

“Eerie?” He looked confused. “What the hell does she have to do with anything?”

“She healed you, somehow,” Katya said. “I’m not particularly clear on the methodology. I think it was her spit.”

Renton looked at her in astonishment.

“I probably wasn’t supposed to tell you that,” Katya said. “Eerie will be mad.”

Renton laughed, and after a moment, Katya joined him.

“I don’t feel as bad as I expected,” Renton said, wiping his eyes. “I shouldn’t even be able to move.”

“Looks like Lóa got a little personal.” Katya gestured at his groin, where a few folds of the starched sheet hid the thin, shiny red lines, where burns had recently healed. “You think you’ll recover?”

Renton tossed aside the sheet and beckoned to her.

“Come climb on top,” he suggested. “We’ll test it out.”

“I’m not that happy to see you,” Katya said, laughing. “You never change, Renton.”

“I’m not sure that’s true,” Renton said, the humor leaving his face. “Where are my clothes?”

“You didn’t have any when I found you,” Katya said. “I brought you some of Alex’s stuff. I don’t think it’ll be the most flattering fit, but they should…”

“Can you help me dress?” Renton asked. “I’m still too clumsy.”

“Why not?” Katya said, shrugging. “I’ve seen your dick about a million times in the last couple days, anyway.”

“You could do more than see,” Renton said. “I can give you the full tour. Don’t deny yourself this rare opportunity.”

“You really are feeling better, aren’t you?” Katya picked up a plastic grocery bag from the foot of the bed and started laying out clothes. “Why are you in such a hurry to get moving? You’ve been in a coma for a day or so. Don’t you think you should rest a bit more?”

“We don’t have time,” Renton said. “Ana needs us.”

Katya took a T-shirt from the bag and helped Renton pull it over his head.

“Do you know something that I don’t?”

“I guess I do,” Renton said, struggling to fit his arms into the shirt. “Lóa Thule knew at least part of Gaul’s plan, and she was verbose.”

“Let me put your mind at ease, then,” Katya said, tugging the shirt down to his waist. “Lord Thule will be dead very shortly.”

“What?” Renton grabbed her arm. “Are you serious?”

“I am,” Katya confirmed, fitting his feet into a pair of boxers. “Can you lift your legs?”

Renton settled back into the pillows, and then slowly bent at the knees.

“How do you plan on killing Thule?”

“The usual way,” Katya said, sliding the boxers up his legs. “Emily Muir will do the prep.”

Renton was so stunned that he let her finish putting the underwear in place without saying a word.

“You’re going to let Emily Muir program you? You know what she could do with that sort of access?”

“I know,” Katya said, fitting socks on his feet. “That’s a risk every assassin runs, every time we work.”

“At least when you use a Black Sun telepath on a sanctioned hit, there are controls and oversight,” Renton objected. “Emily Muir isn’t Black Sun. She’s fucking Anathema, for God’s sake!”

“I’m not sure what Emily Muir is, or who she is working for, but I don’t think she is with the Anathema,” Katya said. “I think I can trust her as far as the hit goes, whatever else she gets up to in my head. She has good reason to hate Gaul Thule.”

“What are you talking about?”

“He killed her parents.”

Renton swung his legs off the side of the bed, bracing himself with his hands.

“Even if you trust her to want Gaul dead, what’s to stop Emily from doing anything she wants while she’s doing the programming?”

“Nothing,” Katya said, arranging the pants so that he could step into them. “I’ll be helpless. I’d never even know.”

“Are you sure you know what the fuck you are doing?”

Renton took Katya’s hand and stepped carefully into the grey jeans, grimacing as he straightened his knees.

“Not really,” Katya admitted. “What other option do I have? There aren’t any Black Sun telepaths in Central, present company excluded. Look, I’m not happy about the situation, but what can I do? Unless…”

“You want me to do it,” Renton said, with a grave look. “Suppress your personality, and program you to kill Gaul Thule.”

“I don’t want you in my head at all, to be honest,” Katya said, glaring at him. “It’s the best of two bad options.”

“Oh?” Renton grinned lecherously. “What do you think I’ll get up to, if you let me in?”

“I think you’ll embarrass me,” Katya said. “That’s better than letting Emily use me to hurt Ana.”

“There is a point where honesty becomes rudeness,” Renton said, looking away. “Putting your anxiety aside, I don’t think I can help you. Whatever this thing is supposed to do,” Renton said, touching the patch on his neck, “it hasn’t worked yet. I’ve got no telepathy at all.”

“That’s just great,” Katya said bitterly. “The worse of two options it is.”

“Why are you doing this?” Renton took the belt that Katya offered, threading it through the loops with numb fingers. “Did Ana order you, or…?”

“I haven’t spoken with Ana,” Katya said. “There hasn’t been an opportunity.”

“Then why do it?”

“Because I can,” Katya said. “Emily knows where he’s going to be.”

“You’re being rash,” Renton objected. “Think about it. Emily is not a precog, and she has no access to any of the precognitive pools. She can only know Gaul’s location if he told her.”

“I know,” Katya agreed, helping him with the buckle. “She could be working with him.”

“Wait, then,” Renton urged, sitting back down on the bed. “Ana’s on her way back to Central, coming for Gaul Thule. Wait for her, and we’ll go after him together.”

“No,” Katya said, placing a pair of sneakers on the floor next to the bed. “I can’t wait.”

“Why, damn it! Tell me the truth.”

Katya turned to face the window, her back to Renton.

“He already tried to kill Anastasia once, and nearly succeeded,” Katya said. “I can’t give him the opportunity to try again.”

“Lord Thule is a precognitive,” Renton said. “He’ll have seen this coming. Hell, maybe this is what he wants you to do.”

“He won’t see me coming,” Katya said gravely. “I’m going to have Emily blank me.”

“You’ve lost your mind! You can’t possibly take that risk.”

Katya said nothing.

“How will you execute, if she blanks you?”

“Pheromones plus a trigger word,” Katya said. “Emily claims to have sixteen precognitively determined words ready, but if that doesn’t work, being in his near vicinity for a few minutes should do the trick.”

“Why would she restore you once it is done, Katya?”

“She could do almost anything, I suppose, but then again, she might not,” Katya said, tossing the plastic bag in the bin. “We are in the same club, after all.”

“What the hell? You’re in a club?”

“Oh, yeah,” Katya said seriously. “You haven’t heard of the Rescue Alex from the Outer Dark Club? I’m surprised. We are super popular lately. We seem to be recruiting, too, so keep your eyes open. You only have to rescue Alex once to be considered for membership.”

“You’ve lost your mind,” Renton said. “I know you’re upset about Timor, but…”

“You have no idea how I feel,” Katya said mildly. “You couldn’t possibly.”

“We have a responsibility to Anastasia,” Renton said, grabbing her arm. “She is the Mistress of the Black Sun. If she wants you to assassinate Gaul Thule, then you know as well as I do that she will make that happen.”

“You aren’t wrong, but I don’t care right now,” Katya said, freeing herself from his weakened grasp. “Ana can be mad at me once I’ve made sure she is safe.”

“That’s exactly it,” Renton argued. “We can do a better job keeping her safe by her side.”

“Timor was right next to her, and it didn’t work out so well,” Katya said. “I got you up and running so you could do whatever you think is right, Renton. I’ll do the same.”

“This has nothing to do with protecting Anastasia, or the Black Sun. You just want to avenge your brother.”

“Think that if you like,” Katya said. “Can you walk?”

“Not yet,” Renton said. “I need more time.”

“Rest until you can get back on your feet,” Katya said. “Then go back to Ana. Keep her safe.”

Renton frowned.

“I hate to be the voice of reason. You know that, right? Still. You shouldn’t do this,” he said. “Emily Muir is dangerous, and Gaul Thule is worse. You are going to get yourself killed, or you’ll become a tool. Is that what you want? Are you trying to kill yourself, so you can be with Timor?”

“I get paid to kill people,” Katya said, opening the door. “I’m going to do my damn job. I suggest that you do the same, and maybe this time, take it a bit more seriously.”

***

The Auditors stood beside the metal apport platform.

It was the only part of the facility that was still intact.

The electronics and computers were destroyed, broken cases and shattered glass from the monitors strewn across the floor.

“They’re all dead,” Hayley said, gesturing at the gruesome remains of the technicians. “What the hell happened?”

“Alistair is an even better motivator than I thought,” Alice said, looking over the bodies grimly. “He got out ahead of schedule.”

“The apport station could have hardly been online,” Min-jun remarked, paging through the logs he had found in the debris. “The apport rig, maybe, but they would have had virtually no guidance or fail-safes…”

“Alistair knew we were coming,” Alice said. “He would have decided it was worth the risk.”

“We should have come sooner,” Grigori said morosely.

“Maybe so,” Alice said, patting him on the back. “We were exhausted, though, and we just lost Karim, Michael, and Chike. Do you really think we were up to taking on Alistair again?”

“Probably not,” Hayley agreed. “What do we do now? Alistair is gone to wherever…”

“Central,” Min-jun said, still absorbed in the logs. “He went somewhere in Central, but the destination is all screwy. He could have ended up almost anywhere.”

“If he didn’t die,” Grigori added.

“We aren’t that lucky, kids,” Alice said, kicking one of the broken monitors. “Well, no choice, then. It’s the Black Sun way home, or nothing.”

“I was afraid of that,” Hayley said. “This is terrible!”

“Don’t be afraid, Hayley. Everything is under control.” Alice put her arm around the telepath. “Remember – you’re an Auditor, kid. We aren’t scared of people. We’re the ones who do the scaring.”

***

They were no more than a kilometer or so down the road when they heard vehicles, distant but making decent time over the uneven dirt road. Simeon crouched down in the high grass and motioned for Chandi to do the same. It took a moment to find his field glasses, and another to locate the vehicles in the dim light of the impending morning.

“Three…no, four SUVs,” Simeon said. “Has to be Thule.”

“What do we do?” Chandi whispered unnecessarily, her face streaked with dust and sweat. “Do we hide?”

“They left a couple of vehicles at the bottom of the foothills. That’ll be a roadblock, waiting for us to try and break out. There’s probably a perimeter that we can’t see. Those SUVs will secure the site, and then they’ll search the area between here and the roadblock. If we hide, we’ll get stuck between.”

“Well, what do we do, then?”

“We need to move. The only question is how to get through whatever perimeter they’ve set up, without…”

“I might be able to help,” Daniel said, suddenly crouching beside them in the dead grass. “Assuming we survive getting there.”

“Daniel!” Chandi’s eyes widened. “How long have you...?”

“I just caught up with you two,” Daniel said, uncapping his canteen. “God, it’s really hot today, isn’t it?”

Simeon glanced back at the hills behind them and frowned. He pointed at a rising column of smoke, lazily climbing into the brightening sky.

“Is that what I think it is?”

“I set a fire,” Daniel said, smiling modestly. “Judging by how dry the hills are, I think the whole place might go.”

“But, that’s…” Chandi looked at them with alarm. “What if we get caught in it?”

“We just have to move faster than the fire,” Daniel said, pouring water into his mouth, and then over his head. “Not a big deal.”

“That’s debatable,” Simeon grumbled, shoving his field glasses back into his pack. “A fire was not part of the plan.”

“No, it was not,” Daniel agreed, wiping his mouth. “The situation changed. I had to improvise.”

Simeon hesitated. Chandi watched them both closely, clearly aware of the rising tension.

It was not the time, Simeon decided. Daniel was a problem that he would solve later.

“Come on,” he said, hoisting his pack. “Let’s get moving. Stay off the road. You can explain how the situation changed on the way.”

Simeon led, crushing the sun-beaten straw beneath his drab boots. It was a relief to his aching legs to be moving downhill, but his pack felt heavier than when he had arrived, straps digging into his shoulders and hips as he moved. Chandi followed at a small distance, the thorns and thistles wreaking havoc on her blouse and slacks, pebbles and coarse dirt sliding from beneath the soles of her sensible, square-heeled shoes. Daniel brought up the rear and kept a close eye on Chandi, grabbing her arm whenever she was in danger of slipping.

“You said the situation changed.” Simeon forced a path through a thicket of aromatic bushes. “What happened?”

“Aníbal was not the only Thule Operator who survived our entrance,” Daniel replied. “There was a telepath concealed in one of the back rooms. If she hadn’t knocked over something while she tried to slip out, I never even would have noticed her.”

“A telepath? Shit. Who?”

“I’m not sure,” Daniel said. “I didn’t get a chance to ask any questions. As soon as she realized her telepathic invisibility was compromised, she went at me.”

“You killed her?” Chandi looked disappointed. “Did you…?”

“A bullet to the head,” Daniel said, putting a finger gun to his temple. “The only cure for telepathy.”

“That’s terrible,” Chandi said, pulling stickers and barbed weeds from her pilled sweater. “What about Aníbal?”

“I kept my promise,” Daniel said. “He was alive when I left.”

“Do you think he followed you?” Simeon asked uneasily. “I don’t see anyone on the road...”

“He did not. I’m sure of it,” Daniel said, smirking. “I tied him to a chair after you left.”

“Daniel!” Chandi stopped in the middle of the trail, horrified. “You promised!”

“Relax, relax! I cut the cord around one of his hands before I left,” Daniel explained, patting Chandi on the head condescendingly. “He should have had no trouble freeing himself before the building caught. He seemed very motivated.”

Chandi smacked his hand away.

“That was not necessary,” she said forcefully. “That boy was a pawn at best…”

“A pawn who tortured people, civilians and Operators alike,” Daniel said. “He deserved worse than he got.”

“That’s enough talk,” Simeon said, glaring at them. “We need to keep moving.”

Chandi nodded, eyes blazing behind the scratched lenses of her glasses.

Daniel grinned and followed behind, his hands in his pockets.

Simeon pushed his way through the weeds, pausing occasionally to make sure they were well away from the road, but still parallel with it, and to check the progress of the fire behind them. The wind was cooperating for the moment, blowing infrequently and uphill, curbing the spread of the blaze. He moved as fast as he thought Chandi could safely manage, wincing each time he heard her slip, aware that a rolled ankle would leave him with a difficult decision.

The morning was as hot and bright as the perpetual cloud cover of Central would allow. Simeon’s fatigues clung to him and weighed him down, sweat pooling at the small of his back and in his wrinkled socks, making the interior of his boots slick. The air was dusty and smelled heavily of smoke, though it was mostly clear in their immediate area. The foothills were quiet but for the sound of their breathing as they struggled forward, and the crunch of the brush they forced their way through.

A stubborn thorn bush took a moment to navigate, leaving deep scratches along Simeon’s exposed forearms, and a sticky residue that made his skin break out in crimson hives. A gulley on the other side offered slightly easier progress, though they had to pick their way carefully through an accumulation of stone and gravel at the bottom. The depression provided a certain amount of shade and concealment, cutting a rough diagonal path across the grasslands, within easy distance of the nearby road.

The heat continued to increase, and the smoke in the air grew denser, fragrant with burning sagebrush. Simeon hurried them along as best he could, not pausing even for water, despite the increasing urgency of his thirst.

The sound of the engines did not carry well, but the sound of gravel crushed beneath tires was more obvious. Simeon called to Chandi and Daniel as he dropped to the ground, and both followed suit. Shedding his bag, Simeon wormed his way up the side of the gulley, peering at the road through dense mesquite. A moment later, Daniel crawled up beside him.

Two SUVs crept into view, one black and one off-white, picking their way carefully up the poorly maintained dirt road.

“Is that them?”

“I think so. That isn’t everyone I saw. There should be two more vehicles.”

“They must be setting guards,” Daniel suggested. “Something to trip us up if we sneak past this first lot.”

“Or they saw the fire and decided not to risk it.”

“Or that.”

“What do you think?”

“I thought you were in charge,” Daniel said, grinning. “You sure were acting like it. Run out of ideas?”

“If you want to turn invisible and slip out of here on your own, be my guest,” Simeon offered. “The mission is the important thing. No reason for both of us to die here.”

“I can hear you, you know!” Chandi called out.

“You can also see the future, or so I hear,” Simeon replied. “Should I pretend to spare your feelings?”

“I’ll bail if I feel like the two of you are completely screwed,” Daniel said. “I’d rather not lose a precog if I don’t have to.”

“You have a very strange relationship,” Chandi said. “Are you not friends at all?”

“We need to keep moving.” Simeon slid down the slope. “We’ll move further from the road, and…”

“Moving further from the road will slow us down,” Daniel said, sizing up the terrain. “It gets thicker out there. We really might get caught by the fire if we go that way.”

“Too bad someone set that fire, then,” Simeon said. “Do you have a better idea?”

“I’ll say something if I have something,” Daniel said, completely relaxed. “You’re doing such an excellent job, Simeon. I don’t want to mess with what’s working.”

“You are as difficult to read as your father,” Simeon said, pulling his pack on. “Let’s get moving, then.”

Simeon did his best to break a suitable path, but the bushes and thick grasses were resilient, springing back into place as soon as he passed. Chandi struggled gamely along, but her slow progress through the scrubland slowed their pace to a crawl.

He pushed his way through a thicket of intermingled blackberries and poison oak, and discovered a dry creek bed, the river stones beneath his boots as smooth and dry as polished bone.

“Come on,” he said, glancing back at the advancing wall of smoke, feeling heat across his face. “Let’s try this way.”

He helped Chandi down into the seasonal creek, and then waited for Daniel to climb down after her. She looked utterly spent and near collapse, while Daniel appeared fresh and untroubled. Simeon set off along the creek bed without a word, his head filled with a muddy stew of resentment and apprehension.

Their progress was much quicker along the stone floor of the creek, with a level surface to walk on and minimal plants and obstacles to contend with. They started to make time on the fire, the smell of smoke and the heat receding slightly as they went. Simeon got occasional glimpses of the road in breaks between the groups of bare elms and thirsty willows, tracking the progress of the two SUVs, which continued their cautious advance toward the fire.

“They have to turn soon,” Daniel observed, helping Chandi over the trunk of a fallen tree. “They can’t go up much further, or…”

“I know,” Simeon said. “We’ve got to keep moving.”

Chandi hesitated, staring back at the advancing front of grey smoke, now billowing black in the distance, where it was rapidly swallowing the former estate.

“There’s someone else,” Chandi decided, studying the burning brushland. “Behind us, not too far. The probabilities almost demand it.”

“Doesn’t matter either way,” Simeon said. “We are committed. Let’s keep moving.”

They hurried along the creek bed as fast as Chandi could go without falling. It was only timely interventions from Daniel that prevented her from tripping a dozen times on the treacherously smooth stone.

***

No one said anything on the van ride back to the hotel.

Hayley ended up seated beside Min-jun, spending the entire drive through Vegas traffic as far away from him as the bench seat would allow.

She glanced up as they neared the hotel, and noticed Xia looking at her in the rearview mirror.

Hayley met his eyes, and then slowly nodded.

“Hey,” she said. “Anyone want to watch a movie when we get back?”

***

They lay prone inside a thicket of brambles that worked its way into their clothing and pricked at their skin, watching a group of buildings a few hundred meters down the slope. Maxim stoically ignored the buzzing insects that pestered him and the sweat that dripped into his eyes, while Gabby flailed and swatted, cursing when the thorns dug deeper as a result.

He stopped scolding her after a few minutes, tiring of repeating himself.

“How long are we going to stay here?”

“Until I figure out what they are doing.”

“Who? Who are they?”

“The three down there in the brush. I know them,” Maxim said grimly. “Simeon Yurchenko and Daniel Gao. Black Sun Operators, and…”

“Your rivals, in Anastasia’s sick competition to kill my family.”

“That’s the one,” Maxim said. “That’s Chandi Tuesday with them.”

“That’s good, though, isn’t it? It saves you the trouble of having to rescue her. You think they are up to getting her out of there, right?”

“Oh yeah, if it comes to fighting,” Maxim confirmed. “Daniel’s probably up to it on his own.”

“Then all we need to do is climb that hill and go around.”

Maxim removed the scope from his rifle and stowed it in a padded pouch attached to his pack.

“We could do that…”

Maxim strapped his rifle to his pack. Gabby sighed and futilely tried to brush away the midges that continually probed her eyes and mouth.

“Or we could go meet your friends,” Gabby said. “Have you decided to introduce me?”

“Simeon might at least think about a conversation,” Maxim said, tightening straps. “Daniel, you don’t want to meet.”

“Okay, what do we do, then?”

“I’m thinking this is my last chance,” Maxim said. “To do something about you.”

Gabby folded her arms, and then laid her head on them, facing him with her eyes closed.

“We can’t just keep moving forward without a plan. You have the gun, and I’ve dropped my shields,” Gabby said. “The decision is entirely yours.”

Maxim looked at the gun on his belt.

“Yeah,” he said. “I suppose that it is.”

***

“Look,” Daniel said, pointing straight ahead. “We’ve got a problem.”

Simeon raised his eyes wearily, and then came to a sudden stop. Chandi nearly collapsed behind him, her hands on her thighs and her chest heaving.

“Smoke,” Simeon said unnecessarily. “The fire must have…”

“Fire is unpredictable,” Daniel said cavalierly. “We’ve got to turn around.”

“Toward the road?” Chandi gasped. “They’ll be waiting!”

“They’ll be waiting for us at the gate, too,” Daniel pointed out reasonably. “If we stay just in front of the fire, we might be able to hit those SUVs when they’re about to abandon their position. You saw how they struggled with that first turn.”

Simeon took another look at what was in front of them. Now that Daniel had pointed out the smoke rising from behind the hill, he was starting to think he could see the faintest glow of the flames, too.

“I’ve got nothing better,” Simeon said, shoulders slumping beneath his weighty pack. “Let’s do it.”

“We’re going to die,” Chandi said, her voice robotic in its emotionlessness.

“Is that your opinion as a precog?” Daniel asked flippantly. “Or are you just scared?”

“It’s not an opinion,” Chandi said. “And it’s not for certain. I’d describe it as extremely likely.”

“Worry about staying alive right now,” Simeon said, urging them on. “The future will take of itself.”

“That’s a common misconception,” Chandi said, limping on sore feet, the heel broken clean off her right shoe. “It never does.”

Daniel opened his mouth to retort, but never got the chance, as Chandi took a wrong step, and tumbled to the dirt, clutching her ankle.

***

Just behind him, Gabby groaned.

“Oh, God! They went the wrong way!”

“Yeah,” Maxim said, a sour look on his face. “Simeon and Daniel are brilliant Operators, but I don’t think either of them knows much about orienteering.”

Maxim glanced at the hills across the valley, where the red glow of a rapidly expanding grassfire was cresting the ridge.

“They must think the fire is only behind them,” Maxim said. “In a minute, they are going to realize they are headed right for another fire, but by then…”

“It’ll be too late,” Gabby said, grinning. “Do you care?”

“What?”

“Do you care enough to get involved?” Gabby gestured at their perch atop the ridge, opposite the burning hills. “We picked the right way. We can loop around the fire and whoever my cartel has stationed at the bottom of the hill and hit the main road halfway to Central. We could be there before it gets dark, if we hurry.”

Maxim gave her a resentful glance but did not argue.

“Those are your rivals, down there. If one of the four is already dead, then that’s your entire competition.”

“They would kill you in a heartbeat,” Maxim grumbled. “Let’s be honest about our motivations.”

“I am being honest. I’ll say it as many times as you need me to. I want to live, Maxim. I want you to live through this, too.”

“Why would you care?”

“I’m an empath, and it’s been an intense day and a half, filled with trying experiences,” Gabby explained matter-of-factly. “We’ve already become quite close, don’t you think? I’ve honestly never had a friend before. I don’t want to lose the first one I’ve ever made.”

“We aren’t friends,” Maxim said. “Get it through your head. I’m just buying time.”

“Before you shoot me?” Gabby asked calmly. “I suppose you’ll have to cut my head off, so your Mistress can have her sick trophy. Could you cut my head off, Maxim?”

“Shut up,” Maxim said, staring out over the valley, now about half alight. “I’m trying to think.”

Gabby smiled at him and sat down on a nearby rock.

Maxim watched the two SUVs that had attempted to reach the estate perform the laborious process of turning about on the narrow dirt road, taking turns maneuvering the four- or five-point turn for fear of ambush. Two other vehicles waited beside the stone gates of the estate, blocking the most obvious point of egress.

Daniel and Simeon were following a dry creek bed across the lowest part of the valley, toward the hills on the other side of the valley, making slow progress, likely because Chandi Tuesday was damaged from her captivity. He imagined that Daniel would be frustrated, but truthfully, she was saving them from walking straight into an inferno.

Any moment, and one of them would notice, and they would turn around.

If they ran for the road, they might still be able to beat the fire, but there would be no other option.

There was no place from them to go but where Thule forces waited, no doubt confident that they could beat the fire in their vehicles if it came to that.

“Come on,” Maxim said, tightening the laces on his boots. “We’re going down there.”

Gabby smirked but followed willingly enough down the slope toward the road.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Gabby asked. “I know they are Black Sun, but you need to think about the big picture.”

“It isn’t about Simeon and Daniel,” Maxim admitted. “You were right about that. It’s probably better for me, and for my family, if they get themselves killed. I’m not particularly fond of either of them, anyway.”

“Then why?”

“You said it yourself,” Maxim said. “Chandi Tuesday. How many precognitives of her class are floating around outside of the pools? Not enough to leave her to die in a fire.” Maxim smiled, though he made sure Gabby could not see it. “I guess you were right about that, too.”

***

Daniel finished splinting Chandi’s ankle, the smoke around them so thick that the hills on either side were no longer visible. Simeon watched the road through his scope, only able to make out the outlines of the two black SUVs through the ashen haze, barely able to contain his impatience as he felt the heat of the fire steadily increasing.

Simeon ditched the rifle and his pack while Daniel got Chandi back up on her good foot, her face as ashen as the air that they breathed. Simeon took her other arm, slinging it across his shoulders.

He tested the weight, made a couple adjustments, and then nodded to Daniel.

They moved as quickly as possible along the creek bed, the stones underfoot shifting and sinking with every step. Chandi appeared to be in shock, her head lolling to one side or the other in conjunction with their movements, whimpering when the going got particularly rough. The only consolation to Simeon was that Chandi was quite light, and he and Daniel were able to carry her far enough above the ground that only the toe of one shoe dragged through the dirt.

The fire moved faster than they did, if Simeon was to judge it by the heat he felt on his back. The air was hot and acrid, soot staining their faces and wounding their eyes. His lungs felt as if a heavy layer of grit had formed inside, threatening to steal his breath and choke him from within.

Daniel nearly lost his footing, sinking into the soft sand of the creek bed to his ankle, all three of them teetering on the edge of falling over in a pile. Simeon pulled them upright by brute force, his lower back complaining as he strained. Daniel extracted his foot, and they recovered.

There was no time to return Daniel’s appreciative nod. They lifted Chandi and continued on, following the dry creek blindly, the landscape so obscured by smoke that they could see nothing of their surroundings, or even be sure they were still heading toward the road. Simeon risked a glance behind and was horrified to see the orange glow nipping at their heels, the thin branches of the willows already alight overhead.

Through the slim trunks of the doomed trees, Simeon saw the headlights of one of the SUVs. He came to a stop, helping Daniel set Chandi carefully on her good leg.

“You two go ahead,” Simeon said, coughing up black phlegm. “Chandi, just limp forward with your hands up. There’s no way they’ll shoot you. That’s probably why they haven’t opened fire already. Daniel, stay nearby and do whatever you think is best. If you can make something happen, then go ahead. If not…”

“Move on,” Daniel nodded. “Got it. It was fun while it lasted, kids.”

“What are you going to do?” Chandi asked him.

“Don’t worry,” Simeon said. “I have a plan.”

Nine

Day Two

They spent the day on a narrow spit of beach an hour or so distant from the main campus of the Far Shores, a spot that Eerie wanted to visit. They had been there for a few hours, lying side by side in the weak sun or walking along the sand, before Alex realized that she could have never been there before, having only briefly visited the Far Shores in the past.

Thinking about the way her memory worked, he wondered if she was remembering something that had not yet happened, but he said nothing about it.

She held his hand on the way back for dinner. He did his best to clean his room while she showered and changed into clothes that Emily had found for her. She emerged from the bathroom in borrowed jeans and one of his hoodies that went down almost to her knees, her hair so vividly blue and wet that it looked freshly painted.

They held hands on the way to Emily’s and stopped to kiss beneath the eaves of her townhouse, his hands sliding beneath the hoodie to rest lightly on her hips.

Alex knocked perfunctorily and then let himself in as Emily had instructed. He held the door for Eerie, briefly conscious of the fact that he had never bothered to do that before for a girl.

The row of townhouses had originally been assigned to Dr. Graaf and the other senior personnel of the Far Shores, but they were now unoccupied, aside from the one that Vivik lived in next door, and this unit, apparently shared by Emily and Leigh Feld.

An odd pairing, Alex thought, frowning. He would have to ask Emily about how that had happened. Hadn’t the vampire girl been among the Anathema during the crisis over the World Tree?

Alex thought about Gaul Thule betraying Central and attacking Anastasia’s family, Alistair’s defection to the Anathema, and Emily’s peculiar involvement in just about everything lately, and wondered if the sides of the conflict had been rearranged without him being informed. He worried that he would kill all the wrong people.

He planned on killing a great many of them, so Alex felt it important to get it right.

Murder was not something to be taken back.

Eerie must have sensed the dark direction of his thoughts as they walked through the entry, hanging their coats in a closet and leaving shoes by the door, because she took his hand again.

He was briefly comforted.

Then he considered the idea of walking into Emily’s kitchen holding Eerie’s hand and started to sweat. Eerie looked at him in concern, squeezing his hand tighter and pulling him gently down the hall.

“It’s okay,” she whispered. “It’s only dinner.”

Her whisper was far too loud, just like the thudding of his heart in his chest.

Fuming at his reaction, he followed Eerie down the hall, making it within a few steps of the kitchen door.

Cursing himself for his cowardice, he freed his hand on the pretense of stifling a sneeze. Eerie watched him without comment, but Alex felt sure that she knew what had transpired, and he was sick with self-loathing. He pushed open the swinging door to the kitchen, well-lit and warm from the stove, and held the door for Eerie for a second time.

Emily was standing at the stove in a spotless white apron and a sparkling sea-green dress, a wooden spoon in her left hand. She was biting her lip and her eyes were moist from the effort of suppressing her laughter.

Alex gave her a resentful look.

“Eerie! Thank you for coming!” Emily said warmly, composing herself in an instant. “I’m happy we could do this.”

I’m an empath, you dummy, Emily said in his head. Why do you think you can keep secrets from me?

“Thanks for inviting us,” Alex said, his voice strained and unnatural. Eerie gave him a questioning look. “I still remember your cooking from…”

I know just why you wouldn’t hold Eerie’s hand in front of me. She knows, too.

“From Anastasia’s island, over summer break?” Emily laughed at him with her eyes. “Those were fun times. I think about them often.”

I know what you did today with Eerie. I know how you feel about it, and how she feels, too. It’s a bit impolite, how insistent the two of you are in making your feelings public.

“Thanks for inviting me,” Eerie said, taking Alex’s arm. “Is this a club thing, do you think?”

I feel bad for poor Eerie. She went to so much effort to create her ideal boyfriend, and you can barely pay attention to her.

“I don’t think it can be,” Emily said. “Alex is here. I don’t think he can be a part of a club designed to rescue him.”

It’s sad, really. Why are you so mean to that poor girl?

“Oh.” Eerie looked disappointed. “That’s too bad.”

She might be more than a little twisted, but she really does love you.

“We can do a club dinner, though,” Emily said, turning her attention back to the stovetop. “As soon as Katya is back and everything is settled. That would be fun!”

Not that it seems to matter all that much to you.

“Yeah,” Eerie said. “A club dinner! How cool. Can I – do you think I can invite Alex?”

That’s the worst part. It wouldn’t even be hard for me, would it?

Emily laughed.

She’s in love, and you would betray that in a second. All I need to do is show you the least bit of willingness, and you’ll come scurrying back. It’s more than a little sad.

“It just seems like a bit of a contradiction…”

Don’t you care about her at all?

“Yeah, I suppose,” Eerie said. “I should have thought of that when I picked the club activity.”

Okay, seriously, Alex thought. Shut the fuck up.

“We don’t need to do everything together,” Alex said, sitting at the kitchen table. “It’s healthy to have outside interests.

Your outside interests aren’t healthy, Emily thought. And you don’t need to be rude. You are the one with the honesty problem, not me.

“Is it really?” Eerie wondered, taking the seat beside him. “That sounds boring.”

In that general spirit, I suppose I should warn you that I’ve been doing some thinking while I prepared dinner.

“The world does not begin and end with Alex, I assure you,” Emily said good-humoredly. “You cannot let romance limit your horizons.”

You know how I said it would be easy to break the two of you up, and help you ruin everything for yourself again?

“It’s not that I need him around all the time,” Eerie objected. “It’s more about keeping track of him. He gets in trouble when I’m not watching him.” Alex could not meet Eerie’s eyes. “All the time,” she said solemnly. “All sorts of trouble.”

Well, like I said, I’ve been doing some thinking…

“That’s a good point,” Emily said. “I can’t say that you are wrong, but is it truly practical to put that all on yourself? You can’t watch him all the time. Maybe you should expect more from Alex? He should learn to stay out of trouble, so you don’t have to worry over him so.”

…and you should be careful. Emily looked at him seriously. I might have moved on, but the cartel girls are still going to target you, girlfriend or no. You are going to break Eerie’s heart, going around feeling the way you do.

“I don’t expect Alex to change,” Eerie said wearily, taking his hand beneath the table. “I don’t think he can help it. Alex is Alex. That’s just how it is.”

No one said anything, or even looked at one another, for what felt to Alex like a very long time.

Emily stirred something and then tasted it, not bothering to blow on the steaming liquid first. She nodded slowly, and then covered the pot.

“Not bad.” Emily smiled brightly. “There are plates and silverware on the dining room table already, the places just need to be set. Alex, would you mind…?”

“I would not mind,” Alex said, hurrying from the room. “Not at all.”

***

Vivik? Are you there? Is this working yet?

He took his headphones off out of habit, not because he needed to hear anything to use the encrypted telepathic channel.

I hear you, Vivik affirmed. That’s unexpected. The channels have all been jammed for days. Maybe this means the Ether is, I don’t know, calming down?

Could be, Leigh thought. Can you locate me?

The agitation in the Ether caused a bit of resistance, like the quick pain of a well-given injection, over before it could be remarked on, and then he was through. The window opened before him and saw Leigh crouch beside the burnt-out shell of a Hyundai light truck, the interior upholstery still smoldering. Leigh wore a track suit and impossibly clean snow-white sneakers and was looking around warily.

I see you, Vivik confirmed, taking a sip from the soda on his desk. Are you okay? It looks like things are intense out there.

That’s one way to describe it, Leigh said, her eyes panning across the viewpoint of his window and causing him to flinch, though there was nothing for her to see. I’m lost. Can you help?

Yes, sure, Vivik said, unfolding a map on his desk, and then opening several dozen windows with a sweeping gesture. You finished the second stage, right? The thing with Collette Higgins, and…

Yes, yes. Don’t think about it with so much detail, Vivik. We’ve no idea whether this channel has been compromised or not. You know Emily is distracted.

Right. Sorry about that. He swore quietly as he took a pencil to the map. Give me a minute to work this out.

It took him more than that, but only because of bad sight lines and limited perspectives. He found the burnt car in the field of view of a Thule soldier on patrol, the car just a tiny blackened dot at the edge of his vision, and then a second perspective from a nearby grandmother, peering out from the corner of an upper-story window, watching the road through a gauzy interior curtain.

That was enough. He found the place where the main road curved just so, and determined Leigh Feld’s position, doing the required math in his head.

I’ve got you, he thought. How should I explain it to you, though? If the channel is compromised, then anything I say will give away your position.

A little Q&A should be safe enough. I know that I’m on the right road. Question is…right or left?

The vampire extended her arms to indicate the two potential directions along which she might travel.

Left, Vivik thought. For…quite a while.

Leigh was already moving, low and quick, alongside the main road.

Timing, next. Should I walk or run?

Vivik called up a few windows and took in the current scene at the old Muir estate.

I think you should run, he thought, wildfire reflecting on his cheeks. As fast as possible.

Will I have company, when I get there?

Yes, Vivik thought, tallying perspectives in bewilderment. There seems to be a bit of a party happening. The guests that you expected, plus several surprises.

A party, huh? Leigh adjusted her sneakers briefly. I hope they haven’t eaten all of the cake that Emily mentioned. Have they started without me?

Vivik surveyed the scene urgently, alternating between Black Sun and Thule perspectives.

The cake looks intact, Vivik thought. The party might be going south, though. Maybe plan for a…a bunch of candles, I guess?

I think I get you, Leigh thought, accelerating over rough ground at a pace that would have made a collegiate sprinter envious. Good thing Emily assigned me to this one, huh?

Yeah, I think so, Vivik thought, watching the foothills burn. A very good thing.

***

“You were bullying Alex.”

Emily paused, her hands still in oven mitts.

“Maybe a little,” Emily admitted, shutting the oven door. “He deserves to be criticized.”

“You were being mean, and not just to him,” Eerie said. “Don’t you think it’s rude to have a private conversation in front of me?”

“I was hoping you would be more upset with Alex than with me. Nonetheless, I apologize. It was very rude, and it won’t happen again. Do forgive me, Eerie.”

“Of course,” Eerie said. “Will you be vice president of the Rescue Alex from the Outer Dark Club?”

“I would love to,” Emily said, transferring the food to serving dishes. “Don’t you think you should ask Katya first, though? Or Vivik? They’ve been with you from the start, after all.”

“Katya would just say no.”

“True.”

“Vivik lied to the club.”

“To be fair, I told him to keep it a secret.”

“Yes, but he didn’t have to do that. He chose to. Vivik is lucky not to be on probation.”

“I think you’re being a little harsh,” Emily said, drizzling oil on a dish of red potatoes. “Vivik didn’t mean any harm.”

“He’s not a candidate,” Eerie said firmly. “Members have to trust their club leadership. Otherwise, what is the point?”

Emily took her apron off, folded it, and set it aside.

“Eerie, I wonder,” Emily said, washing her hands. “The club. You’ve been a member of the Young Ladies Sewing Circle for a long time, haven’t you?”

“Yes,” Eerie said. “Since I learned to stitch.”

“I see,” Emily said, drying her hands on a kitchen towel. “The Rescue Alex…we really need a new name for our club, don’t we? Does our club have anything to do with the Sewing Circle?”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m not entirely sure. It just occurred to me that it might have served as a sort of inspiration, perhaps.”

“Oh. Yeah.” Eerie nodded. “It’s very inspiring. I’ve gotten all sorts of good ideas from the Sewing Circle.”

“I see that, now,” Emily said, handing Eerie a covered basket of rolls. “I try very hard not to, but I’m afraid I’ve underestimated you, Eerie dear.”

“You do it more than you think,” Eerie said, eyeing a silver tureen that Emily was filling with caramel. “Everyone does.”

“I suspect you are right.”

“You should be careful, Emily.”

Emily paused, caramel dripping from her spoon into the tureen, and smiled at Eerie.

“Should I?”

“You are a very important member of our club, and an important friend, for me and Alex both,” Eerie said. “I would hate to see anything bad happen to you, so you need to be careful. Especially around Alex.”

“Oh, Eerie, dear…that isn’t meant to be a threat, is it?”

“What? No! That’s not right at all!” Eerie wailed. “We are friends! I would never hurt you, Emily, no matter how bad you were.”

“If not that, then…”

Eerie leaned forward and lowered her voice.

“Alex makes very bad decisions sometimes,” Eerie said. “Sometimes he hurts people’s feelings, without even realizing it.”

Emily stared at Eerie wordlessly.

“I don’t mean to make him sound like a terrible person,” Eerie confided. “Alex is just bad at noticing things, even the most obvious things. You need to take care of yourself around him, Emily.”

Eerie put her back to the swinging door, pushing her way carefully into the dining room.

“You have to take care of yourself,” Eerie repeated, looking at Emily solemnly. “Because Alex won’t.”

“That’s actually really good advice,” Emily said. “Hurry back, dear, and I’ll show you how to work with spun sugar.”

Eerie hurried to check on Alex, and then returned almost as fast as she had come.

Emily laughed, and then they got to work. When Alex returned to the kitchen, Emily was flicking melted sugar over an inverted glass bowl as Eerie watched with an expression of near rapture.

Alex wandered the kitchen for a short time, poking at the finished dishes and generally making a nuisance of himself, hoping to attract either young woman’s attention, and failing entirely. Eventually, he gave up, and cleared his throat loudly.

“Uh, so, when is dinner?”

“Another ten minutes to finish up Eerie’s dishes,” Emily said, too absorbed in the spun sugar to even look at him. “Vivik just got here. Why don’t you go meet him outside? There’s beer in the fridge.”

“Yeah, Alex,” Eerie said, staring reverently at Emily’s handiwork. “Go make up with Vivik, won’t you?”

Alex muttered something to himself and trudged to the refrigerator, grabbing a couple of cans at random. He stomped out of the kitchen and down the hallway with the cans in hand, sullen over being ignored. He pushed open the front door with his forearm, and then nearly collided with Vivik when he stepped outside.

“Hey,” Vivik said, an uncertain smile flickering across his face, to be replaced quickly by an expression of concern. “Can we talk?”

“I think we have to,” Alex said gruffly, handing Vivik one of the two cans, and taking a seat on the stoop of the townhouse. “The girls basically threw me out of the kitchen and told me to find you.”

“How did they…?” Vivik sighed and took the beer. “Never mind. Emily knew I was here.”

Alex nodded and cracked open his beer. Vivik did the same, and then extended the can hesitantly to Alex. After thinking it over for a second, Alex clinked his can against Vivik’s, and then hurried to drink.

The beer was a porter, with the approximate thickness and mouthfeel of a milkshake.

Alex was not wild about it.

“She’s a lot more empathic than she used to be,” Vivik said, taking a seat on the opposite end of the stoop. “You notice that?”

Alex nodded, taking a second sip of the porter and finding the experience somewhat improved.

“Not to make it weird or anything, but do you ever think you might be responsible for that?”

“Yeah,” Alex said.

“And?”

“I might be part of it,” Alex admitted. “A lot has happened, you know? You can’t discount that. Emily has been through some shit.”

“Yeah,” Vivik said, wincing at the taste of his beer. “We all have.”

“That changes you.” Alex sighed and set his beer aside. “You wanna talk about it?”

“Sure,” Vivik said. “You go first.”

“Not much to say,” Alex said, shrugging. “Alistair cut me to pieces and dragged me off to the Outer Dark for…reasons, I guess. Questioning, maybe?”

“Anathemic conversion, more likely,” Vivik said grimly. “Like what happened to Emily.”

“That’s a disturbing thought that never occurred to me,” Alex admitted. “Eerie’s big sister got the first crack at me.”

“Samnang Banh?”

“That’s the one. You know her?”

“Not personally. Just from case files and my windows. Samnang Banh is an eastern demon, right? I’ve read about them somewhere. A Yaojing.”

“I guess. Whatever that means.”

“It’s another kind of Fey. She’s really Eerie’s sister?”

“Same father, I think? It’s pretty hard to follow.”

“That’s crazy,” Vivik said. “I thought it was insane enough that you were dating a Fey, but even weirder that her sister is a Chinese demon.”

“Family stuff is complicated,” Alex said, frowning. “I guess.”

“Not just family stuff,” Vivik corrected. “What did she do to you?”

“Torture,” Alex said, trying a noncommittal shrug on for size, and not, in his opinion, really pulling it off. “Psychic stuff.”

“Oh, shit,” Vivik said, with a look of horror. “Was it bad?”

“I got tortured,” Alex snapped. “It was fucking awful, Vivik. What the fuck?”

“Worse than last time? With the Weir?”

Alex closed his eyes.

“She made it last. A psychic thing, like in the Program. What’s the term…?”

“Time dilation?”

“That’s it. Samnang stretched it all out. Like being awake for surgery for years and years.” Alex shuddered and reached for his beer, taking the longest sip that he could stomach. “She said she was looking for something that Eerie hid inside of me. A part of Eerie, I think, whatever that means.”

“I’m sorry, man.”

“Yeah.”

“That’s terrible. I can’t believe…”

“Yeah.”

“How did you get out?”

“Emily pulled it off somehow,” Alex said sourly. “I thought you knew that. Doesn’t she tell you everything?”

“She skips the details, here and there,” Vivik pointed out. “We all risked our lives to try and save you, you know. Eerie, Katya, Emily, poor Derrida…even Leigh Feld! Even me, man.”

“I know that,” Alex said. “I appreciate it. I really do.”

“Then why are you so mad at me?”

“I’m not really,” Alex admitted, deflating. “It’s stupid, right? I know I shouldn’t be. If I should be upset with anyone, it’s Emily, and…”

“…and you can’t be angry with her.”

“Yeah.”

“Because she’s an empath?”

“That’s definitely a factor.”

“Because she’s your ex?”

“That, too.”

“Because you still like her?”

Alex met Vivik’s eyes.

“No, man. I already told you,” Alex said. “That’s done. I’ve moved on, and so has Emily.”

“It’s good to hear you say it,” Vivik said. “I know it’s none of my business, but it would be really mean to Eerie, if you…”

“I won’t,” Alex declared flatly. “Not interested.”

“You have all the luck,” Vivik said, grinning. “First Emily and now Eerie, and you didn’t even have to try!”

“This eye,” Alex said, pointing at his left eye. “It feels like a marble. It’s cold, all the time. Alistair sliced it in half, and then Anathema let it fester. I get these unreal headaches. The only reason I even have an eye at all is because of a transfusion of vampire blood – that’s what Emily and Leigh told me, anyway. That could all just be an elaborate joke on their part. Either way, I have an eye and a pair of fingers that seem like they belong to someone else. You remember what Margot was afraid of? Turning into a statue, basically? That’s what my eye is like, and the tips of my fingers.”

“Okay,” Vivik said. “Not my best turn of phrase, but...”

“You still think I’m lucky?”

“I already admitted to poor phrasing,” Vivik said. “I didn’t mean nothing bad ever happened to you. I meant that you haven’t done anything to deserve the good stuff.”

Alex rubbed his eye moodily.

“Enough of that,” Alex grumbled. “Tell me the whole story. How long have you been working for Emily?”

“With. I work with Emily,” Vivik corrected. “Not for.”

“Whatever, man. Just tell me.”

“She approached me before you went on vacation with Anastasia,” Vivik said. “I don’t know if she had already defected to the Anathema by that point, or if that happened after we came to an understanding. Emily always listened to me, you know? I told her about my ideas for subverting the cartel structure, for reforming Central, one day in class, before you showed up. She seemed interested, even then.”

Alex grunted and waited.

“She had some ideas of her own to contribute. We’ve cooperated since,” Vivik said, shrugging. “She has a list of people and places to keep tabs on. I do that and keep her updated.”

“What do you get in return?”

“Don’t be like that,” Vivik said. “Emily and I have similar goals. We both want to see an end to the old ways in Central, to the cartels and the conflict. It’s a collaboration.”

“So, you also wanted me to destroy the Source Well?”

“The Anathema World Tree and the Source Well,” Vivik confirmed. “It doesn’t stop there, man. We’re going to turn this whole world upside down, for the better. For everyone.”

“You trust her that much?”

“Emily has never given me a reason not to trust her,” Vivik said. “I trust my friends. That goes for both of you.”

Alex gave Vivik a wary smile.

“Man, how do you just say stuff like that?” Alex punched him lightly on the shoulder. “You’re full of shit.”

“I am not,” Vivik objected heatedly. “How so?”

“If you trust me, then why didn’t you come to me right at the start and tell me what was going on? Why didn’t you tell me that you and Emily had an understanding? Why keep all of this a secret?”

“If I let you in on any of it, you would have told someone five minutes later,” Vivik pointed out. “You suck at keeping secrets.”

“Yeah,” Alex said, pinching his lip. “That makes sense.”

“You would have at least told Eerie, but it was really Ms. Levy that we were worried about.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

“So…are we cool, then?”

Alex finished his beer, and then crushed the can beneath his sneaker.

“I probably only blamed you for everything because I couldn’t blame Emily,” Alex said. “Still can’t,” he said, with a rueful grin, “but it’s fucking childish and unfair to put it on you.”

Vivik extended his fist.

“Cool?”

Alex gave him a clumsy bump.

“Cool.”

Right on cue, Emily opened the townhouse door behind them.

“Are you two done making up?” she asked, her eyes twinkling. “I’ve been delaying dinner as long as possible so you two could have your man-to-man, but the food is going to get cold.”

Ten

Day Two

“Alex! Come quickly!” Eerie said, patting the chair beside her. “This basket is full of candy!”

“The basket is candy,” Emily reminded her, taking a seat across the table. “It’s all sugar.”

“I hope we don’t all have to eat candy,” Vivik joked, sitting beside Emily.

“Why not?” Eerie glanced at him, her hand hovering over the sugar-work basket, which contained an assortment of caramels, jellies, and marshmallows. “It’s candy! Everyone likes candy.”

“Tastes vary,” Alex said, taking the seat next to Eerie. “Not all of us are immune to diabetes.” His expression turned unsettled. “You – you are immune to diabetes, right, Eerie?”

“I don’t know about immune,” Vivik said, “but I doubt any of us are particularly susceptible to diabetes. The nanites balance blood sugar and insulin as needed.”

“Shall we start with salad?” Emily suggested, passing the wooden bowl to Alex. “There are breadsticks, as well.”

“Now that I think about it, Emily told me something interesting about that,” Alex said, piling salad on his plate. “She said the nanites aren’t machines at all. They are…”

“No cartel business during dinner, please,” Emily said, with a pained expression. “That was my family rule.”

“It’s nothing cartel!” Alex objected, pushing the salad bowl back across the table. “This is something completely different.”

“Business is business,” Vivik said, helping himself to salad. “I think Emily is right.”

“Yeah,” Eerie agreed. “Let’s talk about something fun.”

“Something fun? Hmm.” Emily snapped a breadstick in half, and then took a bite off the shorter end. “It’s a nice idea, but we are experiencing difficult times, as of late. I’m not sure I can think of many fun topics.”

“I can think of a couple,” Renton said, pale and leaning heavily against the door frame. “I’m fucking great dinner company, I promise, even in this sorry state. Do you have an extra plate handy?”

***

The flames had a digital quality up close, their pink and orange hues so vibrant that Maxim’s eyes hunted automatically for pixels. The heat was like a wall at ten meters, but at five, it was a barrier that he had to push through, like walking through mud. His skin poured sweat beneath his gear and ballistic armor, sweat collecting at his elbows, his belt line, and dripping down his legs. The air was filled with the crackle-snap of burning brush and the agitated chatter of the birds fleeing ahead of the grassfire. Breathing the heated air was painful, worse than the coughing fit Maxim had experienced the time he tried smoking pot at university, and the smoke wormed behind his goggles to torment his mucous membranes.

Delphi, as always, was a godsend, highlighting a safe path forward in cool blue footprints superimposed on the ground, while helpful outlines highlighted the positions of the forces arrayed in the area, color-coded to indicate loyalties and estimated threat level. If Maxim allowed his eye to linger on one of the outlines, a telepathic briefing would unreel in his mind, supplemented by ghostly graphs and text boxes.

He had been warned by veterans during his training that intelligence was not everything – not when it came to the field and its intrigues and base treacheries. They were thinking of the sort of intel one receives in a debrief or a manila folder, to be read only in the room where it was issued, but to Maxim, that was as antiquated as the Sunday paper.

There was a wealth of data collected by the human nervous system, most of it discarded as unnecessary by the conscious mind. Delphi drank deep from this flow of data, discarding nothing, and cross-referencing all of it instantly. Maxim could not even register the sound of the engines over the sound of the fire on the ridge to their right and the exertions of Operators moving rapidly on the rough trail, but Delphi dissected his audio input and picked out the purr of internal combustion easily, providing an ID for the make and model. She identified rifles and probable sidearms by the silhouettes.

Accessing a wealth of tactical information from Maxim’s memory, Delphi analyzed everything that she took in, and offered a constantly evolving set of hypotheses, equations for mission success and survival upon which Maxim depended. Delphi’s concern bordered on smothering, continually finding ways to remind him that the second SUV had crept into a flanking position, based on the probable spot that Daniel and Simeon were likely to emerge, a heavily accessorized M4 rifle carefully situated atop the vehicle, wielded via a top hatch.

Gabby caught up to him and put her hand on his shoulder.

He shrugged it off.

“Don’t be a jerk,” Gabby said, a bandana across her face to shield her from the smoke. “Let me help you.”

She touched him. Delphi issued a query.

Maxim acceded with a sour expression.

His perceptions swirled and defocused, and Maxim felt as if he might faint.

Delphi chimed happily, and his senses resumed their normal function. A telepathic prompt informed him of a new filter.

Maxim activated it gingerly, wincing as if he expected it to hurt.

It did hurt, but no worse than a flu shot.

Delphi’s overlay was absurdly enriched, dripping with bright gobs of new information, emotional data gleaned from Gabby’s protocol cross-referenced with positional data from remote viewing, telepathic chatter informing Delphi’s mathematical models and projections.

“Okay,” Maxim said, taking it all in in a single pass. “This will work.”

Both sides were shielded, limiting the amount of information that a passive inquiry could net, but there was only so much that could be done to suppress Etheric Signatures, readied protocols, and the heightened tension that accompanies such prebattle exercises.

Maxim sensed nothing but steely determination radiating from Daniel, as he would have expected, but Simeon’s contained despair was noticeable. Chandi Tuesday was in a fog of pain, exhaustion, and predestination, moving along toward her death with quiet resignation.

That was in line with what he might have expected.

Maxim shook his head.

This sort of access was dizzying, Maxim thought giddily. He looked at Gabby with new respect, and she smiled, understanding him perfectly.

I should have shot you when I first saw you, when you were still no one to me, Maxim thought. Now what am I going to do?

Don’t think things like that, Gabby scolded. Keep your mind on the Operation.

He grunted and moved down the trail, counting on the pervasive smoke to hide their movements as they closed in on the SUVs. Delphi poked at him, having just digested another full stomach worth of data.

The Thule troops’ emotional state was unusual, by Maxim’s or Gabby’s standards.

They were trained soldiers, as he had suspected, mostly Operators or recently retired, and they were well-equipped and prepared. They held a decisive advantage in intelligence and position, not to mention firepower. The Thule forces waited safely within armored vehicles, automatic weapons and direct energy protocols aimed and waiting for their nearly helpless quarry to emerge from the burning brush and greasy smoke. There was nothing for them to be anxious over. They should have been as bored and content as hunters waiting in a deer blind.

That was not what Gabby’s protocol was getting, peeking around the corners of their mental shields.

The Thule soldiers were unsettled, even nervous.

They did not understand what they were doing or why they were doing it, even more so than is usual for personnel in the field. They had received alarming intelligence that morning, Delphi theorized, offering guesses as to what in their briefings might have unsettled them.

“Interesting,” Maxim said, eyeing the heavily armored SUV out near the main road. “I wonder what got them rattled?”

“We’ll find out,” Gabby said. “First things first. What do we do about your friends?”

He wanted to protest, to remind her that they were not friends, but the air was too hot to argue.

Download authorized, Delphi, Maxim thought. Let Gabby in on it.

The young woman winced as the telepathic briefing was forcibly implanted in her mind, and Maxim felt some sympathy.

Delphi was never any gentler than she needed to be.

“I got it,” Gabby said, nodding as she wiped blood from her nose onto her knuckles. “Not a bad plan, really. I have just one suggestion, if you don’t mind…”

***

“I suppose this means that you plan to live,” Emily observed. “That’s good for you, at least.”

Renton laughed as she put out silverware for him.

“You don’t sound too happy about it,” Renton said. “I was just about to thank you for having your vampire rescue me.”

“You don’t have to thank me,” Emily explained, heading into the kitchen. “I’m not one to pass up the opportunity to do Anastasia a favor.”

“Wow,” Renton said good-humoredly. “She’s figured it all out, hasn’t she? Emily used to be such a nice girl.”

Emily returned with a plate of food and a look of affront.

“Are you saying I’m not nice?” She glanced at the plate in her hands. “I don’t have to feed you, Renton. You won’t starve so easily.”

“Don’t take it the wrong way! I mean it as a compliment,” Renton insisted, fork and knife already in hand. “I like a woman who takes charge. It’s a turn-on.”

“That’s another thing I didn’t need to hear,” Emily said, putting the plate in front of him and returning to her seat. “Please behave yourself.”

Renton grunted and tucked into dinner.

“I’m glad you’re not dead, man,” Vivik said. “What happened to you?”

“I tried to take down Lóa Thule. I still don’t think it was a bad plan, but it turns out I’m the world’s worst double agent. I don’t think I fooled anyone,” Renton said, around a mouthful of food. “I figured out her protocol eventually, but that took hours of torture. Her torturing me, I mean. Would’ve been fine the other way around,” Renton said, grinning. “Fun, even.”

“Gross,” Eerie whispered. “You are so gross.”

“She’s not wrong,” Emily agreed, sipping from her water glass. “I have no idea what Anastasia sees in you.”

“Don’t be like that, ladies,” Renton said. “Nobody likes a mean girl. Like Lóa, for example. She was a real piece of work, let me tell you. By the time I figured her out, I was hanging by a meat hook with electrodes on my feet and tongue and dick.” Renton laughed at Alex and Vivik’s discomfort. “Wasn’t much I could do but bleed and twitch, you know?”

“I do,” Alex said queasily. “I wish I didn’t, but I get it.”

“I guess we’ve all been through some shit,” Renton said, shrugging. “Anyway, long story short, Katya showed up, beat Lóa to death, and saved my life.”

“I know how that goes, too,” Alex said. “Katya has excellent timing.”

“I would have preferred if she showed up a little sooner,” Renton said. “I don’t even know if my junk works anymore, you know?”

“You are disgusting. And wrong about at least one thing,” Emily said. “Katya didn’t kill Lóa Thule.”

“Are you sure?” Renton shook his head. “She did a real number on her with a blunt object, let me tell you. Her head looked all funny, after Katya was done.”

“Yeah,” Eerie said, shuddering. “It was awful.”

“Be that as it may,” Emily said, patting Eerie’s hand from across the table. “Lóa was rushed to the Thule estate a few hours ago, according to what I’ve heard. In a very bad state, but she wasn’t dead.”

“I only wish I was so well-informed,” Renton said. “Seriously, I’m impressed. How did you hear all of this, Emily?”

“I don’t plan to say,” Emily said. “You can trust the information, though. My sources are impeccable.”

“I’m blown away,” Renton said, holding out his empty plate to her. “You’ve really got it all figured out, don’t you? All this, and you can cook, too. You’re an idiot, Alex, you know that?”

Eerie mumbled something inaudible, while Emily rolled her eyes.

“I know it,” Alex said. “That’s not a secret.”

***

The hill offered perhaps two hundred meters of elevation, but the soupy, stifling air stole the oxygen from his lungs and sapped his stamina, making the climb arduous. Maxim was drenched in sweat before he was a third of the way up, the sole of one of his boots loosened by the heat and flapping freely with each step. A mixture of dust and ash coated his sinuses and settled in his lungs like a blanket spread across the cilia. Gabby fell behind, waving him ahead with a scarf wrapped loosely around her face and neck to keep out the smoke.

Maxim forced himself up the grade, stopping occasionally to cough up black gunk on the brown grass. He fell to his knees at the top, and it was another minute before he collected himself enough to unroll his rifle and take a prone position behind it.

He found Gabby in the scope, a little more than halfway up the hill, and considered the crosshair that Delphi conveniently applied to her head, wrapped in a sweat-stained checkerboard scarf. He put his finger on the trigger, then sighed deeply and panned over to the armored SUV, in time to see the rear doors open.

Three people stepped out, wearing full-face respirators, the kind used by firefighters, an oxygen tank strapped to each of their backs. That and the bulk of the ballistic armor they wore delayed Delphi’s identification process, but Maxim was not overly worried.

It would be much easier to ID the bodies, after all.

Delphi thought they were two men and a woman, two carrying shotguns, and another wielding a squat FAL gun that straddled the line between a battle rifle and a submachine gun. Analysis of body language indicated unease and a very high level of stress, maybe even fear.

That lined up with what Gabby’s protocol indicated. Something had spooked this unit before they’d even contacted the enemy. It could have been the fire, of course, but that seemed an overreaction to Maxim.

The road was clear, and their vehicle was easily capable of outrunning the blaze.

He checked the brush on the other side of the road, just ahead of the fire, and saw nothing. That was where they had to be, though – Simeon and Daniel and Chandi, crouching somewhere in the sagebrush and smoke, trying to judge the best moment to charge out of cover and into combat.

Maxim checked on Gabby, and found her not too far below, hands on knees, gasping through her scarf. Delphi prodded him gently, but Maxim did not give it any real consideration.

If he killed her, he decided, it would be face to face.

He returned to the Thule troops, adjusting his scope slightly to account for the poor visibility, more out of habit than necessity.

Delphi made the scope almost redundant, an artifact of his pre-Activation training. In a pinch, he could fire accurately to around two hundred meters, even without iron sights. He had done it before, with lethal results.

Today, however, he wanted any possible edge.

If it were him, Maxim thought, he would send Daniel Gao first, taking advantage of his invisibility, probably with Simeon acting as a sniper from somewhere in the brush, providing supporting fire from a place of concealment. That was the obvious thing to do.

So obvious that the Thule forces would be expecting exactly that. It seemed overwhelmingly likely that they had planned for exactly that scenario, but Delphi was still struggling with their telepathic encryption, unable to scan deeply enough to give him that sort of insight.

It seemed a safe assumption.

Would that make Simeon and Daniel change plans?

It would be risky to go forward, knowing that they would be facing an enemy expecting them to attack in exactly that manner, but any other approach would mitigate their strengths, rather than accenting them. A frontal assault, for example, would be near suicidal, even if they left Chandi behind for better mobility. The Thule soldiers had taken ideal positions, arrayed about the vehicle, with overlapping and complementary fields of fire. The scatterguns would tear them to shreds before they made it five steps.

They could try Simeon’s protocol, of course, and hope that his barrier would be enough to protect them, but even the strongest barrier protocols would struggle against that volume of fire at that range. Staying in place and using the protocol to avoid the fire was equally futile, as the barrier would stop the flames, but not the heat, cooking them inside an impermeable bubble.

Delphi suggested that they could bring Chandi Tuesday with them as they advanced, rather than leaving her behind, in the hope that the Thule forces would hold their fire, but Maxim doubted it. The rifleman deployed across the hood of the SUV was there for likely that exact reason, and the road was more than wide enough for a skilled shooter to pick both men off cleanly. That approach only worked if Simeon and Daniel had elected to surrender and fall upon the mercy of the Thule Cartel.

There was no possibility they would surrender, Maxim decided. Simeon was too stubbornly practical, and Daniel was too smart. They would know the most likely outcome of such a course – a bullet in the head in some lonely room, after hours or days of torture.

Daniel would move first, Maxim thought. Delphi agreed, flashing him a set of projected positions.

The array of Thule forces was less than ideal, situated to provide overlapping fields of fire. Even invisible, wherever Daniel started, one of the other two soldiers would have a clean shot.

Maxim wished desperately that they could have coordinated. A timed attack would have allowed them to each take a single target, leaving only the rifleman with his muzzle poking from a gun port in the SUV, and potentially the driver, to be dealt with later.

Wishes never came true in the field, in Maxim’s experience, so he returned to practical considerations. Delphi drip-fed ballistic information into his occipital lobe, superimposing target tags and drop calculations.

Gabby staggered up the crest of the hill and collapsed on the dirt beside him. Her brown hair was plastered to her head, soaked with sweat, and her face was smeared with dirt when she pushed aside her dripping scarf.

“Hey,” she panted. “Thanks for not shooting me.”

“Shut up,” Maxim thought. “I’m thinking.”

“I know,” she said. “You have to get involved.”

He did not bother to put aside his exasperation, since the empath was aware of it regardless.

“Why?”

“You are right,” Gabby said, not at all flustered. “They will die for sure if you don’t.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“Because you are,” Gabby said, smiling at him. “You’re just reluctant to commit.”

Maxim bent to study the targets through his scope, the smoke from the fire irritating his nose.

“She’s right, you know,” a voice said, from just above them. “I bet you would have been able to pull it off, if you had the guts to try.”

Delphi howled, outraged at deception. Maxim spun around and found himself looking at a grinning face he had only seen in photographs and file reports.

The former Chief Auditor and the most feared of the Anathema, a respirator pushed to the side of his tanned face, looking like he was about to laugh, or had just finished doing so. Alistair had a silver revolver in his hand, pointed somewhere in the dirt between the two of them. Despite the smoke, Maxim could see the dimpled lead crowns of the bullets in the cylinder in detail.

Delphi vomited information into Maxim’s brain, a stew of warnings and red flags. Maxim rolled over, his hands at his shoulders. Gabby did the same, looking more surprised than worried.

“That’s right,” Alistair said approvingly. “Let’s make this nice and easy, and nobody…holy shit. Gabriela Thule? What are you doing here, with Maxim Yurchenko of all people?”

“That’s actually quite difficult to explain,” Gabby said. “It has been a strange few days.”

“You kids never cease to amaze me,” Alistair said, shaking his head. “We’ll have plenty of time to talk it over once I finish here, so think of an entertaining story, okay?”

Alistair aimed at Maxim’s head and pulled the trigger.

***

They watched Renton scarf down a massive amount of food, temporarily forgetting their own meals.

Emily smiled over the rim of a glass of rosé. Alex and Vivik resumed eating, but they were put to shame by the appetite on display from the injured man.

Eerie cowered at the far end of the table, nibbling fragments broken from the sugar basket.

“Jesus, Emily,” Renton said, around a mouthful of au gratin potato. “I forgot how good you are at this.”

“Thank you, Renton,” Emily said. “That’s nice of you to say.”

“You’ll make a great wife,” Renton said, eyeing her. “Cooking like this and looking the way you do.”

“Thanks,” Emily said, giggling. “I think.”

“I mean it,” Renton insisted. “You are wasted on these losers. Any chance you feel like marrying me?”

“No chance at all,” Emily said. “But I’m glad you like dinner.”

“He’s right,” Vivik said. “About the food, I mean! Dinner is great.”

“Yeah,” Alex added. “Great.”

“I’ve been out of it for a while,” Renton said, chewing. “I need an update. Which of you two ladies is dating Alex these days?”

“You said you would be fun,” Eerie said sullenly. “That isn’t fun.”

“Sometimes I think you don’t like me very much, Eerie,” Renton said, draining a glass of ice water. “Which hurts, I’ll have you know. I have a very high opinion of you. You are easily one of my top fifteen favorite ex-girlfriends.”

“Renton,” Emily said, her expression growing cold. “That was…”

“I’m not your ex-girlfriend,” Eerie protested. “I thought you wanted to be friends! I didn’t understand at all.”

“You figured it out okay,” Renton observed, dipping bread into a sliced section of bone marrow. “You aren’t half as dumb as you pretend to be.”

“If you don’t stop immediately,” Emily said, “I’m going to ask you to leave.”

“You don’t have to leave,” Alex said, tossing his napkin on the table. “I can fuck you up right here.”

“You will do no such thing!” Emily snapped. “This is my house, and I expect you both to conduct yourselves appropriately.”

“Like the lady said,” Renton said, chewing on a scrap of crust. “Behave yourself, Alex, or you won’t get invited to any more dinner parties.”

“Alex,” Eerie said, tugging at his sleeve. “Maybe we should go?”

“That’s not necessary,” Renton said. “I’ll stop! I’ll even apologize, if you want me to. Sorry, Eerie,” Renton said, with a wolfish grin. “I was only playing.”

“One more obnoxious word,” Emily said, “and I will remove you myself, Renton.”

Renton grinned and returned his attention to his plate.

“I thought I was happy to see you alive,” Vivik remarked. “I guess I forgot what an asshole you can be.”

Renton laughed as he reached for his wine glass.

“I think maybe we should go,” Alex said, looking at Eerie with concern. “Sorry, but I’m really tired, and…”

Renton smirked and snagged the remaining roast beef from Alex’s plate.

“Just a moment,” Emily said, putting her napkin on the table and standing up. “Let me walk the two of you to the door.”

Eerie stood quickly and practically ran for the door. Alex hurried after her, shooting Vivik an apologetic look.

“It’s okay,” he said. “Sorry to run. Finish your dinner.”

“I’ll let you out,” Emily said, following him. “You see, I have one teensy favor that I need to ask of you…”

Renton laughed, waiting until they all left the room.

“Some guys have all the luck,” Renton said, cutting the roast into bite-size pieces. “Wouldn’t you say, Vivik?”

“You really are a dick sometimes,” Vivik said. “You know?”

***

Maxim was not fast enough to dodge a bullet in flight.

Delphi warned him as the first muscles tensed in Alistair’s hand, alarms screaming across his brain as information fed directly into his primary motor cortex, bypassing the decision process for efficiency, delivering machine instruction that was unrefined and exquisitely painful.

It still wasn’t fast enough.

Maxim lurched forward spasmodically, and the bullet meant to strike him between the eyes ripped across the top of his head, cutting a bloody path through his scalp. His movements were dictated by his telepathic awareness, Delphi feeding him instructions like dance movements, and the second and third shots collided with the ballistic plate on his back, hammer blows that knocked him to the ground and replaced the air in his lungs with an agonizing wave of heat.

Delphi howled, but Maxim could barely move.

His automated defense systems engaged, launching a full-scale telepathic attack on Alistair’s nervous system, attempting to halt the impulses that would allow him to pull the trigger.

Alistair’s defenses were on a whole other level from anything Maxim and Delphi had previously encountered. He crushed the assault with a smirk, and then countered with a psychic attack of his own that cut through Maxim’s shields like a knife through silk.

“Who is Delphi?” Alistair asked, the answer dawning in his eyes even as he spoke. “You personify your protocol? Oh, that is just too precious! You are far too precious to live.”

Alistair took aim and pulled the trigger, but Maxim was already moving, and he did not even feel the bullet that tore most of his left ear off, though the sound of the shot deafened him. Maxim wrapped his arms around Alistair’s leg and twisted with everything he had, wrenching his knee. Alistair tottered as Maxim took hold of his shoulder and wrist. The gun discharged, and Maxim felt a bullet embed in his chest protector, halted just short of the flesh by layers of Kevlar. Another shot punched into the top of his right shoulder, emerging from his armpit. Delphi reassured him that the artery was intact while suppressing the messages of pain and shock that his nervous system was desperate to convey.

Maxim heaved, and Alistair fell to the ground, the pistol tumbling from his fingers. Maxim scrambled into a tenuous mount, where his fists and elbows could get into play, Delphi struggling with Alistair’s protocol all the while.

Planting his fist firmly in the dust where he had thought Alistair’s head to be, Maxim reflected that perhaps ‘struggle’ was overselling it. Delphi was nearly helpless against Alistair’s prodigious telepathic gifts, just barely able to secure his own mind against full-scale intrusion. In the meantime, illusion and misdirection kept him from getting a hand solidly on Alistair, his knuckles scraping raw against the sand. Alistair popped him in the chin, briefly dazing him, and then followed that up with an elbow that snapped Maxim’s jaws shut. Alistair used the opportunity to free himself.

Alistair picked up the gun casually, taking the time to dust himself off and smirk.

“Don’t feel bad,” he said. “You both did really well, for…”

Maxim tried to stand, and Alistair put another bullet in his chest plate, knocking him back down. The Anathema aimed the pistol at his head and pulled the trigger, the hammer falling on an empty chamber. Alistair swore and ejected the casings, reaching for an ammo pouch at his belt.

Delphi, beleaguered and half-beaten, saw a tiny opening and attacked, sliding in beneath Alistair’s perception.

The Anathema’s fingers fumbled at the pouch’s fastener.

Maxim drew his own pistol and fired from the hip, letting Delphi handle the precise mechanics of aiming.

Maxim emptied the gun. Alistair reloaded calmly as rounds whizzed by him. Alistair grinned as Maxim fired off his final round, a puff of dust rising from between Alistair’s feet as he charged the pistol.

“Are we all done?” Alistair asked, putting a bullet through Maxim’s hand and sending his pistol flying. “You’ve been fun, but I have more important things to deal with at the bottom of the hill.”

Delphi screamed, but Maxim just stood and waited for the bullet, for the shot that he would likely never hear.

Alistair’s hand wavered slightly, then he sighed and glanced at Gabby, who had put a hand on his arm.

“A fucking empath,” he sighed. “How wonderful.”

“You don’t need to kill Maxim,” Gabby said. “He’s a nice guy.”

“Is he?” Alistair shot Maxim in his left knee, aiming low to avoid his ballistic armor. Delphi could only do such much to mute the pain as the bullet tore through his tendons, toppling him over. “Okay, why not? It’s not like he matters to me at all.”

Maxim, even in the grips of agony, felt something like a light breeze on his face.

Alistair swore as he stared at what remained of the gun in his hand. It had been crudely torn in half, the muzzle and slide crumpled and tossed on the ground. A woman wearing blue trainers and white sneakers stood between Maxim and Alistair, her fingernails extruded like a big cat’s claws.

“Sorry, old boss,” the woman said, tossing her blonde hair. “We have an issue.”

“Leigh Feld?” Alistair looked bewildered. “What in the hell are you doing? You work for me!”

“I quit. Did I forget to tell you?” Leigh shrugged. “You are boring and kind of sleazy, and I got a better offer. I’m not even really Anathema, you know.”

“Yes, I remember. You’re a cannibal vampire,” Alistair snapped. “A very important distinction. Who are you working for?”

“Emily Muir,” Leigh said, cracking her knuckles. “She told me to tell you that, by the way.”

“I thought you were smarter than this,” Alistair said, taking a knife from his belt, the metal powder-coated a dull black. “I thought Emily was smarter than this! I know exactly how tough you are, physically, but let’s be honest. You won’t be able to lift a finger against my protocol.”

Gabby backed away, looking more amused than anything.

“That would be true if someone else hadn’t built my shielding,” Leigh agreed. “Lucky for me that someone did.”

Alistair smiled, and his protocol activated, triggering a telepathic assault that crashed against Leigh’s mental shields like a tsunami.

Leigh grinned and waited. Alistair stared in disbelief.

“Who built those shields?” Alistair’s eyes narrowed. “Emily Muir? It couldn’t be. She’s barely even a telepath!”

“You really should keep up with current affairs if you want to act like a bigshot. I’m embarrassed for you.” The vampire smiled, like she’d just thought of something funny, and perhaps a little distasteful. “Not the first time.”

“Like I said,” Alistair said, tossing the knife between his hands. “Fucking empaths.”

Alistair slashed at Leigh’s face and she leaned back, the blade catching only a few stray blonde hairs. She feinted and moved inside, catching his wrist. Alistair pivoted, kicking Leigh in the midsection, his shin connecting solidly with her belly. Leigh grunted and bent forward, allowing Alistair to land an uppercut on her protruding chin with his off hand, snapping her head back.

Leigh rubbed her jaw and spat out a small pink chunk of her tongue.

Alistair adjusted his grip on the knife, and they resumed circling.

Leigh moved first, but Alistair’s counter was so rapid that he slashed a bright red line down her arm before the vampire had even fully extended it, the tips of her claws tearing his shirt as he spun around her. The knife opened cuts on Leigh’s side and on the back of her neck, and then Alistair leapt back, the vampire grasping at air.

“They are nice shields,” Alistair admitted, switching his grip. “Doesn’t stop me from reading your intentions before you put them into action, though. You might be able to hold out against my telepathy for a while, but I promise that you’ll never lay a hand on me.”

Daniel Gao appeared behind Alistair on the slope, his pistol at the ready, and started shooting.

Alistair ducked and rolled while Leigh flinched, bringing her arms up to protect her face. Bullets whistled through the air and brought up puffs of dust from the hillside as Daniel emptied the magazine.

“You missed,” Alistair crowed, dusting himself off. “Not even a scratch!”

Daniel Gao just shrugged and holstered the gun, giving Maxim a pitying glance before he blinked out of existence.

Leigh attacked Alistair, leaping across the road to tackle him as if it were no distance at all.

Gabby disappeared into the brush not far from where Maxim was trying desperately to apply a tourniquet to his injured leg before he passed out, bullets tearing into the leaves around her. The gunfire came from just over his head, and the empty magazine ejected onto the dirt his blood was leaking into.

“You should have killed her when you had the chance,” thin air admonished Maxim. “Taking a Thule girl prisoner. What were you thinking?”

Maxim groaned and tried to pull himself closer, but the pain was too great, and he was far too slow. Alistair fought free of Leigh’s grasp, cutting her across the abdomen for her trouble.

Maxim groaned and fell back to the ground, too weak to even crawl.

Alistair lunged at Leigh, his knife stained a dull red, and the vampire parried frantically.

“For God’s sake,” Maxim heard someone mutter, as invisible hands deftly completed his tourniquet. “I have to do everything, don’t I?”

A tourniquet was synched tight above his knee, and then a moment later, a trauma bandage was slapped across the exit wounds.

“The Mistress would not want you dead,” Daniel said, out of the empty air. “Try and stay alive long enough for Simeon to rescue you.”

The world was spinning around Maxim like a centrifuge, and he could not so much as lift his head off the ground. His head rolled to the side until his cheek rested on the dirt, and out of the corner of his eye, he could see Alistair and Leigh Feld fighting.

Daniel Gao appeared out of nowhere above Gabby’s body, machete in hand. He bent to sever her head as a prize for their Mistress, but was forced to retreat when Alistair snatched a gun from the ground and opened fire.

He must have lost consciousness briefly, because it seemed to Maxim that he blinked, and Leigh Feld was covered in blood, gasping for air and bleeding from a dozen different wounds, while Alistair circled and gloated.

They entangled with the frantic eagerness of new lovers. There was a confusion of limbs and grips, and then Alistair went sailing, slapping the dirt road as he hit and neatly rolling back to his feet.

Maxim blinked again, and there was shouting and more noise, gunshots and cries, and then a strange light and a feeling of pressurization.

He felt like there had been new arrivals, but his vision was too blurred to be certain.

A barrier, he thought, watching the flames surround them with a detached fascination.

Maxim closed his eyes, and wished that all of them, Leigh and Alistair and whoever else, would just be quiet. He was very tired, and even the pain in his knee was not enough to keep him awake.

Eleven

Day Three

Alex showered quickly, the empty locker room making him nervous. He glanced at Katya’s locker as he toweled off, one of several left intact from the inconsistent attentions of the looters, feeling guilty and anxious.

He should have talked to her before she left to meet Emily for their mysterious appointment, he thought, lacing his boots. He should have told Katya everything and gotten her advice. That would have been the safe thing to do.

He should have asked Katya to come along, Alex thought, pulling his ballistic harness out of the pile of dirty clothing at the bottom of his locker. That would have been the best idea.

Emily seemed much less dangerous when Katya was around.

He should have at least asked Eerie about all of it, but she was still half-awake when he left bed that morning, wrapped in blankets and with a pillow clamped firmly over her head.

She had not been happy, after the dinner, so he had simply held her while she wept quietly. He was not entirely certain whether she was upset because of Renton’s bullying, or if she was upset because he was set to spend the day with Emily, but he was afraid to ask.

He yawned as he slid the aramid plates into the harness and yawned some more as he finished getting dressed. By the time he had his kit together, his jaw was aching, and his eyelids were heavy.

He did a couple jumping jacks to get his heart going, then he went to go check the weapons vault the Auditors had maintained in the building.

The secured door that protected the vault had been broken in, and the vault itself was wide open.

Eerie had not wanted him to go, Alex reflected, resignedly inspecting the empty vault.

He returned to the locker room and finished organizing his things, not sure why he bothered, except that if he had stopped moving, he might have fallen asleep on the spot.

They had not quarreled, exactly, after the uncomfortable dinner, but it had been a tense conversation. He had expected her to suspect Emily’s motivations in asking for another favor, but Eerie seemed to be above those sorts of petty considerations, even in her mature form.

Mature sounded bad, Alex thought, reminding himself not to say that aloud.

How else to describe the Changeling’s transformation? Evolved, maybe? It was as if he had not seen her in years, she had changed so much in the weeks they had been apart. It was…eerie.

Alex laughed as he left the locker room, the broken door toppling into the hallway at a touch.

Honestly, he hadn’t wanted to go, himself. He wanted to return to his room, where Eerie probably was right now, wrapped in coarse institutional sheets that he wished he had washed more regularly. He wanted to lay beside her, to sleep with his arms around her, her back pressed to his stomach, the way he held her before dinner, the sweat slowly drying on their skin.

Eerie did not want to be apart again, after so much separation, and Alex agreed.

There just did not seem to him to be another way.

It really didn’t make sense. After the World Tree and the Source Well, could he really still be in Emily’s debt?

What was his life worth? What was Eerie worth to him?

Emily had saved both.

They needed Emily’s help, too, to locate Rebecca and the Auditors, assuming any of them were still alive, to confront the Anathema – Alistair in particular, he thought, grinding his teeth – and to deal with…what had Eerie called it? The thing she said would be coming after her?

The Church of Sleep.

Right, Alex thought, striding into the muggy warmth of the early evening at the Far Shores.

Whatever that was, or whoever.

How many people was he expected to kill, Alex wondered, just to earn some time with his girlfriend?

Even thinking the word made him grin, remembering the afternoon, the way she smiled at him when he pinned her wrists above her head. Then he remembered Emily taunting him, before dinner, and his mood soured again.

Gotta stop thinking about that stuff, Alex thought, shaking his head. He had already let Emily get to him once that day. He did not want to make the same mistake twice.

Turning his mind to anything else just opened the way to worry.

Eerie had argued with him even as her eyes drifted closed, back in the bedroom, and he had felt his own doing the same. A cold shower provided brief respite, but he could not stop yawning as he crossed the grassy quad at the heart of the Far Shores, aiming for one of the former science buildings.

How many times had he used his protocol in the past few days?

He had slept all night, but he did not feel rested. He had no idea when the consequences would come, or why he was not already asleep. How much time would he lose, this time, once it finally happened?

Weeks or months, at least, Alex thought grimly. Even years. He had no real idea of how great the cost of his Black Protocol could be. There was no doubt that since his awakening in the Outer Dark, he had used the Absolute Protocol more than he ever had previously. And he wasn’t likely to be done yet.

Not with Alistair still out there. Maybe that Parson guy. Possibly even Gaul Thule, from what he had been hearing.

And the Church of Sleep, of course.

Eerie had told him they had some time on that one, a few days. Which meant he had to stay awake and ready at least that long.

Long enough to deal with Alistair, too.

Alex’s cheeks burned with fury when he recalled the story Katya had told him about Alistair confronting Eerie bathing in the Outer Dark. He had terrorized her, hurt her.

Alistair would answer for that, Alex resolved, pushing the swinging door open and entering the science building. Which meant using his protocol.

Last time, he had lost most of a winter.

There was nothing to do about it, Alex thought, straightening his shoulders. He had to push on, stay awake, and do whatever was required of him. No more of his friends were going to die, he had already decided. He had let Eerie down before. That was not going to happen again.

The science building was empty, his footsteps echoing down brightly lit hallways.

In the distance, Alex heard barking.

He paused for a moment, and then hurried down the corridor, toward the sound of the dogs.

A security door took him outside, where a large kennel had been constructed over a patch of poorly maintained crabgrass. He propped the door open behind him, and then went over to the large wooden shed in the corner of the pen that served as a doghouse.

Three dogs greeted him, nearly bowling him over in their eagerness. Alex counted two pit mixes and a Doberman, all frantic for attention. He could never remember the names of Hayley’s dogs, because they were all weird.

Alex petted and scratched them until they calmed down. He did a quick check of their surroundings, pleased to see their water dishes were full and the dogs appeared fed.

Alex picked the oldest and calmest of the pit mixes, grey coming in along his drool-spattered muzzle, and crouched before the dog. He sunk his fingers into the loose skin behind the ears, and gently manipulated the dog’s head until they were looking directly into each other’s eyes.

“I’m not sure how this works,” Alex said, slightly self-conscious. “I’m not sure if you can hear me, or…I think you said, once, that you were permanently bonded to these guys. If that’s true, if you can hear me, then…”

Alex hesitated, not entirely sure what he wanted to say.

“…then you guys need to get back to Central. Things are bad here, and they are about to get worse. There’s a thing coming – I don’t really understand it – but Eerie says this is the safest place, for people like us, Operators or whatever. I don’t know. I’m here, at the Far Shores. Eerie and Katya are with me, and…”

He paused again, considering.

“…and Emily Muir, too. She’s got people with her, Vivik from class, and some guy from Processing, and an Anathema vampire, and…”

Alex took a deep breath, sighed.

“…I don’t know. I think maybe she’s running the place, now, or something like that. Like I said, everything is crazy here. Central is burning. We could really use some Auditors, if there are any of you…I mean, if you guys are okay. Anyway, I guess…hurry. It’s not safe, out there, for you, and…I could really use the help. I’m doing my best, but I’m not really sure what…”

He closed his eyes.

“Just be safe and get back here, okay? That’s it, I guess. Oh, and tell Ms. Gallow not to be mad at me. Or at Katya. None of this is her fault, or my fault, I swear.”

Alex rubbed the dog on the top of his head and then let him go.

He left the door propped open behind him, in case the dogs wanted or needed to leave the kennel. He did not think that they would run away, and even if they did, Hayley would surely be able to find them.

Alex hurried across the building.

He found Emily where she said she would be, in an enormous room at the rear of a laboratory. He knew the function of the space immediately, as it was nearly identical to the room beside the mustering area in the Auditor’s building, a round disc of featureless metal laid in the center of the floor, with a cluster of consoles and wired equipment at one end.

Emily stood in front of one of the consoles, poking at a touchscreen.

“I thought there were no more apports,” Alex raised his voice to be heard across the room. “Isn’t the Ether all fucked up?”

“That is one way to put it,” Emily said cheerily, not looking from the screen. “You are mostly right. Standard apports are limited in range, and quite dangerous. The fixed relays still work, though, assuming they are powered at both ends, and one has the proper access codes.”

“What good does that do us?” Alex said, hurrying over to join her. “Aren’t all the other fixed points outside of Central?”

“Almost all of them,” Emily agreed, tapping the screen. “Lucky for us, then, that our intended destination is also outside of Central.”

“You told Eerie we weren’t going far.”

“I thought that would make her feel better.”

“Oh, come on. You thought it would make us more likely to agree.”

“Don’t be angry, Alex. This is all quite important, and in any case, we are going to help a friend of yours.”

“What? Who are we…?”

“You’ll see. I promise that you’ll be glad we did this,” Emily assured him. “Are you ready?”

Alex gestured at his cobbled-together kit as he yawned.

“You’re tired. I can’t imagine why,” Emily observed wryly, shrugging her clutch off her shoulder and opening it. “Let me see…”

“It won’t be a problem.”

“Can’t have you falling asleep just yet,” Emily said, extending her hand, two small blue pills on her palm. “Take these. Two now, and then two more in a few hours.”

Alex eyed the pills doubtfully.

“What are they?”

“Adderall, taken from the Auditor’s own medical facility,” Emily said, smiling reassuringly. “To be used for this express purpose. The bottle even has your name on it,” Emily said, rifling through her purse with her other hand. “Ms. Levy must have had it prepared, because the instructions say to prescribe on her orders.”

Alex took the orange bottle she handed him and squinted at the label.

It was exactly as Emily said, instructions and all.

He opened the top, removing the white plastic lid. The bottle contained another twenty or so pills, identical to those in Emily’s palm.

“Take them,” Emily urged. “Keep the bottle. Who knows what will happen, right? The longer you’re away from Eerie, the less likely you are to keep your eyes open – that’s what I think, anyway.”

Alex glanced at the instructions.

“It says to take one.”

“Every prescription says that. This is an emergency. You’ll be fine.”

He read the rest of the tiny printed text.

“No more than four in a twenty-four-hour period,” Alex read aloud. “Take with food.”

“Fine. Just take one. You’ll need a second pill, unless you accidentally fall asleep first and ruin everything. You do know what will happen if you nod off, even just for a second?”

“Yeah,” Alex said, looking at the pills in her hand. “I fall asleep.”

“Yes, and while you are asleep, we all die, probably. Is that a risk that you wish to run?”

Alex took the pills from her.

“Do you have a bottle of water, or…?”

Emily laughed and coaxed his other hand into the shape of a cup. She passed her palm over it, and his hand was suddenly full of water, the excess spilling between his fingers to the floor. Alex hurriedly swallowed the pills, chasing it with the handful of water. They were chalky and dry, catching briefly in his throat.

“You’ll feel better in a few minutes,” Emily assured him, patting his arm. “Shall we get going?”

“Where are we going?”

“We are going to glamorous Henderson, Nevada.”

“Where?”

“It’s a suburb,” Emily explained, taking his hand and leading him to the platform. “Outside of Las Vegas. Lots of subdivisions, very boring and very safe.”

“Except for us,” Alex corrected. “It won’t be at all safe for us, will it?”

“Probably not boring, either,” Emily agreed, reaching into her purse and then handing him something. “You’ll probably want this, though I hope very much that you won’t need it.”

Alex took the matte-black pistol from her and examined it. A discreet Kimber semi-automatic in nylon housing, an expanded magazine protruding from the butt of the pistol, automatic laser sights activating as he gripped it. He clipped the holster to his belt and accepted a pair of spare magazines from Emily, sliding them into either pocket.

“Holy shit, Emily,” Alex said, glancing at the purse beneath her arm. “What the hell do you keep in that bag?”

“It’s completely full of drugs and guns,” Emily said. “Say what you like about me, Alex, but I refuse to be considered boring.”

The apport was as jarring as a rollercoaster or a car crash, over before it began and yet lingering timelessly in the frigid Ether, grey torrents tearing through him and chilling him to his core. The heat of the desert was a brutal contrast to the cold of the Ether, and the hot wind carried a fine dry dust that immediately settled in his nostrils.

He kept his eyes closed until he was sure he wouldn’t be sick.

Somewhere nearby, he could hear Emily coughing.

He blinked the stars into focus, the ambient light of Las Vegas obscuring all but the brightest. They were on the sidewalk beside the cultivated landscape of a country club, the illuminated greens shining like emeralds against the beige landscape. Alex cleared his throat, spat into the gutter, and then went to check on Emily, who was lying on her back in a nearby driveway.

“Are you okay?”

“That was awful,” Emily said, rubbing her eyes. “So much worse than I thought it would be.”

“Worst apport fucking ever,” Alex agreed, crouching beside her. “Are you going to be all right?”

“I’ll be fine,” Emily said, reaching out. “Help me up.”

He pulled her up, and she stumbled into his arms.

Alex froze. Emily grinned at him and leaned weakly against his chest.

“I just need a minute,” she said, closing her eyes. “I’m still dizzy.”

He held her awkwardly, his arms high up around her shoulders. He caught himself glancing around, as if he were afraid to be witnessed.

“Sorry, Alex,” Emily said quietly.

“For what?”

“Being inconvenient,” Emily murmured. “Interfering with your happy ending.”

“I never know what to say to you, Emily.”

“You could try being nice.”

“Am I…am I bad to you?”

“I suppose that depends on your perspective. I know you don’t intend to be cruel.”

Alex winced, his arms tightening around her.

“I’m sorry.”

“I don’t want you to apologize,” Emily said, opening her eyes. “I want you to grow up. I suppose I’m much like Eerie in that regard. Don’t you think?”

“Are you okay to stand? Not so dizzy?”

“I can stand, but you don’t have to let go of me,” Emily said. “I know you don’t want to.”

There was a twinkle in her eye as she smiled at him. Alex released her with an effort, taking a little step away for good measure.

“Lie to yourself if you want,” Emily said, a pert smile on her lips. “You can’t hide anything from me. I feel everything that you feel, clear as day.”

“I thought we were past this,” Alex said, putting his hands in his pockets so they wouldn’t shake. “I thought we had moved on.”

“I think it’s more a question of exactly what we’ve moved on to,” Emily said. “What do you want us to be? Shall we be friends?”

Alex glanced around, eyeing the identical houses of the subdivision across the street, and the hanging nets around the country club that shielded them from errant balls.

“What are we doing here?”

“We are here to save a friend of yours. How do you feel?”

“Look, I already told you…”

“Not about me,” Emily said, laughing. “The pills, dummy. Do you feel awake?”

Alex paused and considered it. He felt invigorated, even enthusiastic, the palms of his hands sweaty, an electric tingle running down his spine.

“Yeah,” he said. “I think they worked.”

“Good,” Emily said, taking his hand and leading him down the street. “Remember to take another if you start to feel sleepy. Don’t risk nodding off, okay? If you do that, we are all in big trouble.”

“I understand,” Alex said, very aware of the hand grasping his own. “I won’t fall asleep.”

“Promise me?”

“I promise.”

“Good. Now, let’s see…”

She turned a corner into a cul-de-sac that dead-ended into the dark of the desert.

“…the house that we want is…not this one, not this…”

The houses were well-lit, but so identical that Alex was unsure how Emily told them apart. Only the vehicles parked in the driveway and the minimal landscaping seemed to differ.

“…no, no, and…aha! There it is!” Emily pointed to the second to the last house on the left. “The one with the flag and the basketball hoop in front. That’s what we are looking for.”

Emily smiled and pulled him to a stop, still half a block short of their destination.

“Why? What’s in that house?”

“An old friend of yours, in need of assistance. Though she does not know it herself.”

“She?”

“Of course. With you, it’s always a lady,” Emily said, giggling. “You aren’t much for hanging out with the other guys, are you? The only boy you are friends with is Vivik, as far as I can tell, and you’ve been rather awful to him lately.”

“That’s not fair,” Alex complained. “We’re still friends, it just got a little complicated.”

“Relationships are complicated,” Emily said, squeezing his hand. “Wouldn’t you say?”

“Emily, who are we here for?”

“You’ll see in a moment,” Emily said, stepping close. “There’s something I need, first.”

She pulled him into a shadowy side yard between one of the track homes and a cinderblock wall. The air was hot and smelled of dust and new paint. He tried to back away, or at least he meant to do so, but Emily was still very close, the skin beneath her white dress warm and yielding.

“What?”

“I just need to be close to you for a moment,” Emily said earnestly. “I know you won’t mind.”

He intended to recoil. Again, he did not go anywhere.

“Why do we need to do that?” Alex asked. “What the hell is…?”

“Two purposes,” Emily said. “Mine and yours.”

“Stop teasing,” Alex said. “Why would you want to…?”

“To save your friend, Alex, I’m afraid I need to be a much more powerful empath than I have ever been.”

There was that twinkle again in her eyes, when she looked at him.

“We’ve done this once before,” Emily said. “On Anastasia’s island, when we were alone, together. Do you remember?”

He nodded slowly.

“My protocol. The catalyst effect. That’s what you’re after, isn’t it?”

“Yes. That’s it,” Emily agreed. “I need you to augment my empathic and telepathic abilities. For that to happen, I need to be the focus of your attention. I need us to be close.”

“This is a bad idea.”

“Isn’t it just? Now that you understand,” Emily said, putting her arms around him, “I’d like to go ahead. I won’t bother asking for your permission. I can see it in your halo.”

He had no time to ask what she meant by that. Emily felt very natural in his arms.

His head buzzed and spun, and his skin tingled. He hardly moved, sensitive to every place that their bodies touched. The desert wind tickled his back and sweat dripped into his eyes.

“Wow!” She laughed. “I nearly forgot what that feels like.”

He leaned forward and kissed her, his hands moving to her hips.

“That was hardly required,” she said, laughing as she slid from his arms. “What exactly do you think you are you doing?”

He wondered the same thing, unable to meet her eyes.

“You are so mean,” she chided. “Eerie would cry her eyes out if she saw that, don’t you think?”

Alex stared at the ground, the blood rushing in his head.

“I feel incandescent,” Emily said, throwing out her arms. “You really are something.”

She smiled mischievously, and it was all he could do not to reach for her.

“Now that we’ve both had our moment,” Emily said, smoothing wrinkles from her dress, “shall we save your friend?”

***

Song Li was considering relocation.

She stood in the kitchen, not far from the back door, where she had held a brief conversation with Alistair more than twenty-four hours before. There had been no need to move since then, so she had not. It was already hot, for one thing, and there was nothing to do but wait.

The refrigerator, covered in advertisements for the home rental service and a variety of local restaurants, was as good a view as any in the bland suburb. The setting was a pity, Song Li reflected, because she was an avid golfer, and had enjoyed membership in several prestigious clubs when inhabiting male bodies, as was her general preference. Having the links just across the street was maddening, given her current circumstance.

Song Li appreciated the utility of the male form, the easy social acceptance and access that went with it, and despite the lithe build of her current shell – her own preferred nomenclature for the corpses she occupied – she found existing within it burdensome. The corrosive black blood within Mitsuru Aoki accelerated the decomposition process, something that Song Li’s nanite population normally stymied for months, and the inactive neural implant was an unpleasant dead weight in her skull.

Song Li was aware of the passage of time only by watching the patch of light on the refrigerator fluctuate. The small clock flashed a green triple-zero endlessly at her from the nearby microwave as she held her internal debate.

Mitsuru Aoki had been an Auditor, and even without her neural implant, she was the user of a formidable Black Protocol. That was nothing to sniff at, in a shell. Such things were rare. Song Li had never been an Auditor before or employed an M-Class protocol. That was not something to toss aside casually.

On the other hand, there was the smell, and her strong suspicion that the shell’s various wounds were festering faster than the nanites could repair them. Her shell was covered in such injuries, mostly inherited from the previous tenant.

It said a great deal about Mitsuru, Song Li thought, that she had to cut herself to use her protocol.

At the very least, Song Li experienced none of the shell’s pain. It must have been a horrible way to live, Song Li reflected, needing to open her skin just to do something as elementary as use her protocol. Song Li felt a little sorry for Mitsuru Aoki, and suspected that the Auditors who had killed her had done her a favor.

Song Li moved her eyes just slightly, to the kitchen knives in a nearby wooden block, and wondered if she would be able to cut herself like that, if she had to feel the pain.

If it was not a shell, but a body. Her body.

Song Li tried to remember what that had felt like, being in a cage of meat, tethered by a web of nervous tissue. A body that hurt, that tickled and sweat and had a beating heart throbbing behind the breastbone. A body that used the bathroom and grew tired and hungry, that felt anything at all when it was taken from behind, as Alistair had been so eager to do when she first acquired this shell.

Not so, now. Not since the rot had set in.

Alistair had left to hijack an apport station and return to Central, and there was no way to tell when he would be back.

Depending on how it went, he might not come back. Song Li had no illusions about their relationship. She was useful to Alistair, and the moment her usefulness expired, he would get rid of her. Song Li was comfortable with that.

It was a familiar sort of relationship.

Moving on her own would require a new shell. She could not go out in public any longer with this one. The only reason to linger in it was if there was more fighting to be done, if the Auditors found her.

She did not like the idea of being caught in a shell that did not operate a protocol, but that sort of anonymity was her best chance of leaving the area unnoticed. Stealth might very well have been the best available defense, but she found the idea of being defenseless repugnant.

Song Li could not remember the last time she had occupied a shell that had not previously been an Operator, and she had no intention of breaking the habit.

The Auditors tracking her here, seeking retribution for the attack on Michael Lacroix, Karim Sabir, and Chike Okoro, would be a perverse sort of good fortune. This shell was more than capable of killing one of the junior Auditors they had rushed into the field, Song Li reasoned, and then she would have options.

The telekinetic with the Eastern European accent, for example, or the young Korean barrier technician.

Even the girl telepath in a pinch.

At least they would not stink of rotting meat the way this shell did.

However she framed it, the debate was binary. Stay or go. Power weighed against stench.

One of the many advantages of inhabiting a dead body, in Song Li’s assessment, was the exceptionally acute hearing. A living body makes an awful lot of racket, and without the distraction of a pulse and a pair of lungs and a body-wide hydraulic system working around the clock, holding still in a way that no living thing could ever manage, Song Li often heard things that no one else did.

That was why, a moment before the back door opened, she heard a male voice impatiently exclaim, “I’m not waiting anymore. This bitch has been standing perfectly still for an hour, and I want to get back to Central.”

There was a brief feminine objection, and then a very unusual pair walked into the room, the boy wrinkling his nose in disgust at the smell, while the girl behind him coughed and gagged.

Alexander Warner, an Auditor and another M-Class protocol user, pinched his nose and looked at her shell with an expression of horrified disbelief. Song Li felt an immediate surge of desire, giving his body a covetous look. Behind him, Emily Muir, Anathema like herself, regained her composure.

“What is this?” Song Li asked, her shell’s voice hoarse with disuse. “What are you doing here?”

Alex shrugged and gave her a sullen look.

According to her telepathic briefing on the new crop of Auditors, that was sort of his thing.

What luck, Song Li thought, licking her shell’s cold lips. A second M-Class protocol user falling into her lap was unprecedented good fortune. If she had been the type to pray, she would have felt that her prayer was answered.

“This is a rescue mission, Song Li,” Emily said. “That’s apparently my favorite new hobby.”

“A rescue?” Song Li was puzzled. “What are you talking about?”

“It isn’t you that we are here to rescue, I’m afraid,” Emily said, tying her hair into a quick ponytail. “Do forgive us.”

“You can’t mean this thing,” Song Li said, gesturing at her rotting shell. “Mitsuru Aoki is long gone, killed by an Auditor’s bullet. There is no possibility of a rescue. I assure you that I am quite alone in here.”

Emily nodded at Alex, who drew the pistol at his hip.

“That may be true of the head,” Emily said. “But that neural implant, on the other hand…well, let’s just say, those things really are quite miraculous. Whatever else he may be, Gaul Thule is a genius, and those implants are his finest work.”

“The implant is dead, just like your friend,” Song Li croaked in disbelief. “What can you possibly hope to do?”

“We are here to rescue Ms. Aoki,” Emily said, closing her eyes. “But I told you that already.”

***

Are you ready, Alex dear?

Yes.

Like we planned. Remember?

We didn’t plan. You told me what to do.

That’s fine, dear. Do you remember my plan?

I distract her while you hijack that implant. I’m an Auditor these days, you know? We studied stuff like this in the Program.

I’m glad to hear it. I’m going to start, then.

Okay.

I feel like you want to ask me something, Alex.

I…no. Not really. I just wondered…

Yes?

Can you really bring her back?

Of course not. Dead people don’t come back. All I can do is activate the backup stored within the implant and hope for the best.

Got it.

Ready?

Alex took aim with his pistol. The Kimber was light and responsive, the trigger pull crisp as he snapped off a couple rounds at Mitsuru, aiming center mass and mentally apologizing. The first round struck home, while the second went wide.

The Anathema scrambled, expressing no pain and bleeding only sluggishly.

He fired three more times in rapid succession, pushing her back. The bullets struck with a dull slap, doing little more than jerking her torso to the side.

She lunged at him with remarkable speed. Alex grappled with her, his eyes watering at the sweet-putrid smell of decaying tissue. The face was the same, he thought, just avoiding her attempt to bite him in the neck, but her eyes were different somehow, displaying an entirely different intelligence.

She broke his hold easily, and Alex only countered a hip toss with difficulty.

Alex activated his protocol, opening a minute breach to the Ether, and Song Li flash froze, even the nanites within her circulatory system forced into stasis.

A thin layer of frost formed across Mitsuru’s slack and distended features, yellow fluid crystallizing at the corner of one of her rotting eyes.

Alex grimaced and looked away, not sure whether he wanted to vomit or cry.

Black blood erupted from a hundred different wounds across Mitsuru’s body, showering the room with caustic liquid. Alex cried out and ducked, instinctively opening a thousand tiny punctures to the Ether. The black blood froze solid in midair. The temperature dropped drastically, the air making his throat and lungs ache when he inhaled.

Song Li staggered forward and knocked the gun from Alex’s hand.

She grabbed him by the throat and pressed her rigid thumbs into his windpipe. Alex put his hand on her chest and activated his protocol, rotting innards and caustic blood spraying into the Ether, a grotesque geyser of half-rotten tissue disappearing into the grey.

***

Emily found herself within an empty space, black as a starless night. Ahead of her, there was the translucent image of a woman, like an anatomical model, a luminous object embedded inside of her head, barbed like a treble hook. A giant crab was attached to the translucent woman like a spider feeding on its prey, its fraying shell made up of layers of rotting cloth.

So that’s how you see yourself, Song Li. How awful. I wondered about all that ‘shell’ talk, Emily said. Or is this how I see you? This space is rather indefinite.

You see whatever you see, the crab retorted. I see a little girl who betrayed the Anathema for her boyfriend.

This is so tiresome, Emily said, heading for the translucent woman. I refuse to have my existence defined by my ex-boyfriend. I did betray the Anathema, I’ll give you that, but I did it for my own reasons.

I already tried to access the implant, the crab informed her. I found it unresponsive. Why should you be able to do any better?

I’m smart enough to consult its creator, Emily thought, looking at the many folds of the decaying crab. I made myself useful to Gaul Thule, and in return, he taught me a few tricks.

I can imagine just what sort of use that old man had for you.

No wonder you visualize yourself as a scavenger. You are a nasty, dead woman, Emily said, looking at the crab fearlessly. And I fully intend to be rid of you.

Emily reached for the translucent woman, passing through the crab to put her fingers on the forehead, not far from the barbed implant. There was a brief tension and resistance, like popping a grape, before her fingers burst through into the clear tissue of the brain.

You are a fool, and will make an unpleasant shell, the crab said, reaching its massive claws for Emily with unexpected delicacy. I will occupy you only temporarily. I suppose I do owe you a debt, though, for bringing Mr. Warner along. He will make an exceptional shell.

The crab’s mandibles snapped shut on Emily’s head.

The claws shattered, chitin bursting into a shower of multicolored rags.

Your protocol is a rather unique blend of psychokinesis and telepathy, Emily thought, not a single hair on her head mussed. Your telepathy is very rudimentary, however. I’d suggest that you stay out of my way.

The crab retreated to the back of the translucent woman’s head, sprouting extra legs as it scuttled. The needle-sharp appendages sank deep into the gelatinous tissue of the translucent woman, skewering her brain with a dozen talons.

How is this possible? The crab demanded. We are in my head!

Not exactly, Emily said, manipulating the implant. We are in an empty space that was formerly Mitsuru Aoki. This doesn’t belong to you any more than reading a book makes you the author.

The crab swelled and deformed, legs bursting from within its cloth exterior to impale Emily’s hands as they touched the translucent woman’s brain.

You are a parasite, Song Li, Emily thought, her fingers shattering the crab’s legs at a touch. Nothing more.

Emily’s touched the implant, the barbs slicing her fingers.

The implant lit up like the Shanghai skyline.

The crab hollowed and scuttled from the translucent woman onto Emily, pointed legs digging into her hair.

***

Mitsuru was not sure if her eyes were open.

It was as if she floated in the primordial dark before the first light, the outermost dark that exists outside of all things.

She tried to remember how she had gotten there and came up blank. She remembered doing the groundwork for an operation in the Ukraine, the preparations and disagreements, and the complaints of her unsettled stomach the night before. She recalled sour yogurt and dry granola the morning of the operation, the smell of freshly oiled guns and nervous sweat as the Auditors gathered for the apport. She remembered arriving and fanning out across acres of dreary industrial park.

Mitsuru remembered nervous quiet, and then blood and cordite…

Then nothing. Hard stop, no credits, no closing music.

Time might have passed. There was no way to tell, and no desire for certainty. She felt no anxiety whatsoever, and that realization woke within her an awareness of exactly how nervous she had always been, previously, the constant tension that hung over her days like a dreadful yellow moon, even before Central, her Introduction, and the Academy.

She wondered why that was, feeling that she would have frowned, if such a thing were possible.

There was no specific answer, she told herself, and as she did so, there was something within her, and that was different, because before that, she could not have told the difference between inside and outside, Mitsuru and everything else.

This was inside her, her nervous system lighting up like a pinball table.

Something black, that should have been blue, or red on exposure to the open air.

Blacker, somehow, than any other darkness, or perhaps just a more personal shade of pitch.

Mitsuru wondered what it was that was wrong with her, the question appearing unbidden in her mind, without context or provocation. She was worried, and that felt natural, like coming home to an abusive partner, awful and familiar.

There was a passage of time before she saw it, Mitsuru was certain. She could not hope to apply seconds or hours, years or days to the interim, before she saw a thin red line in the darkness, but there was a ‘before’ and a ‘now’, she was certain of it.

She would have blinked, would have been certain that her eyes were playing tricks on her, when she first noticed it, but Mitsuru was not entirely certain that she had eyes to blink or distrust. That meant that the red string was exactly as real as the darkness around her, Mitsuru supposed.

Which is to say, there was no way to tell.

Or…

Mitsuru considered it. Maybe there was a way?

She remembered what they had taught her, back at the Academy, dimly recalling a round woman with tight braids instructing her to imagine a silken red thread unspooling behind her, stretching across the perfect grey of the Ether, her personal trail of breadcrumbs. It was a beginner’s technique, a trick that new apport technicians used until confidence and competency rendered it unnecessary, but Mitsuru was no technician. Her ability to apport came from her implant, and the practice would always be foreign and nerve-wracking, so she relied on the red string trick.

The red string was a lifeline, Mitsuru remembered her teacher instructing her, a certain path back home.

Mitsuru reached for the string, not certain if she had arms with which to reach.

The string was not coarse, but rather thin and flossy between her fingers, cool to the touch. When she took hold of it, she felt a strange tingle down to her toes, as if she had picked up a live wire.

Which meant, not entirely incidentally, that she had fingers and toes, and more where that come from.

A body.

Mitsuru touched the red string and remembered her way home.

***

Alex smashed Mitsuru in the face with a hammer-fist, his stomach turning as the tumescent flesh deformed, everything beneath the skin pillow soft and purple-grey. He pried one of her thumbs out of his windpipe and bent it back until the bone snapped.

Song Li continued to squeeze with her other hand. The thing looking out from behind Mitsuru’s eyes was hateful and desirous, Alex thought, the air whining through his obstructed throat, or maybe that was just his imagination.

Alex remembered the first night, when Mitsuru had saved him from the Weir, and wondered why it had been so long since he last thought about it.

He brought his elbow down on her forearm, buying himself enough space to snatch a breath. He struck her arm again and freed himself, immediately pressing the advantage. He hit Song Li in the nose with a jab, and then knocked her over with a right cross. Alex leapt on top of her, raining down fists and elbows.

Song Li smiled with Mitsuru’s lips, and then opened her mouth.

He managed to get his arms up in time to keep her from spitting corrosive blood into his face, but wetness splattered across his arms and chest, followed a fraction of a second later by searing pain.

Alex tumbled back, tearing the gloves from his hands. The black blood ate through his clothing with the hiss of butter on a hot grill. He screamed as it bubbled through his sleeves and the ballistic plating on his chest, his skin burning as he tugged frantically on his harness straps. The buckle finally snapped, and he flung the armor into the far wall, pulling his shirt off quickly after.

He ran his fingers across his torso. His upper body was speckled with pink burns, ranging from the size of a cigarette burn all the way up to the quarter-sized wound on his right forearm. Alex caught a glimpse of the yellow fat glistening at the center of the burn and thought that he might pass out.

He shot a panicked look at Mitsuru’s battered body, wondering why Song Li had not used his distraction to kill him. She was sprawled across the floor with what looked like a broken jaw, neither blinking nor breathing. Alex took a careful step toward her.

“Is that it?”

No response. Alex edged closer.

“Ms. Aoki? Are we done fighting?”

Nothing.

He stood above Mitsuru’s body, inky blood splashed across her chin and throat. The smell of rotten meat was outrageous, stinging his nose and bringing bile to the back of his throat. He crouched down beside the body, reaching out slowly, ready to pull his hand back at the slightest movement. When nothing happened, he slowly pried open her right eyelid.

A still black pupil in a sea of red.

No movement.

“Okay, I think we are…Alex, why did you take your shirt off?”

Alex stood hurriedly, not sure why he was embarrassed. Emily was watching and choking back laughter.

“Not that I mind all that much,” Emily teased. “I reactivated Ms. Aoki’s implant, and booted the most recent backup. The process should take just a few minutes, if what I’ve been told was accurate. Gaul claimed to have done it to the poor girl before, several times, to test the implant. The process sounded rather cruel.”

“What about Song Li?” Alex asked. “Won’t she just…?”

“She tried to possess me without killing me first,” Emily said, with a bit of a shrug. “It did not go well for either us, but particularly not for her.”

Emily stepped forward to check on Mitsuru. In the darkened room, Alex could just make out the blood streaked across Emily’s face, watery smears across her cheeks and under her nose.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. Thanks for your help,” Emily said. “How are you?”

“A little burnt,” Alex said, inspecting his arm, which was starting to hurt. “Nothing too bad.”

Emily knelt beside Mitsuru, and then took a syringe and a rubber cord from her purse.

“My God,” Alex said. “What else do you have in there?”

“Drugs and guns,” Emily said. “I already told you that. Can you turn the lights on, please?”

Alex slapped at the walls next to the front door until he found the panel. The track lighting activated all at once when he hit the second switch. Alex shaded his eyes and grimaced. Emily was unbothered, taking Mitsuru’s arm and laying it across her lap.

He stayed quiet while she hunted for a vein, impressed by how deftly she worked. She slid the needle into the vein, and then slowly depressed the plunger, emptying the contents into Mitsuru’s defunct circulatory system.

“What’s that?”

“Nanites, courtesy of the now-defunct Source Well, modified and supplemented with some blood extracted from poor Leigh. The girl has been a bit of a pin-cushion, just lately,” Emily said, capping the used syringe and returning it to her purse. “In a powerful organic acid solution, the kind of thing that liquifies tissue, but just gives metals a nice polish.”

“What?” Alex was horrified. “Why would you do that?”

“Mitsuru Aoki is still dead, backup or no,” Emily explained, looking a bit melancholy. “If we were to reboot her into a dead body, that would be awful!”

“So? Emily, what did you do?”

“The nanites have been programmed to store an image of Ms. Aoki’s body, and to reconstruct it as they consume the organic tissue, cell by cell. I’ve had the labs working on this since we took the Far Shores, based on some work Vivik did.” Emily took a step back as Mitsuru’s body started to bubble and hiss. “This is a modification of the process by which a new Anathema is produced, if you’re curious. I’m hoping that it works the same way, without any of the considerable drawbacks.”

Alex watched, mesmerized by the horror of Mitsuru’s dissolution.

“You probably want to step back a bit,” Emily said, pulling him away. “Actually, you probably don’t want to watch this at all.”

Alex turned away queasily, the spell suddenly broken. Behind him, Alex could hear squelching and sizzling sounds that turned his stomach. His arm had started to ache terribly, the pain increasing by the moment.

“While we are waiting,” Emily said, taking his arm, “let me at least kill the pain.”

She put her fingers against the nape of his neck.

The pain stopped almost immediately.

“There,” she said, patting him on the cheek. “All better?”

There was something like a scream, what sounded like to Alex a simultaneous combination of all the sounds a human mouth could make. He turned around in time to see Mitsuru sit bolt upright and then cough up a coagulated mass of black jelly.

It seemed politer not to say anything until she finished.

Mitsuru struggled and wretched like a cat with a recalcitrant hairball.

“What…the…fuck?” Mitsuru gasped, looking at them with bewildered, bloodshot eyes. “Where am I? What is happening?” She blinked hard, and then her eyes finally focused. “What the…Alex? Emily? What are the two of you doing?” She gave them a hard look as she peeled herself off the floor, black gunk clinging to her skin. “Where are we? And why aren’t you wearing a shirt, Alex?”

He was saved from having to make a response when Mitsuru’s eyes rolled back in her head, and she toppled over, her cheek resting in a pool of her own congealed black blood.

Twelve

Day Three

I don’t want to sound ungrateful, Emily, but I’m having a lot of trouble with this.

I think that’s to be expected, Emily thought, setting aside her sunglasses. You’ve been through a great deal, and for better or worse, you don’t remember quite a bit of it. That must be jarring. You were dead, after all.

Was I really? Mitsuru held up her hand so that it was an outline against the sun and flexed her fingers. I don’t feel dead.

Neither do I, Emily thought. That doesn’t change the fact that I died. That’s the essence of the Anathema philosophy – the body must die for an Operator to transcend their biological limitations.

I don’t know. That sounds like religion.

It’s not a matter of faith, I promise you, Emily replied. There’s no need to believe. I’ve seen – experienced, really – it for myself. It’s a sort of transcendence.

Nonsense. Mitsuru was annoyed. Transcending what, exactly?

I’m honestly not sure.

Mitsuru laughed, and as always, it sounded crueler than she had meant it to.

May I tell you what I’m sure of, Ms. Aoki? Being dead or being alive doesn’t matter nearly as much as being able to think and talk and breathe. If you can manage that, the rest is a technicality.

You sound like Gaul. I don’t remember you being so assured.

Emily laughed.

I hear that a great deal, just lately, Emily thought. As much as I hate to share the credit, I think Alex might have started the process. Then, John Parson reshaped me.

What class is your protocol now?

I’ve never bothered to test it, Emily thought. It fluctuates, I’m sure, based on various circumstances, but it gets the job done, I would say.

Mitsuru glared, and an Etheric probe flared to life, testing the boundaries of Emily’s mental shielding.

Emily blocked her for a moment, smiling at Mitsuru. Then she allowed it gracefully.

Mitsuru was not gentle.

You were B-Class, at best, Mitsuru said, with accustomed severity. Now…

Emily snapped her fingers and the probe dispelled.

The possibilities are endless, if you just look at things the right way.

And have the right friends, Mitsuru thought. You’ve been fortunate, Miss Muir.

My entire family is dead, Emily thought, giving Mitsuru an unworried smile. By most standards, I’m dead. Everyone seems to find me terribly inconvenient, and I’m often excluded from activities in the club I’ve joined. Do you really think I’m lucky?

Maybe it’s bad luck.

That may be, Emily agreed, reclining her chair so that the sun fell on her more fully. I try to live in the moment, Ms. Aoki.

That aside, Mitsuru thought, gesturing at the scene around her. Why are we here? How are we here?

They were sitting poolside in the sunny courtyard of a pink stucco hotel. The day was perfect, quite warm, with a steady breeze, cotton candy strands of cloud stretched from one horizon to the other. The pool was like a round-cut sapphire, blue and glimmering, encircled with umbrellas and cabanas. The air was filled with odors of grilling chicken and the ocean, somewhere nearby.

Why not? Don’t you like it? Emily glanced at her. You must know where we are.

This is Baja, a weekend trip I took with Rebecca not long after I became an Operator. Mitsuru stared around in wonder. Everything is the same. Even the weather.

This is a simulation, Ms. Aoki. The stress of rebooting your backup triggered the psychic defense routines that were implanted in you. You are in shock, and I think your guardian angel suspects you are being tortured.

That’s not quite right, Mitsuru said. I’m not sure what this is.

You haven’t had a body for a while. Your brain is protecting you from damage by substituting a more pleasant reality, cherry picked from happier memories. All the design of Director Levy, no doubt.

If this is my trauma simulation, then why are you here?

I have enough telepathy to worm my way inside your head, so I thought we would come and explain things. Besides, when I checked on you, it looked nice. Henderson is quite dreary.

I can accept that. Mitsuru pointed at the pool, and the young man floating nearby, clutching a pair of pool noodles and kicking lazily. Why is Alex here?

I thought it would be mean not to bring him along, Emily said. And I wasn’t sure that you would trust me.

“I just wanted to go swimming,” Alex said. “Don’t worry, I won’t eavesdrop.”

Mitsuru folded her arms and gave him an icy stare. Alex paddled mournfully to the opposite side of the pool.

If I really was dead, I can’t remember it.

Come back to the Far Shores with us, Ms. Aoki.

Mitsuru. You’ve earned that much.

Emily smiled.

Come back, Mitsuru, Emily thought. I’ll have Vivik show you everything. I don’t keep secrets, you see. I don’t believe in them.

I just don’t understand how any of this can be happening. A backup? How is that possible?

Your implant was designed by Gaul Thule. He never offered anyone else the same opportunity. Did you never wonder why?

The sun had started to work on Mitsuru, slowly forcing her muscles to relax as they warmed.

I can only tell you what I know to be true. The Auditors betrayed and killed you, because they were afraid of your protocol. The Anathema enslaved and exploited your body and abilities, even after death. Your mentor implanted a device in you that was secretly maintaining a copy of your identity. I’ve orchestrated the activation of that backup and restored your body, incidentally transforming you into a new sort of Anathema. You’ve been through a great deal.

Mitsuru grimaced, entranced by the movements of her hand.

How are you different from anyone else, then? Mitsuru asked. You just want to use me.

I won’t lie to you or try and make you do anything. I hope you’ll help me, Mitsuru Aoki, but I won’t try to manipulate or control you. Ask Alex, if you don’t believe me.

“I mean, she hasn’t done it lately,” Alex said, shrugging. “That I know of.”

“What a ringing endorsement…” Emily made a face. “You’re no help at all.”

Alex blanched and nearly tumbled off his floating perch.

“Wait! That didn’t come out quite…”

“You are the least helpful boy, really.”

“She really does seem different, Ms. Aoki,” Alex said, climbing out of the pool. “I’m not sure how to describe it, but if she was up to something bad, I think Emily would probably tell you to your face, like it was no big deal.”

“Alex!”

“What? You probably would. I think you can trust her, is what I’m saying,” Alex said, pulling a towel around his shoulders. “I do.”

Emily blushed and smiled.

“I don’t know,” Mitsuru said. “I need some time to think.”

That’s what the simulation is for, Emily thought enthusiastically. With time dilation in effect, you can spend weeks in here and it will only take a minute or two, back in the real world.

“Good. I have a lot that I want to think about.”

Let me tell you one more thing to occupy your time, then, Emily said, forcing Alex out of their telepathic conference. He pouted for a moment, and then made for the bar when he realized they were not going to relent. The night you saved Alex from the Weir was the most heavily orchestrated moment in recent human history. To all the principals involved, except one, whether Alex lived or died was immaterial. What was important was that you survived, Mitsuru, or did not. Because, honestly, everyone thinks you’re the deciding factor.

***

“This was a trap, wasn’t it?”

Emily laughed uproariously, stirring her margarita with a little plastic sword. Hundreds of the novelty stirrers were stored beside the dormant register at the untended but fully stocked bar.

“This is not a trap,” Emily said. “This is a resort.”

“This is just like the last time, in Thailand.”

“It was Vietnam. Ha Long Bay. How can you not remember that?”

“I try not to put much thought into it.”

“Is that so?” Emily blinked, her features quite still. “I think of it often. It was one of my life’s happiest episodes.”

Alex hurried over to the bar, though his beer wasn’t empty. He felt a sudden need for something stronger.

“I’m a fucking idiot,” Alex muttered, searching through the bottles neatly arranged on glass shelves, still too inexperienced of a drinker to know what he might prefer from the vast selection of liquors. “I fucking fell for it again.”

“You’re being overdramatic,” Emily said, sitting on the other side of the bar and hanging her purse prudently on the provided hook, as if she expected to be served. “What is it exactly that you suspect me of doing?”

Alex kept his eyes on the bottles, one metallic label passing by after another, unread.

“You said I could go swimming to pass the time, while we waited for Ms. Aoki to wake up.”

“What’s wrong with that?”

“You made it sound quick,” Alex said, grabbing a green bottle at random. “Now we’re stuck here for…what? Weeks? Months?”

“I don’t know how long. That depends on how fast your friend gets herself together. I brought you along because she trusts you. This is for Ms. Aoki’s benefit. You don’t have to stay – you can go sit in a hot room with two unconscious women until this is over, if you prefer.” She eyed Alex with worry as he put the green bottle on the bar. “And I don’t think you should drink that.”

“That’s it, isn’t it? It’s not your fault. It’s mine,” Alex said, sighing as he took a pair of pint glasses from under the bar. “I don’t really want to go back and sit there in the dark, by myself. I might even be able to help Ms. Aoki if I stay. I just think that if I stay here, I’ll get myself into trouble.”

“I’m serious, Alex. Don’t drink that,” Emily warned him. “It’s crème de menthe. And what sort of trouble do you mean?”

“You know what I mean,” Alex said, opening the bottle. “I kissed you.”

“Don’t worry about it too much. You just got a little overexcited, that’s all. I needed to borrow some of your strength, I wasn’t flirting,” Emily said, wincing as he poured a healthy measure of crème de menthe in both glasses. “I’m not planning to tell anyone, much less Eerie. I feel it all, remember? If she cries, then I’ll probably cry, too. Please, please don’t drink that.”

“You see? If I stay, things will only go farther. I can’t trust myself around you.”

Alex picked up his glass and motioned to her.

“You’re acting like I’m interested,” Emily said, pushing the pint glass aside. “I just told you that I’m not.”

She put forward the glass containing the remainder of her neon-yellow margarita, now mostly ice, and Alex clinked his pint glass against it.

“Alex, please, for God’s sake, don’t…”

Alex pinched his nose and threw back the half-full glass of crème de menthe.

He promptly coughed it back up, spreading a thin scum of white liquid and foam across the floor. Emily wrinkled her nose at the suddenly prevalent smell of mint.

“I told you not to do that,” Emily observed. “How drunk are you?”

“Very drunk,” Alex said, wiping his mouth. “Way drunker than I expected.”

“You drank almost an entire pitcher of margaritas,” Emily said, rattling the glass in her cup sadly. “What did you expect?”

“I don’t know,” Alex said. “What the fuck was that shit? Why was it so minty?”

“I told you not to drink it. That was crème de menthe.”

“Is that French for disgusting mint slime?”

“I suppose that’s a matter of perspective.”

Alex belched, and then stumbled to the sink inset in the bar, nearly dropping his glass as he struggled with the tap.

Emily sighed and then filled the glass for him.

“What are you doing, Alex?”

“I figured I’d get really drunk before I had you send me back,” Alex said, spilling water across his chest as he drank. “Since you said I’d having nothing to do but sit in a dark room.”

“That seems like a terrible way to pass the time…”

“It’s worked for me before.”

“…and no matter how drunk you get, you’ll be completely sober when you leave the simulation.”

“Oh.” Alex considered it. “That’s probably for the best. I was a little worried about what sort of hangover I was going to have.”

Alex eyed the bottles behind the bar.

“No, no, no!” Emily hurried around the bar and dragged him away. “That was not an invitation to get as drunk as possible.”

“Are you sure?” Alex dragged his feet as she pulled. “Because it sounded like one.”

“Please behave yourself! This is all for the benefit of Ms. Aoki’s recovery. I don’t need to have to take care of you as well.”

“You’ve been reading by the pool for hours,” Alex said. “What are you talking about?”

“Yes, but what if she did need something from me? It’s not that I don’t want to help, it’s that I haven’t been invited to.”

“So, you need to be ready, just in case.”

“Exactly.”

“Which is why you’ve had like, four drinks so far.”

“I’ve had two-and-a-half, with dinner,” Emily replied primly. “You finished my third drink. Remember?”

“I did?”

“You did.”

“That was rude.”

Emily nodded.

“Sorry, Emily.”

She smiled in a resigned fashion, steering him into one of the many vacant seats scattered about the covered porch. The setting sun gave everything a coppery hue, and Emily’s skin shone with a ruddy warmth beneath her trim bathing dress.

“I feel like I say that a lot,” Alex sputtered, cheeks reddening. “I feel like I’m always apologizing to you.”

“Why do you think that is?”

Alex laughed.

“You sound like Ms. Levy,” he said, slurring just slightly. “Turning the question and shit. Say what you mean.”

Emily smiled and sat down across the table at him. For the first time in his recent memory, she looked tired.

“What is it that you want me to forgive you for?”

“What?”

“You keep apologizing,” Emily said, popping an ice cube into her mouth. “What did you do to me that you feel so bad about, Alex dear?”

He looked away, his cheeks the approximate color of the evening sky behind him.

“Should I forgive you for not falling in love with me?” Emily smiled, but her eyes were wet. “Is that it?”

“No. It’s…”

He gestured, unable to find the words.

“You chose Eerie,” Emily said. “I may never understand exactly why, but I accept that. I’ve moved on to other, better things. You didn’t break my heart, because I only thought that I maybe liked you. Consider yourself absolved.”

“I told you, that’s not it!”

Alex’s shout stunned them both. When he continued, it was in a more reasonable tone, with an expression of chagrin.

“That’s not what it’s about. This…this is about you,” Alex said. “You died, Emily. You died, and I never even noticed how desperate you’d become, the position I put you in…none of it. Not one fucking thing. I was too busy to notice…no, to want to notice.”

“Oh, Alex. You’ve already told me this…”

“You died,” Alex said, looking at her blearily. “That is the very worst thing. Worse than Margot, worse than everything.”

“It’s okay. I made the best of it,” Emily said. “Let it go.”

“No, I want you to…”

“Alex, listen to me,” Emily said, her tone silencing him. “I am not just your ex-girlfriend.”

He looked away.

“My life is not about you. Whatever happened to me, whatever does happen, that’s the result of my decisions,” Emily said, prodding him in the shoulder. “I’m am not your mistake.”

“Emily, you don’t…”

“I’m an empath, Alex. You know that I understand perfectly.”

“I just, it was so sad, when you…”

“That’s enough,” Emily snapped, pushing away from the table. “I was starting to think better of you, Alexander Warner. I had started to fool myself into thinking that you’d learned something, that you were finally ready to take other people and their feelings seriously. This evening, however, has done a great deal to disabuse me of any such notion.”

Alex buried his head in his arms.

“I was drunk,” he protested. “Am drunk. I didn’t mean…”

“That’s pretty much the worst thing you could have said,” Emily remarked icily. “What a cop out! Are you ready to go back to your dark room?”

Alex looked up at her hopefully.

“Maybe we could start this conversation over,” Alex suggested. “I feel like I could do a much better job this time.”

“Not a chance,” Emily said. “Are you ready to go?”

“I feel like I said the wrong things...”

“You sure did.”

“Emily, please. I don’t want to leave it on this sort of…”

“Are you ready?”

Alex looked at her imploringly. Emily folded her arms and waited.

“Okay, fine,” Alex said, throwing up his arms. “If you want to be a child about it, then…”

He was in a dark room, the air hot and deathly still, the abruptness of his sobriety making his headache somehow worse.

Mitsuru Aoki lay nearby, on a stripped mattress that Alex had dragged down into the living room from upstairs. Her absolute stillness looked more like death than sleep. Propped in a chair in the corner, Emily reposed in what looked like an uncomfortable position. The hum of the sleeping television and the gentle sounds of the women’s respiration were punctuated by occasional settling sounds as the night grudgingly cooled the house a paltry few degrees. Alex rubbed his eyes, wincing at the memory of his last few hours in Ms. Aoki’s protective simulation.

“Oh, man,” Alex muttered. “I think I just fucked everything up.”

***

“I feel ill at ease.”

“That’s completely understandable. You died, and then your body was hijacked and put to uses that you cannot recall. That’s a tremendous amount of trauma to undergo.”

“I died.”

“Yes.”

“It doesn’t feel like it,” Mitsuru said, paying an inordinate amount of attention to the small movements that were omnipresent in her nominally still body, lying on a yoga mat placed atop the beach sand. “It feels like a dream.”

“What feels like a dream?” Rebecca lay on an adjacent mat, sunglasses on her forehead, watching Mitsuru with her warm brown eyes. “The time you lost? Or right now?”

“They both feel that way,” Mitsuru said, working her fingers into the coarse sand beside the mat, through the sunbaked top layer and down into the wet grains below. “I feel as if I have woken from a nightmare into another nightmare.”

“Do you think that this simulation has contributed?” Rebecca gestured broadly, a gesture that took in the entirety of the resort around them, from the palm-thatched cabanas to the orderly green of the cultivated land above the beach, and ended by indicating herself. “I wonder if this experience would feel more real outside of a telepathic environment.”

Mitsuru shrugged.

“If I was working with someone who doubted the reality of their surroundings, I would not conduct the sessions in Disneyland. Maybe this doesn’t feel real because it is not real.”

“It’s not just what’s around me,” Mitsuru said, an irritable look crossing her face. “I’m not talking about the outside world.”

Mitsuru flexed her fingers, forcing them through the sand until her fingernails pressed against her palms.

“Emily Muir said that Karim took the shot that killed me,” Mitsuru said flatly. “She said that was your call. Is any of that true?”

“I don’t know,” Rebecca admitted sadly. “I have all of my memories up to the moment the simulation was created, but nothing since it was last updated.” She shrugged, adjusting the filmy scarf that protected her neck from the sun. “Based on what you’ve told me, this version of me is almost two years old.”

“You don’t know if you ordered Karim to kill me.”

“I don’t know,” Rebecca agreed. “Are you asking if I would have done that?”

“Maybe,” Mitsuru said, rubbing her sand-covered hands together, fascinated by the sensation. “Would you?”

“Yes,” Rebecca said, without a moment of hesitation. “If I truly felt that your protocol was out of control.”

Rebecca watched Mitsuru closely for any sort of reaction, but Mitsuru appeared to be still.

“Assuming that’s what happened,” Rebecca said, “how does that makes you feel?”

“About you?”

“Sure.”

“I should be angry,” Mitsuru said. “That’s a betrayal of our friendship, at least. I trusted you, Becca.”

“And now?”

“Now what?”

“Do you still trust me?” Rebecca asked. “Or do you feel betrayed?”

“I’m not sure,” Mitsuru admitted. “I don’t think I feel anything that definite.”

“Do you feel numb?”

“That’s not quite it,” Mitsuru said. “Do you think maybe I’m still dead?”

“What do you mean?”

“I wonder if my implant truly was creating backups of my identity. I don’t believe in…in anything, really. You know that, Becca. Religion and philosophy, all of that, it’s never meant anything to me.”

“I know,” Rebecca agreed, nodding. “You’ve always been the practical sort, concerned with the here-and-now.”

“I don’t believe in the soul,” Mitsuru said. “I worry that I’ve lost mine, nonetheless. Nothing feels as if it matters. Nothing feels any which way at all.”

“You say that you feel nothing,” Rebecca said softly, looking at her with concern, “but I can feel your pain from here, Mitzi.”

“I’m not sure that it is pain. Distress is a better word, I think. More fitting,” Mitsuru said, turning on to her side, her back to Rebecca. “This all feels wrong to me.”

“This may not be pleasant to hear, but I believe if you can feel pain, Mitzi, then you can still feel everything else.”

“I cut myself, last night.”

Mitsuru’s words lingered, hanging between them like a curtain.

Rebecca was abstractly glad to be a simulation. She felt a bizarre moment of pity for her real self, who would inherit the consequences of this situation, and then realized she was empathizing with Mitsuru’s own feelings of unreality.

Being an empath was complicated, Rebecca reflected. Being a telepathic simulation of an empath, perhaps even more so.

There was only one question to ask, a therapist’s standby.

“How did that make you feel?”

“I remember how it used to make me feel,” Mitsuru said, her tone growing just slightly shrill. “I remember relief and shame rolled together, in a massive wave that would obliterate everything else. I remember anxiety before and regret after. I remember how it hurt, and how it felt another way, too. There was always something beneath the pain, something…not pleasurable, exactly, but desirable, almost sweet.”

Rebecca nodded, though Mitsuru had her back turned.

“None of that happened,” Mitsuru said bitterly. “There was nothing but a moment of pain, and a little blood.”

“I see,” Rebecca said. “That must have been very disappointing.”

“Yes. I suppose that’s what it was. Disappointing.”

“What were you hoping for, when you cut yourself?”

“A release. A way to end the tension.”

“Why do you feel so tense, Mitsuru?”

“I don’t know. You’re the empath. You know everything. Why don’t you tell me?”

“I don’t know what is inside of you any more than you do,” Rebecca said. “I know exactly what you know, Mitzi, and nothing more. I can’t tell you how you feel, because you don’t know yourself.”

“Very helpful, Becca. First you kill me, and now you can’t make me feel better about it.” Mitsuru tried to laugh and failed miserably. “If you can’t help me, then what’s the point to all this? Just a revisit of a beach vacation?”

“A vacation is never a bad idea,” Rebecca said. “And I never said that I couldn’t help you. I said that I couldn’t tell you how you felt, and I meant it. That’s what we are here to find out, together.”

Mitsuru said nothing, instead focusing on the sensation of her feet resting against the hot sand.

“I can tell you one thing that might help,” Rebecca offered. “Would you like to hear it?”

“Why not?”

“You said that you don’t feel anything,” Rebecca said. “We both know that isn’t true. You feel so much pain and anxiety that it saturates the atmosphere around you. I can see it, shining out from inside of your skin. Dislocation and discomfort, tension and frustration, and above all, a terrible, consuming fear. That’s what I feel behind your words, gnawing at the back of your mind. It’s horrible, isn’t it?”

Mitsuru did not reply.

“But if you can feel that,” Rebecca said, “then you can feel good again. If you feel anything, even negative emotions, that means you can still feel anything at all. You aren’t broken, Mitzi. You are hurt and confused and lost, but that’s not nothing. That’s a place to start from.”

***

Alex stepped out of the shower and wiped condensation from the mirror, staring at himself until the glass fogged over again. He dripped on the floor until he was reasonably dry, and then dressed quickly, leaving his damp socks in the bathroom sink and going barefoot.

He checked the time on his phone. Only an hour had passed since Emily had kicked him out of the simulation for being an asshole. Alex winced at the memory and wondered how much longer this was going to take.

He walked to the back room, where the two women were passed out, apparently asleep. Mitsuru was entirely healed, but her clothing was torn and gore-spattered, a reminder of the horrible state she had been in. Emily’s expression was peaceful, her hands folded neatly across her stomach, her legs straight out on the recliner.

Alex stared for a long time, first at Mitsuru, and then at Emily.

He walked across the room and sat down on the floor beside Emily’s chair, putting his head in his hands.

“I don’t get it,” he said. “What is it about you that brings out the worst in me?”

Even as he said it, Alex knew it was unfair. Emily was not at fault for his behavior. It was still hard to trust her, but he had to admit that she had done nothing but help since she had returned to his life. She was not the complication, Alex thought, it was the way he felt about her that was complicated.

“I’m sorry I was a dick, again,” Alex said. “I hate the way I treat you. I hate the way I treat everyone. It’s so stupid. I can only see it after I’ve already driven everybody away.”

He moped and stewed, full of self-recrimination.

“Okay, cheer up,” Emily said, tapping him on the shoulder. “Apology accepted.”

Alex looked up, and his eyes were dazzled by the blazing Mexican sun reflecting up at him from the deserted beach and the lazy waves of the low tide. Emily was wearing a bikini and had sunscreen smeared liberally across her nose and cheeks.

She noticed him staring and laughed.

“I know, I know,” she said, wiping her cheeks. “I don’t need it here! Whoever got skin cancer from a telepathic simulation? It’s force of habit, I suppose. I feel too weird going out in the sun without it.”

“You brought me back?” He glanced around. “Did you hear everything I said?”

“It’s hardly my fault! You were being intensely moody right next to me,” Emily said. “It was bringing down my vacation in Ms. Aoki’s trauma implant.”

Alex lay back in the sand, his eyes fixed on the faded blue above him.

“It doesn’t matter,” he said. “You deserve an apology. Sorry I waited until you were sleeping.”

“I forgive you, silly. Now, stop apologizing,” she said, smiling at him. “You need to let it all go, Alex. I don’t want your guilt, and I don’t want you to think badly of me. Don’t take this the wrong way, but I think you make too much of what happened between us.”

“Do I?” Alex considered the novel concept. “I never thought about it like that.”

“I’m not bad, and I refuse to be tragic,” Emily said, her hands resting on her hips. “I’m not even your ex-girlfriend, because we never dated. I’m just your friend, or at least, that is what I’d like to be.”

Alex sat up, shading his eyes from the sun to look at her.

“I don’t remember,” he said. “Were you always smarter than me?”

“I think so,” Emily said, giggling. “You make up for it in charm, though.”

“Do I?”

“Not at all,” Emily said. “You are the least romantic boy, but I’m fond of you despite that.” She extended her hand to him. “Would you like to swim? The water is perfect, no matter when you go in.”

***

“Thanks again for bringing me back,” Alex said, cutting eagerly into his steak. “It was fucking boring, just sitting around that empty house. Thought I was gonna go nuts.”

“You were only there for an hour,” Emily said, stirring her margarita with a straw. “It couldn’t have been that bad.”

Alex shrugged and started eating.

“This is amazing,” he said, his mouth half full. “I didn’t even think about food when I was in my own simulation. I just did yoga with Rebecca and shit.”

“That surprises me quite a bit, honestly,” Emily said, skewering a piece of melon from the bowl in front of her with a toothpick. “Given free reign, I’d assume a growing boy’s imagination would run toward something a little more…” Emily gestured with the toothpick. “You know. Even if Rebecca set some PG limits, I’d still think there’d be beer and video games.”

“It was super wholesome. What the fuck? I got screwed.”

Emily laughed.

“Maybe Rebecca is trying to reform you,” Emily suggested. “Change your evil ways.”

“Maybe. It really could be. That’s the kind of thing she’d do, you know. She’s always trying to fix everybody.”

“I can’t say I completely object, you know. You are a remarkably lazy and self-centered boy, given the opportunity.”

Alex said nothing and sawed into his baked potato.

“I didn’t mean to upset you. I’m just being honest.”

“Yeah,” Alex said, smearing butter on the potato. “I know.”

“I’ll stop, if you want.”

“No, don’t. I need to hear it.”

“Yes. You do.”

“I don’t want to hear it, but…”

“I understand.”

“What are you gonna do from here?” Alex asked, reaching for the beer that the unmemorable waiter brought for him. He was being careful and pacing himself, so it was only his third. “What happens after Mitsuru’s fixed up?”

“Back to the Far Shores. What else?”

“That’s my question. What else are you up to?”

“Why do you always think I’m up to something?”

“You always are,” Alex said. “We both know it.”

“That’s not very flattering,” Emily said, pouting. “You promised to be nice.”

“I’m being super nice,” Alex said. “If you get to be honest, then I’m gonna be honest too.”

“I’m not sure that’s entirely fair, but fine,” Emily said, spearing another piece of melon. “I did all of this for a variety of reasons, but lack of time was definitely among them. I needed a few more weeks than I had to complete all my various tasks and meet all my obligations, and I needed much longer than that to get Ms. Aoki back into usable shape. Nothing is free, after all,” Emily said, popping the cube of melon into her mouth. “I’ve made a lot of promises, to the sort of people it’s best not to disappoint.”

“I wish you hadn’t done that. It makes me nervous,” Alex said. “What did you need more time for?”

“To teach you a few important things, assuming you want to learn,” Emily said. “I was prepared to share a few little secrets with you, but then you decided not to behave, and I changed my mind.”

“Sorry.”

“No more apologies.”

“Yeah. Sorry.”

“Cut it out. Do you want to learn what I have to teach you? I won’t make you do anything, but you should consider it seriously.”

“I don’t know. What sort of stuff are we talking about?”

“Secrets, like I told you.” Emily finished her margarita, then fished one of the ice cubes from the glass. “It’ll definitely come in handy.”

“I wish you wouldn’t be so vague,” Alex said, pushing his empty plate aside and patting his stomach contentedly. “But, I mean, I’ve gotta know. You’ve got me all curious.”

“Oh, good! I think you’ll be glad you did.”

“Maybe. When do we start?”

“As soon as I finish my drink,” Emily said, crunching ice beneath her teeth. “We’ve just enough time, I think, judging by Ms. Aoki’s progress.”

“She’s still in rough shape, then?”

“Oh, yes, she’s a bundle of PTSD and psychic trauma, not to mention the usual feelings of helplessness and betrayal. Dying does take it out of you, Alex dear.”

“I hope never to find out,” Alex said, shivering.

“We all die,” Emily pointed out. “It’s a universal affliction.”

“That’s profound,” Alex said sourly, finishing his beer. “Not you, though, right? Now that you’re Anathema, the nanites just replace dead cells. That’s what I heard, anyway. Will you live forever?”

“I don’t think any of the Anathema have been around long enough to exhaust a normal human lifetime, but John Parson told me that every copy the nanites generate is just slightly degraded. Slow mutation and eventually cellular breakdown. Like cancer, I suppose. Errors in replication catch up with everyone,” Emily explained. “Even Anathema. I’m not immortal, nor do I believe any of the rest of the Anathema to be. Unless John is. Which, I suppose, is always I possibility.”

“I don’t know much about him. Seems weird they never even talked about him during the Audits training,” Alex said. “What does he do?”

“Another good question,” Emily said. “I can’t answer that.”

“Because you don’t know? Or because you don’t want to tell me?”

“Can’t it be both?”

“Fine. Be like that,” Alex said. “Are you done with your damn ice?”

Emily turned the empty glass over on the table.

“Yes.”

“Okay, then. Where do we start?”

“Let’s begin with something familiar,” Emily suggested, her eyes full of mischief. “How about some sunset beach yoga?”

Thirteen

Day Three

Alex performed sun salutations facing the water and the ruddy glow of the sunset, determinedly not watching Emily flow gracefully from pose to pose. He had breathed a private sigh of relief when she went to change from the bikini she had been wearing all day, but the Lycra and Spandex ensemble she returned in was not significantly less distracting.

He noticed her laughing out of the corner of his eye, and belatedly remembered that nothing was private, where an empath with a telepathic link to his brain was concerned.

“It’s not my fault,” Alex said, wobbling as he sunk into a deep lunge. “You have to know how good you look.”

“That doesn’t mean I don’t like hearing it,” Emily said, smiling crookedly. “I just think it’s funny how much it bothers you.”

“Yeah,” Alex said, sliding into Warrior pose. “Funny.”

“You’re so defensive,” Emily teased, moving smoothly into Downward Dog, and forcing him to hurriedly look away. “Are you having second thoughts, Alex dear? Are you experiencing feelings of sudden regret?”

“Every day of my life,” Alex muttered. “When do we start?”

“We’ve already started,” Emily said, turning serious. “You need to get in the right frame of mind. Let’s try a new routine, okay? A few of the poses might be new to you, but just follow my lead and keep an even pace.”

Alex began to mirror her movements, and despite his expectations, his thoughts were quickly occupied with maintaining the poses and controlling his movements. They moved gradually from one position to another, his hips opening and the tightness leaving his lower back. They settled down onto their mats, and the poses became more strenuous, and the pace increased.

Alex felt the strain in his calves and thighs, his core and his shoulders, an ache the faded pleasantly into the background as he continued the routine. He followed Emily back to his feet and into a balance segment, taking on evolving poses that started with Tree and Eagle, and progressed from there into more difficult and demanding positions and movements that he had never performed before.

The struggle grew more intense as they went, moving deeper into uncharted territory, and his arms and chest trembled with exertion. He would have asked for mercy, but something about the routine affected him, and even as he battled to hold on to a supported headstand, he felt no real desire to stop and rest. He was not curious what might come next or concerned with what he had done already.

The sun stayed right on the horizon. The wind blew steadily, drying the sweat from his body, but it never became cold. The sand sloughed from his skin easily as he moved, and the spray from the ocean as it slowly roused itself kept him from growing too hot.

Emily pushed on until he had nothing left, until his arms and legs shook with every move, and then they moved to their backs. The stretches became longer and slower, easing his tired body into a state of satiated complacence.

They ended with their eyes closed, limbs extended, hearts open to the sky.

“I think you’re about ready,” Emily said. May I tell you a secret?

***

“I never wanted to be alive in the first place,” Mitsuru said. “Why would I be happy with a second chance?”

“There are two ways you can look at this,” Rebecca said, sitting opposite her in the bubbling hot tub. “You can consider it a continuation of a life that made you unhappy, or you can view it as a fresh start, unencumbered by the baggage of your previous existence.”

“You sound like a self-help book.”

“I’m a psychologist. Self-help books sound like me.”

“It’s strange that you aren’t smoking,” Mitsuru said, adjusting her position so the jets pummeled her lower back. “It seems wrong, somehow.”

“This is your simulation,” Rebecca said. “You wanted non-smoking.”

“Doesn’t it bother you?”

“No, because I’m not all of me. I’m just a therapist, here, and a friendly, familiar face.”

“You’ve been my best friend for years,” Mitsuru said. “Or you used to be. In a past life, maybe.”

“I’m still your best friend,” Rebecca assured her. “That part of me is definitely here with you.”

“I don’t understand any of this. Everyone was already afraid of me, and what I might do, if I lost control of my protocol. Even I was afraid.”

“Yes, that’s true. We were afraid of what you might become, but we were also hopeful.”

“You might have been. I never was.”

“Are you sure that it always felt this way? I remember when you were happier.”

“Younger and dumber,” Mitsuru said. “That’s all.”

“I’m not so sure. Our outlook reflects our experiences, Mitzi. The years have sharpened you, and your experiences have made it harder for you to see what I see in you.”

“What do you see in me? I really don’t understand,” Mitsuru said, looking at her hands with an unhealthy intensity. “I see a dead woman, who only knows how to ruin and destroy.”

“You aren’t dead. You are reincarnated, perhaps, or recovered, but not dead. You never died, if you really think about it. You share a body and the memories of a woman who died, but that wasn’t you. You have the same past as that woman, but you don’t need to share her pain, or be bound by the constraints she placed on herself.”

“What am I, Becca? I don’t feel anything.”

“That’s not true. I feel tremendous pain and confusion, just being near to you. You hurt far too much to claim to feel nothing. As for what you are, well, that’s up to you to decide. That’s probably what hurts so much.”

***

Emily whispered a word in his ear.

Or perhaps it was something more, a vast and complicated thing, like an impossibly faceted stone that transfixed his eyes. Alex was reminded of the feeling just before a migraine set in, and the feeling that followed an orgasm.

There was pain and a strange sense of elevation. Fear took hold of him and shook the air from his lungs. He exhaled and swore that he could see his breath.

The word was lightning in his brain, vivid blue fading into white, like the hottest flame at the end of a blowtorch, a fraction of a second of transmission. It was as if he held an exposed electrical main clenched between his teeth, rather than the pencil that Emily had wedged there, when the seizures began. He stared at the stars, seeing only the black absence between them, the vast empty spaces where light itself was subdued, and felt a great force pushing him down into the soft sand.

His skull was like wet and decaying newspaper wrapped around the shivering tissue of his mind, and his thoughts were liquid metal, a peculiar and dull species of quicksilver that leaked out his eyes and nose, along with the blood that Emily gently dabbed away with a handkerchief.

Alex meant to cry out, the pain was so terrible, as his eyes changed. He clutched his face, feeling the tissue squirm and deform, the live eye and the dull one both singing out their distress at the rapid change in form.

The agony came to an end before he could give voice to it.

He moved his hands away slowly, and gingerly, he took in the world around him with the new eyes that her word had given him.

***

“My protocol is too dangerous,” Mitsuru said. “I can’t do anything but destroy, and I can’t control it. What use is it to bring me back?”

“Is it really true that you are so dangerous, so out-of-control?” Rebecca asked. “We were working on that and making progress. Don’t you remember?”

“I do, but…”

“You can do more than destroy,” Rebecca said, putting her hand on Mitsuru’s arm. “Much more! And you are very much in control of it. That’s the problem, isn’t it? Destruction is not all that you can do with your protocol – that’s what you want it to do.”

***

“There are three impossible words that I’ve been told on that same theme,” Emily said quietly, wiping away the bloody tears that leaked across his cheeks. “I’ve only told you the first, the one that allows you to see true grey. Not a mixture of black and white, or a comingled pattern, but the real and actual absence of color. Don’t worry. This won’t last. You’ll forget the word in just a moment, and then everything will return to normal. I thought that you needed to see it, Alex. This is where the Church exists, where it will come from.”

The light of the stars had gained a new quality of sharpness that pricked at his optic nerve and burst the veins in his sclera. The seizure had passed, but his fingers tapped compulsively against the sand. He could feel each grain with painful acuity, and the sensation was like standing after his legs had gone to sleep.

“The next time you see the Ether, it might look very different to you for a moment, but don’t worry. You still aren’t seeing it for what it is, because that’s impossible for us. You’re just seeing it from another perspective.” Emily brushed the hair from his eyes. “You should be glad that I’m not telling you the second two words. There are…things, hidden deeper into the monochrome range,” she said, the open fear on her face looking very out of place to Alex. “They live there, or exist there, at any rate. Things that move, and, well, you don’t want to see them. The Church of Sleep, and other things. Maybe worse ones. I don’t truly know.”

She turned away, and Alex had no idea how long she took to compose herself, or if she was even still behind him at all. He was entranced by the cruel light of the stars.

“Marcus told me that when the first colonists arrived in Central, there was writing everywhere – signs, books, documents, art. A whole body of language, just like you’d expect from a city, I suppose. It did not need to be learned. Just looking at the words was enough to know what they meant, how to speak and write them, the sound of the words and their purpose. A perfect language, with a unique word for each and everything, in each moment, universally understandable.”

He could not tell if she was speaking or thinking, or if he was just imagining the whole thing. His brain felt cooked and steaming, as if it had been given a brief pass through a microwave. His eyes ached and felt wet.

“Those early settlers gathered and destroyed most of it, according to Marcus. By the time the Administration was founded and migration began in earnest, Central was scrubbed almost completely clean of any trace of that language.”

Alex heard, but did not bother to understand. Her words seemed like fragile and crude things next to the word she had spoken earlier, and it was impossible for him to place any importance on them.

“I don’t know how John learned it, or how much he knows, but Marcus learned from him.”

Emily stood and brushed the sand from her skin.

“There were bits and pieces left over, here and there in Central. The Founder didn’t get everything. I’m not even really sure how old John is, or how long he’s been messing around with this. I don’t know if he wanted Marcus to teach me. Everything is obscure in the Outer Dark, and the Anathema are the polar opposite of organized. I think Marcus and John cooperate, at least, so perhaps he wanted me to learn.”

There was something hiding in the spaces between, he was sure. He could almost see it…

“It won’t last,” Emily said, from somewhere just out of his vision. “I just wanted you to see the way I do, for a little while.”

It was like one of those trick images that people post on Reddit, the sort of thing where you were supposed to stare at a blue cube in the middle of a black diamond until the whole thing turned pink and flipped over. Or one of those hidden image things they sold in stoner-oriented gift shops, posters and advertisements that appeared to be nothing but abstract shapes and colors, but if you looked at them in just the right way, you saw whatever the artist had hidden.

Dolphins or some shit, Alex thought, sitting up. It’s just like that.

Emily looked at him curiously from where she perched atop the trunk of a tree that the river and the ocean had worn perfectly smooth, but he did not care. He was completely absorbed, slowly taking in the ocean, the sky, the beach.

He had never seen them before, not in full and truthful awareness, until she told him the secret.

Now that she had, he saw them everywhere.

“I had no fucking idea,” he said, his feelings of awe creeping into his voice. “There are exits. There are exits fucking everywhere.”

Emily nodded as she watched the ocean.

“And you don’t need to use a protocol?”

“It’s not an apport or anything like that. I don’t need any sort of ability at all,” Emily said. “Once you can see them, it’s like any other open door. You just walk on through.”

“There’s no locks?” He wondered, his throat a little tight. “There’s no sort of…barrier? Nothing to stop you?”

“Never,” Emily confirmed, covering his hand with her own.

“It doesn’t cost anything? You know, like my protocol or whatever. Does it hurt?”

“It doesn’t hurt at all, but it is rather exhausting,” Emily said, shrugging. “I don’t truly understand it myself, but there are holes everywhere, and they connect to everywhere else, and all you need is someone to tell you about it, in the only language that’s equipped to describe it.”

“Holy shit,” Alex said, wiping the blood from the corner of his eyes. “Exits everywhere.”

***

“You’re saying that my protocol is a threat to the entire world because I want it to be that way,” Mitsuru said. “That means everyone was right about me all along, doesn’t it?”

Mitsuru suspected that the beach they walked along was cleaner than what she remembered from Mexico, but if that was the case, then she appreciated the deviation from reality, and not having to worry about stepping on glass or horse shit with her bare feet.

“I think that the woman you used to be hurt so badly that she thought she wanted to die, and we all secretly believe that dying and the end of the world are one and the same,” Rebecca said. “The woman you used to be got what she wanted, eventually, but the world didn’t end, did it? She died and the world moved on.”

“That’s just the way it happened. It could have gone differently.”

“It certainly could have.”

“I mean that it could have gone worse.”

“That’s one way that it could have gone. There are always other possibilities. You are just that, right now. Possibilities.”

“I don’t feel very possible,” Mitsuru said, kicking the sand. “I feel extremely anxious.”

“That’s better than nothing. Anxiety can be managed.”

“About my protocol. You said that I can do something besides destroy with it.”

“Yes.”

“What did you mean? What sort of thing can I do?”

“All of our blood is precious, when you think about it,” Rebecca said, shading her eyes from the sun. “Life is a miracle on so many levels. Even so, your blood is particularly miraculous, Mitzi. The kind of thing a medieval alchemist would have killed for. You can transmute your blood into a perfect acid, a self-replicating corrosive.”

“Yeah,” Mitsuru said sourly. “That’s the problem.”

“Is it, though? Have you considered the possibility that it is your outlook that is the problem? The acid is simply a reflection of what you feel, a physical manifestation of your internal distress and anger. The black blood is the result of how you feel when you operate your protocol, not the extent of it.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Your protocol transmutes your pain into a universal acid,” Rebecca said, smiling at her. “Just imagine what a little happiness and peace might transmute into!”

***

“I have another secret for you,” Emily said, lying in the sand a chaste distance from where he had sprawled. “If you’re ready.”

There seemed to be no point in reckoning time in the simulation. He had been lying there for an indeterminate time, staring at the ferociously burning stars, waiting for the strange feeling in his eyes to pass and not thinking about very much.

It seemed like a million years since he had left Eerie in his dorm at the Far Shores.

His eyes never quite returned to normal, though Alex could not precisely define what had changed. He was haunted by the conviction that both his eyes, the new one and the original issue, had been replaced by new organs with a subtly different purpose. Not sight, but something more unpleasant.

“I don’t know,” he said. “I’m still kinda sore from the last one.”

“It’s nothing like that,” Emily said. “This is just conventional advice.”

“Okay,” Alex said. “I’m game.”

“This is nothing more than my suspicion, but I do have reason to believe it. I’ve never talked about this with anyone else, and I don’t plan to,” Emily said, her voice hushed and apprehensive, even within the simulation. “Gaul Thule is a precognitive. According to testing when he attended the Academy, his protocol is off the charts, the most perceptive they’d ever seen, and that’s when he was sixteen. John Parson – well, I’m not sure what he is, to be honest, but he certainly knows a lot about the future. They know more than any of the cartels, even with precognitive pools working in tandem. Gaul has run Central under one pretext or another for decades, since John created the Anathema, and if the Anathema have a leader, then it’s John. Make sense?”

“Yeah. Go on.”

“Those two men have controlled Central and its enemies for years,” Emily said. “They are also both intimately familiar with the future.”

“With you so far.”

“I’ve dealt with both personally, more than once. They’re both so worried. I think they are afraid of what is coming.”

“So?”

“If they both know the future, then it only follows that they would both be afraid of the same thing,” Emily said urgently. “John never made any secret of it. He was always worried about the Church of Sleep. Doesn’t that have to mean that Gaul Thule is worried about the Church, too?”

“I don’t know,” Alex said, unimpressed. “Maybe?”

“Listen to me carefully,” Emily commanded. “Really think about it. We’re supposed to be fighting each other, right? The Anathema and Central? Mortal enemies, that’s the idea. If the leaders of both sides are afraid of the same thing, then why are we fighting?”

Alex thought it over, Emily’s concern proving contagious.

“Maybe we aren’t really fighting?” Alex suggested. “Maybe this is all to prepare us to fight what’s coming, or something.”

“Gaul knew that Eerie’s plan would awaken the Church, and he didn’t try and stop her. He helped her. John Parson had you and Eerie in the Outer Dark. He could have killed either of you at any time. He could have done anything he wanted. Instead, he helped you, too.”

“What? That’s bullshit! I never even saw the guy. How did he help me?”

“I used to work for John,” Emily said, frowning at him. “He wanted me to help Eerie, so I made sure Vivik joined the Club, and then when that wasn’t enough, I intervened myself. He wanted me to rescue you, and gave me some hints as to how to do it. He even transferred Leigh Feld and put her under my authority, so I’d have the resources I needed.”

“Oh. Oh, shit,” Alex said, as the pieces fell into place. “That’s…”

“Now you see,” Emily said, brushing her hands across the sand and scattering the grains. “What if they’ve been working together the entire time? Despite all that they’ve done, all the death and war, Central is not ready to face the coming of the Church of Sleep. If anything, we’re collectively weaker than we’ve ever been. Do you think of Gaul and John as incompetents? Or does it seem more likely that we’ve never understood their true purpose?”

“You think that they’re cooperating,” Alex said, covering his mouth. “Then the attack in Russia, on Anastasia’s family…”

“The subjugation of the Witches, the extermination of the Western vampires. Even the ghouls and the Weir,” Emily said. “Central and the Anathema have pushed them all to the brink. The Auditors are mostly dead, or brand-new recruits. The Anathema lost most of their strength in a failed invasion of Central. The Hegemony is at war with itself, and the Black Sun is in disarray. The Ether has gone insane, and long-range apports and telepathy are nearly impossible.”

“We’re screwed, aren’t we?” Alex shook his head. “You’re right. Everything is fucking wrecked. They took it all apart piece by piece.”

“Yes.”

“But, why? Do they want the Church to win, and take Eerie? They both want us to lose?”

“I think so,” Emily said. “What do you think?”

“Now that you’ve said it,” Alex said slowly, “I can’t really see it any other way. If they both know the future, and they were both worried about the same thing, then…”

“…how could they screw everything up so badly?” Emily finished the sentence for him. “How could they allow all of this to happen, with the Church manifesting at our weakest possible moment?”

“Yeah,” Alex said, standing slowly from the sand. “Doesn’t make any sense.”

“Yeah.”

“And now there’s no one who can do anything about it. We’re completely fucked, aren’t we?”

“Well, maybe not entirely,” Emily said, with a hint of a smile. “I don’t think they really factored everything into their plans. Precognition works better on some people, you see, and worse on others. Myself, for example. That’s another trick that Marcus taught me.”

Alex looked at her in evident confusion.

“That’s my talent, when you think about it,” Emily said. “I’m very easy to overlook. I don’t think either of them expected me to be a player in the endgame, and yet here I am. I have the Far Shores, and my friends in the Rescue Alex from the Outer Dark Club…”

“Change the name,” Alex said. “I’m begging you.”

“It’s not up to me. Talk to your girlfriend,” Emily chided. “I’ve earned a few favors from some powerful people, and I’ve learned some useful tricks. It’s better than nothing.”

Alex came to stand beside her, and they both looked out at the ocean. Dawn was just deciding to put in an appearance behind them, light bleeding in over the foothills.

“They underestimated us,” Emily said. “That’s their mistake. They’ll never see us coming, Alex, and they won’t be able to stop us. That is, if there is an ‘us’ at all. Is there? I said I wouldn’t make you do anything.”

“Yeah,” Alex said. “I’m with you.”

“I know,” Emily said, grinning. “It’s nice to hear you say it, though.”

They watched the waves, the sand turning from purple to pink around their bare feet.

“We are still going to save Eerie from whatever is coming, right?” Alex asked, his voice full of trepidation. “That’s still on the agenda?”

“Yes, of course!” Emily said, taking his hand. “That’s not all we’re going to do, though, dear. I’m much more ambitious. We’re going to save everyone.”

He nodded and squeezed her hand.

“Everyone who deserves saving, that is,” Emily added. “Some people really deserve what they get, don’t you think?”

***

The ocean battered the rocks, while the seabirds circled far overhead. The sand was grey and coarse, and there were small fishing boats pulled up on to the beach, but no footprints aside from the ones they left.

The sun was exactly as high in the sky as it had been when they started walking, though the resort was a distant speck at the end of the beach, and the cool of morning still lingered, sea mist diffusing the sunlight and clinging to the cultivated hillsides.

“Just think about it,” Rebecca suggested. “You can transform the stuff of life itself into its opposite. What else might be possible?”

“I don’t know,” Mitzi said, watching the birds patrol the sky above the shallows. “I don’t think that happiness is a possibility, for me.”

“The woman you used to be was capable of happiness, despite everything. Why not you?”

“Because I’m dead, or I feel that I should be.”

“You know that’s not true. You were never dead. You are at the beginning of your life, Mitzi, not the end of it.”

Mitsuru looked down at her hands, her palms up to the sun.

“I don’t think that this is a beginning. I feel diminished, like the sun has moved further away. Everything feels dim and dull.”

“Do you think that might be something you are doing to protect yourself?” Rebecca suggested. “It feels as if you’ve armored yourself against the world.”

“Maybe,” Mitsuru said. “What do you think I should do?”

“I think what I always have,” Rebecca said, putting her arm around Mitsuru’s shoulders. “You should do whatever would make you happy.”

“I don’t know what that would be. I truly have no idea.”

“Have you been happy with what you’ve done in the past?”

“No,” Mitsuru declared. “I have not.”

“Is that really true? Or is that just how it feels when you look at the big picture?” Rebecca gently urged them back into a walk, turning them back toward the resort. “You weren’t always unhappy, you know.”

“Wasn’t I?”

“We had fun, sometimes, when you would allow it. You must remember that. We had fun here, for God’s sake.”

“I…yes. Yes, I suppose that…”

“You loved Alistair,” Rebecca said gently. “That ended badly, and it went bad long before that, but it wasn’t all terrible. You were very happy, at least at first.”

“I don’t think I want to remember it that way.”

“You liked working with the kids, too. With Alex and Katya and the rest.”

“What are you talking about?” Mitsuru gave her a bewildered look. “I hated that! Running the Program was awful, and I’m just not cut out to work with kids. They drove me nuts! Katya especially.”

“The two of you just had too much in common,” Rebecca chided her, laughing. “You saw too much of what you don’t like about yourself in her. You enjoyed your time with them. You liked teaching.”

“I taught them how to kill,” Mitsuru said dully. “That’s the only thing I know.”

“You taught them how to survive. That’s what you know, Mitzi.”

“What do I know about it? I died.”

“That’s just it, isn’t it? You didn’t die at all. You’ve even survived that.”

They walked for a long time without saying anything. It was hard to be sure how much time passed, the way the sun held its position. The resort seemed distant, but when Mitsuru turned to look, the rocks at the end of the beach seemed equally far.

“Emily Muir didn’t bring me back as an act of charity,” Mitsuru said. “She wants me to work for her, and we both know what kind of work she has in mind.”

“I don’t really know much about that sort of thing. The simulation has its limitations, you know.”

“I wish you wouldn’t remind me about that. I like it better, pretending that you’re really here.”

“I know, but it’s not good for you,” Rebecca said. “You can’t reconcile your feelings with this version of me. It’s important for both of you to do it for real.”

“I know. I still prefer to pretend. Do you think I should help Emily with whatever she has in mind?”

“Do you want to?”

“I don’t know. Do you think the Auditors will want me, when they find out that I’m back?”

“That’s another thing that I don’t know much about. I’m sorry.”

“I think they will,” Mitsuru said. “Either that, or they’ll want me dead. Again.”

“That could be,” Rebecca said. “Do you still want to be an Auditor?”

“I’m not sure. I always wanted to be one, you know. More than anything, or almost anything.”

“I know.”

“Now, I’m not sure. Maybe I’m not meant for it.”

“Maybe it wasn’t meant for you.”

“If I decide to work for Emily, that’s over with,” Mitsuru said. “There’s no going back. Whatever she has going on, she’s not working for Central, and I won’t be forgiven for joining her. That’s treason, or at least that’s how the Administration will see it.”

“The woman you used to be worked for Central,” Rebecca reminded her. “Do you want to help Emily, or are you just looking for something to take your mind off of your problems?”

“I don’t know,” Mitsuru admitted. “I want to do something. I’m just not sure what it is.”

“I think you have many options, but they fall into two broad categories. You can go back to the things that made you happy in your past life – being an Auditor, teaching, our friendship, falling in love. Or you can take a chance and try something new.”

“You think I should work for Emily?”

“Surely not! I’m simply suggesting that if you don’t know what might make you happy, you at least seem to have a grasp on what makes you unhappy. It might be better, then, to avoid those sorts of things when planning for your new life. You don’t have to make better decisions, Mitzi, not if you don’t want to. But I really think you should make different ones. Don’t you think you’ve spent enough time being miserable?”

“Yes. An entire lifetime, really.”

***

“What do we do from here?”

“An easy question, finally,” Emily said, with a grin. “I think we’ve both suffered quite enough, don’t you?” She took his arm. “I think that it is finally time for us to get what we want.”

“I’m okay with that,” Alex said. “What is it that we want?”

“I don’t know what you want, because you haven’t made up your mind yet. As for me, I just want to be free of the burden of all this fighting and scheming and plotting. I want to live according to my own wishes, and I want to protect the people that I care about.”

“I get it.”

“Yes. It’s not so much to ask, is it?” Emily twirled a lock of her hair around her finger. “Oh, yes. I suppose I’d also like to keep the Far Shores, if it’s all the same to everyone.”

“I don’t think it is. I think a bunch of people are going to have an issue with that.”

“Well, I still plan to keep it. They’ll just have to make do without.”

“What will you do with it?”

“You should know the answer to that by now,” Emily said. “Whatever I like!”

***

He was in the pool, pulling smoothly through the chlorinated water with a half-assed breaststroke, enjoying the way the ripples he created on the surface of the water distorted the reflection of the engorged moon, when the door on the opposite side of the villa opened, yellow light spilling out from behind the figure of a woman.

He almost called out, thinking it was Emily, but the figure was shorter, and broader in the shoulders.

Mitsuru walked to the edge of the pool, her red eyes drained of any emotion except a sense of exhaustion that bordered on scorn. She was wearing loose, shapeless clothes, and moved so quietly that Alex felt a bit haunted, as if her memory were standing at the edge of the pool.

Mitsuru Aoki, the woman who saved him from what had seemed a certain and horrible death, had been killed in the field, felled by a sniper. She had been his teacher, a fellow Auditor, and something more than that, at least in his head. Alex held Mitsuru in special regard, he supposed, and he also supposed that was natural, given the circumstances.

She was dead, except now she was back. That wasn’t quite right, though. Not back. A backup. A fresh copy of Ms. Aoki, one who never had a hole put through her somber head. She was no ghost. This was really her, in the flesh, frowning at Alex as if he weren’t supposed to be in the pool at this hour.

That wasn’t right either, Alex thought, paddling to the side of the pool.

This was not a real pool, or a real villa, or even the real Ms. Aoki that stood in front of him. All of this was taking place in an implant inside of her mind.

Still.

It was disquieting, even with all that.

“I haven’t seen you in a while,” Alex said cautiously, wiping the water from his face. “Are you feeling any better? Do you wanna swim? The water’s always the perfect temperature.”

“I’m not sure how I feel,” Mitsuru said, as if she truly wasn’t sure. “Why are you here, Alex?”

“I was swimming,” Alex said nervously. “Is that not okay?”

“How long have we been here?”

“What? Oh. This time, or both times?”

“You’ve been here more than once?” Mitsuru knelt beside the pool, looking him directly in the eyes. “What does that mean?”

“Emily kinda threw me out. Never mind. It isn’t important. We’ve been here for what seems like a couple days, right? Maybe a week? It was still the middle of the night, back in the real world, the last I checked.”

“Emily must be manipulating the flow of time within the simulation,” Mitsuru said, in a tone that made Alex apprehensive. “She’s become alarmingly capable.”

“What do you mean?” Alex asked, climbing from the pool. “How long did it seem to you?”

“I’ve been doing intensive therapy and rehab with a simulation of Rebecca – Ms. Levy – for approximately a year and a half,” Mitsuru said, her voice almost as robotic as telepathic communication. “I’d stay longer, but I’ve exhausted the resources of the simulation.”

“I really wasted my chance when my implant activated,” Alex said, looking among the vacant patio chairs for his towel. “All I did was some yoga and ran on the beach and shit.”

“Your emergency implant activated?”

“I got captured by the Anathema,” Alex said, drying himself off. “The implant was trying to protect me from interrogation, or at least prepare me for it, I guess.”

“I see,” Mitsuru said. “What happened?”

“I got tortured anyway,” Alex snapped. “What the fuck do you think?”

“I don’t know,” Mitsuru answered indifferently. “What have you been doing in my simulation, aside from swimming?”

“Talking with Emily, mostly,” Alex said, half-fibbing. “The food’s great here, you know. And the beach…”

“I remember,” Mitsuru said. “That’s why Becca picked it.”

“Yeah. Well, good choice.”

“I had thought you and Miss Muir were no longer involved.”

“Me too,” Alex said, wrapping the towel around his waist. “Let me warn you, Ms. Aoki. I don’t know what Emily wants with you, but she doesn’t give up easy. She’s super persistent.”

“I know what she wants,” Mitsuru said, looking somewhere into the dark. “All I know how to do is to kill and destroy.”

Alex started to laugh, and then immediately thought better of it when he caught Mitsuru’s glare.

“Sorry, just a little melodramatic,” Alex said. “And not at all true.”

“No?” Mitsuru straightened up. “What do you know?”

“I know you saved me,” Alex said, grinning at her. “I’ll never forget that.”

Mitsuru turned away, so he could not make out her expression.

“Emily’s also way too smart to go to all this trouble, if all she needs is a killer,” Alex added, pulling on his shirt. “Murderers are a dime a dozen, Ms. Aoki, and I figure Emily’s already got a few around if she needs one. She must think you’re special, or it wouldn’t be worth it to her to bring you back.”

Emily giggled as she approached the pool, wrapped in a towel, her eyes hidden behind oversized white sunglasses.

“I was going to say the very same thing, albeit with greater eloquence,” Emily said, kissing Alex lightly on the cheek. “Thank you for the compliments, dear. I’m glad we have worked out our issues. I really didn’t like not getting along!”

“Me either,” Alex said, stepping carefully away from her.

“I need you to go back right away,” Emily said, giggling as he struggled to get his sweats on. “I have some things I need to discuss with Ms. Aoki, and I need you to buy us enough time to have that conversation.”

“Won’t it just take a second, in the real world?”

“We are out of time, so I need you to buy us just a few minutes,” Emily said. “You’ll need to be ready for trouble.”

“I don’t mind that,” Alex said, rubbing his numb eye. “I don’t think I mind at all. What am I going to be dealing with?”

“Don’t worry, you’ll be fine. I’ve taken care of everything. Please just trust me,” Emily said. “I set up psychic early warning systems, and they are all sounding. We are under attack, Alex, and I need you to look after our bodies while I finish here.”

Alex snorted.

“Oh, please be mature for just one minute,” Emily said, cracking a smile despite herself. “Can I send you now?”

“Sure,” Alex said. “Good luck, Ms. Aoki.”

“Would you trust her, Alex?” Mitsuru asked. “If you were me?”

“I don’t know,” Alex admitted. “But I trust her, if that answers your question.”

“With your life?”

“Is there any other kind of trust?”

Alex disappeared, the only reminder of his presence a puddle of pool water beside a wet towel.

“Well, then, Ms. Aoki, that should buy us a minute or two before I’m needed,” Emily said, smiling at her. “You’ve returned at an opportune time, Ms. Aoki. We are at the cusp of great things, and I really hope that you’ll be interested in what I have to offer.”

“Do you really trust Alex to protect us?” Mitsuru asked. “He has good intentions, but if it’s who you think it is…”

“Reading my thoughts already? You are in fine form, I see,” Emily said, looking surprised and impressed. “To be frank, I don’t expect Alex to do more than what I asked him to do. He’ll buy us some time. I’ve something else planned for you-know-who.”

“Alex warned me,” Mitsuru said. “He told me that you’d want something.”

“He didn’t warn you about anything,” Emily said, laughing it off. “He was too busy telling you how great I am! Now, shall we walk along the beach? There’s a conversation that I’m just dying to have with you, Ms. Aoki, and the sunrise will be lovely today, I’m certain of it.”

Fourteen

Day Three

He made circuits of the house to pass the time. It was dawn, and the heat had already started to set in. He was on his third go-round when he noticed something weird in the kitchen. Alex was shocked to see a man sitting at the birch kitchen table with a half-full glass of water sitting in front of him. He watched Alex closely, his eyes hamster-pink behind prescription lenses in heavy black frames.

“How very strange,” he said, frowning. “I was expecting Miss Muir. I knew she would have a surprise for me, but I never thought – well, no matter. Hello, Mr. Warner,” Gaul Thule said. “A great deal has happened since we last spoke. I’m glad to see that you are well.”

“No thanks to you,” Alex stammered. His hand went automatically to the holster at his waist but found it empty. “What the fuck are you up to now?”

“An excellent question, and exactly what I was hoping to discuss with you.” Gaul took a sip from the glass of water. “We should have a few uninterrupted moments before the next round of complications begins. Shall we have a conversation?”

“I heard that you killed Ana’s dad.”

“We don’t have time for…”

“Some other people, too, though I doubt that matters much to a guy like you. Little people, I guess. Servants, that sort of thing. Bodyguards, for example. You know anything about that?”

“I know what this is about. You are angry about…”

“Timor Zharova!” Alex slammed his palms down on the bare table. “You killed him, Gaul.”

“I hadn’t realized we were on a first name basis, Mr. Warner.”

“I don’t care about your name, and I don’t give a shit about any title,” Alex snarled. “Timor was a good guy, you know? He was nice to me.”

“Timor Zharova was an unavoidable casualty of a gamble, an attempt to avoid a much greater calamity. That is the burden of precognition. What appears as senseless death to you is truly the most preferable of many bad options, however tragic it may be.”

“Timor was Katya’s brother,” Alex said, rising from his chair. “You know that?”

“Yes, of course,” Gaul said irritably, adjusting his glasses. “I was the Director of the Academy. I also know that Miss Zharova is important to you.”

“I didn’t even know Katya could be hurt that badly. She’s, well, I guess she’s my cousin, or something, but really, she’s…like, my best friend,” Alex stammered, gripping the table, his fingernails sinking into the varnish. “There’s only one thing I want you to tell me, mister former director.”

“This display is a waste of valuable time.” One side of Gaul’s mouth dipped into a frown. “We have important things to discuss, Mr. Warner. I have information that you will need, for you to survive, and to ensure the best possible outcome for all.”

“I’m gonna let you in on a little secret,” Alex said. “I don’t care about ‘all’. I don’t give a shit about the entire fucking human race. I care about my friend, who you hurt. Why shouldn’t I just kill you, right now?”

“You can’t.” Gaul took off glasses and rubbed his eyes. “I appreciate how your talents have developed and evolved in recent weeks, but you are nowhere near my level.”

“I’m not so sure,” Alex said, his breath suddenly visible. “Want to test that theory?”

“I have no interest in pointless conflict. I am here to equip you with information that will save your life and the lives of those you care for. Whatever you think of me personally, my protocol is indisputable. Don’t you want to know what is coming for Eerie? Don’t you want to know how to deal with it?”

“I don’t need you to tell me anything! If I can’t trust a word you say, then what good is your precognition? You fucked up and made yourself useless to anyone.”

Gaul adjusted his glasses.

“The Auditors are dead or scattered. The Anathema have largely been purged. The Black Sun is shattered and the Hegemony at war with itself,” Gaul said. “The Thule Cartel is in position. The circumstances are very nearly perfect. We will have one chance to turn the Church back from Central. Your participation will be required.”

“We aren’t at the Academy, and you aren’t the damn Director!” Alex’s eyes were wide, his nostrils flared. “Why would you think that you could tell me to do anything?”

“Reason is my first hope,” Gaul said. “I hope to persuade you to see it my way.”

“Why would I go along with anything you say? All you’ve done is get people killed.”

“Would you feel better if I assured that I have allowed only the minimum amount of death possible?”

“Not even slightly. What the fuck, man? Everyone in Central trusted you.”

“I have honored my responsibilities to Central. The Fifth Assembly was always inevitable. Eerie’s foolishness was the simplest way to make them come early, still drowsy from their long hibernation, when it was just possible to imagine defeating them. The Church is not something that can be stopped, but it could be misdirected. Central could be hidden – no, it will be hidden – and the Assembly will turn its attention to richer pastures.”

“What? You mean the world, right?”

“The whole world,” Gaul agreed. “That should be just enough to satisfy the Church, to convince the Assembly to break up, and the Church to return to hibernation.”

“Great plan,” Alex sneered. “Too bad everyone dies.”

“Not everyone. We survive, Mr. Warner. That should count for something.”

“I’d aim a little higher, personally.”

“That’s just the problem. Rebecca and Alice would do the same. Even Henry North and Josef Martynova would not have stood by. They would have opposed the Church, and in doing so, they would have been destroyed, and drawn the Assembly down on Central in the process.”

“And your plan is better? There’s billions of people, man…”

“Seven and a half billion, and their dreams are still not enough for the Church to subsist on, without hibernating. The Church is unstoppable, but whatever intelligence it possesses is insectoid. It sees only immediate desire and opportunity. The Church will leave behind a few million in place of those billions, and then, sated, will sink back into hibernation. Where it will slowly starve, deprived of the dreaming billions that sustained it during its long sleep.”

“That’s your plan?” Alex shuddered. “Everybody dies, and then this big bad thing dies too, eventually?”

“No. I keep telling you that everyone does not die. We live, Alex. My family, your friends, all of them. That’s all we can hope to protect.”

“Fuck off with this shit! No way, okay? No fucking way.”

“You don’t understand.”

“I don’t need to understand to know that’s a terrible plan! Look, I can think of a million better ways to deal with this, and I’m not the smartest. I’ll just go find Anastasia and ask her; I’m sure she can come up with something better than ‘hide and let everybody die’. Fuck, man! You’re supposed to be a genius, you know? People make you out to be such a big deal. This is the best you can do?”

“This is the very best. Can you imagine how terrible the futures that I’m trying to avoid must be for me to pursue this course?”

“That, or you’re wrong,” Alex said. “You don’t see the future, right? Just possibilities.”

“That is partly true. I see every possibility.”

“That’s what you think. Anything is fucking possible. Maybe one of us can deal with this church or whatever no problem. Maybe you’re wrong.”

“Fighting the Church would be like fighting gravity or the sun. We are like mice before the Church. The only thing for us to do is to hide until it passes us by. Then the world will be left for us to inherit, and no further need for conflict in Central over resources.”

“Because everyone would be dead.”

“Not those of us in Central,” Gaul corrected. “And what of the dead? The world is terminally overcrowded and polluted. What difference does it make if the Church makes the inevitable happen a touch ahead of schedule?”

“A lot, for the people who die. You can stop trying to convince me, okay? Even I’m not going for it.”

“I had hoped that reason would prevail,” Gaul said, pushing aside his glass of water. “I suppose that power will have to suffice.”

“Don’t give me that,” Alex said, rising to his feet. “I’m more than happy to…”

Mr. Warner, sit down and be quiet, Gaul commanded. Alex’s body obeyed so quickly that he experienced a twinge of motion sickness. “Let’s not make this more difficult than it needs to be. I understand that you resent some of what I’ve done, and that you are angry with me for the harm you feel I have done to your cousin.”

Gaul hesitated, an odd look on his face. He turned slightly in his chair, glancing down the darkened hall to where Emily and Mitsuru lay, apparently asleep.

Alex watched him closely.

As soon as Gaul’s head turned, Alex pushed the table aside and went for Gaul’s throat, activating his protocol to open a pinpoint breach to the Ether in the core of the former Director’s brain.

A wall of pure force smashed into Alex mid-step, slamming him aside. He was knocked across the room, cracking the drywall when he collided with it.

Alex groaned as the air was driven from his lungs, unrelenting pressure pinning him against the wall when he should have tumbled to the floor.

He tried to struggle, to move a hand or even a finger, but he was pinned firmly to the wall by an invisible force.

Alex tried to activate his protocol, and nothing happened.

Gaul watched him with a frown.

“You have advanced considerably in the exercise of the Absolute Protocol,” Gaul remarked, standing and tucking his chair beneath the table. “It’s a bit of a struggle to keep your ability suppressed. I’m pleased with your improvement, and alarmed. You see, Mr. Warner, I can’t escape the prescient awareness of the calamity you represent. It would be much safer to kill you now. That’s the question, isn’t it? Does your potential usefulness outweigh the danger you represent?”

The pressure against Alex’s chest swelled, and the last of his breath escaped with a groan, his vision darkening as he lost consciousness. He felt as if he were beneath the sea, crushed by the weight of deep black water.

“So much trouble could be avoided,” Gaul said. “A pity that is not an option.”

The telekinetic force crushing him into the wall disappeared, and Alex tumbled to the floor, wheezing gratefully.

“You are still trying to activate your protocol, even now,” Gaul said, rubbing his chin. “There may be hope for you yet.”

Alex gathered himself and attempted to stand.

His body remained slumped and unresponsive.

“I will return control of your body to you when you have accepted the situation,” Gaul said, standing over Alex with his hands clasped behind his back. “You have progressed, but do not make the mistake of assuming we are at parity. I have no rivals, Alex, and I have no peers. And despite that, I am terrified of the Church of Sleep, and what their coming represents. Do you understand? I don’t want to do this – I am forced to do it.”

Gaul gestured, and Alex rose like a marionette. At a nod, he returned to his seat at the table.

“This could all be so much easier,” Gaul said, standing just behind Alex. “We don’t need to be enemies. Cease your attempts to activate your protocol, and I will release you, and then we can talk. Agreed?”

Alex could make no verbal response, so instead he thought very hard about punching Gaul in the face.

“Very well,” Gaul said, putting his hands on the back of Alex’s head. “This may be quite difficult, and as long as I am forced to suppress your abilities, I’m afraid I lack the bandwidth to make certain that you do not suffer in the process. Are you certain you won’t cooperate?”

Alex thought about punching Gaul in the liver, kicking him in the groin, freezing his head solid and then shattering it with a hammer.

“Very well,” Gaul said, closing his pink eyes. “Have it your way.”

The pain burned away Alex’s sense of self the way staring at the sun destroys eyesight, leaving great glaring holes in his mind. He was not allowed to scream, to writhe, to cry out or curl up. Instead, Alex sat calmly in the chair, with a relaxed posture and regular respiration, while his brain was scoured.

Alex blinked, and there was nothing behind his eyelids but fire, a mind-destroying holocaust.

Alex opened his eyes to the void, a clean white expanse of unvaried absence.

***

“I’m glad you agreed to talk with me,” Emily said, squeezing a lime into her margarita. “I don’t think that we will get another chance.”

“You seem to know a lot about what’s going to happen,” Mitsuru observed. “Why is that?”

“I don’t know what’s going to happen. I haven’t a clue. I do have some idea what is happening at present, however, and I extrapolate from that. As for why, I’ll just say that I have made some excellent choices regarding friends and club memberships.”

“The Young Ladies Sewing Circle. Long overdue for an Audit, if you ask me, but Alistair and Alice both wouldn’t even consider it. I always wondered about that. What do you want from me?”

“I want you to work for me.” Emily stirred her drink. “You know that already.”

“Why?”

“Who wouldn’t? You’re a trained Operator with an implant designed by Gaul Thule and a Black Protocol, a former Auditor…”

“I’m a former Auditor, now?”

“How else do you interpret being shot in the head?” Emily giggled. “I think they’ve moved on, regardless of how you feel. You have my sympathies. The world seems to work that way far too often.”

“What sort of work do you have in mind?”

“I’d like you to help me make the Far Shores into a refuge for people like us, Ms. Aoki. People who have been discarded and betrayed, those cast aside by Central and those victimized by it. I want you to help me defend it, in the short term, and in the long term I’d like you to teach it to defend itself. I’d also like to help you cheer up a bit.”

“Why would you care about that?”

“I’m an empath, Ms. Aoki. Not the most sensitive one in the world, but still, your constant angst makes you dreary company.”

“That’s an easy problem to fix. It also makes me wonder why you want me around.”

“I’m trying to save the world, and my friends.” Emily paused to take a sip of her drink through a purple straw. “I’m willing to put up with a bad attitude or two for that.”

“Do you mean the Church of Sleep? You explained, but I’m not sure how much I believed.”

“That’s fine. This particular church requires no belief at all.”

“What else are you trying to accomplish? Do you intend to oppose or harm the Auditors?”

“Not at all! Some of my best friends are Auditors.”

“What about Central?” Mitsuru’s red eyes were fixed on Emily’s face. “What do you intend there?”

“Saving it from certain doom and seeing a power structure put in place that guarantees my own independence. I am done with cartel games and politics. I will not be anyone’s minion or pawn.”

“That’s a bold stance,” Mitsuru said. “How can you possibly hope to accomplish that?”

“I’ve already taken the Far Shores. I turned Alistair’s vampire, Ms. Gallow’s most promising young Auditor, and Anastasia Martynova’s assassin to my cause. I’ve escaped the Outer Dark and stood against the Auditors all by myself. I arranged the death of a World Tree and defied Gaul Thule and John Parson both. The Changeling that everyone is desperate to control? She came to me of her own free will. I’ve honest-to-God raised the dead,” Emily said, offended. “What makes you think I cannot do a little thing like deciding the course of a war?”

***

Her consciousness obliterated, Katya’s diminished mind ran automatically through the lessons implanted during her training as an assassin, while she waited for her target to arrive.

Much of the training she had received from the Black Sun trainers was mental and physical conditioning, the kind of thing that was commonly taught at the Academy.

The difference between the training she had received as an assassin and that offered at the Academy boiled down to points of emphasis.

That, Katya supposed, and also the practice of allowing, or even encouraging relations between faculty and students at assassin school. There was no way that the Academy would have allowed that sort of thing to go on. Seduction was a necessary tool for an assassin, and the staff seemed to take delight in delivering direct instruction to students on its finer points.

She felt a little let down with the Academy in that regard.

Mr. Windsor seemed like just the right kind of nice guy.

The Black Sun had been training assassins for generations, based on teachings inherited from the Triad that constituted one-half of its ancestry. It had begun as a service for hire in the era of the Warring States, gradually honed into an organized program of extortion and influence against the British in Hong Kong and Shanghai. This continued with the French in Vietnam, the Japanese in Manchuria, and eventually became an essential element of the struggle in Central against the Hegemony. Centuries of covert action informed practices carefully passed down to each new generation of assassins.

These were not protocols, but rather techniques that could be taught and learned. Tricks of the trade for the very worst kind of magician.

The kind that specialized in making people disappear.

The most useful of the lessons concerned emptiness.

It was delivered to Katya in a remote camp in Mauritania by a French woman who wore her hair in a tight bun, who never once wore shoes in the two years that she studied beneath her. She taught a cultivated absence, deployed at will by the practitioner to submerge personality and conscious thought.

An assassin could be as fast and fit as they liked, but when it came to targets with telepathic and precognitive protocols, traditional methods were useless.

The mundane responsibility of the assassin was to work without detection, but in Central, it was essential that even the assassin did not know what they were up to. Unconscious operations, in which a sleeper assassin was placed near the target, unaware of their true identity until awakened by an outside signal, were the most common, but there were other methods.

The lesser assassins were forced to allow Black Sun telepaths to wipe their minds virtually clean, implanting cover identities as deemed operationally necessary. They were like overgrown children outside of work, naïve and detached, with little in the way of a persona aside from a disproportionate appetite for food and pleasure.

Katya had the good fortune to possess talent and a powerful patron, and therefore her personality was left largely intact. She suffered through a series of surgeries, physical and psychic, that diminished her sense of identity and rounded out the rough edges of her personality. Her emotions were constrained, her eyes were replaced, and a sense of professional detachment was grafted in place of the passions and fears she had once had.

Substance abuse and impulsive behavior often filled the void left behind by the procedures, but that was deemed to be an acceptable consequence. Most assassins died long before that sort of behavior became a problem, and they were all replaceable.

The Black Sun was renowned for its prowess in battle, but open warfare was eschewed in all but the most desperate circumstances. The cartel favored diplomacy above all other solutions and considered the subtle art of threatened and actual assassination to be part of its diplomatic arsenal.

“Better one dies than one thousand,” her wizened instructor had told Katya, on her first day of training, speaking with a pronounced Indonesian accent. She had nodded, sweat already soaking through her clothes in the muggy Donbass summer, but she had not truly agreed.

One was just the same as one thousand as one million.

Casualties never made much difference to Katya.

She became unfamiliar, a stranger to herself.

Her affinities, her anxieties, and her sexuality were sculpted and reshaped on demand, a continual process of adaptation dictated by operational requirements. She spent six months as a Disney-obsessed raver in the San Fernando Valley, attending community college and eating pizza with the LGBT club. She would eventually kill three of its members. Katya stayed for several weeks on a little island on the Atlantic coast of Spain, speaking Dutch-accented English and working tables in a rundown nightclub, wearily ignoring the British tourists who groped and catcalled, only to be recalled without ever contacting her target. She sunned herself on the deck of a private yacht moored off the Azores for weeks, working as a scuba instructor for a rich man and his spoiled children, her body operating underwater as confidentially as any machine on implanted telepathic knowledge, before she sabotaged a tank and drowned the yacht’s owner among the reefs and the seaweed. She spent eight weeks working as a grip on a Hollywood production in Prague, following a consultant who someone else would kill before she had the chance. She studied Cultural Anthropology at Wisconsin for a semester, incidentally sleeping with a professor she would later discover to be her target.

She shed personas like a snake molting, leaving them behind to rot in the sun.

Katya quickly accepted that she was no one in particular.

She learned to do without thinking, to perform assassinations by rote and muscle memory. She learned to fill her mind with appropriate and banal chatter, exactly the sort of thing a suspicious telepath might expect to find in the mind of a vacuous young woman. She learned to look, but not see, to hear and respond without listening.

All sorts of invisibility were made available to her, along with a thousand tricks to the art of murder, both intimate and impersonal. Her instructor in poisons and pharmaceuticals, a charming Belarusian with a gleaming bald head, called it ‘black medicine’.

Katya proved an apt pupil.

The most closely guarded secrets were those regarding clairvoyants. It was difficult enough to contend with targets who read minds. A target who saw the future was practically impossible to surprise. Charm, deceit, and seduction, the most used tools of the assassin, were all worthless.

A precognitive did not perceive the future, they perceived probabilities. Precogs identified people and situations by their consequences.

The trick came down to becoming no one of consequence.

Some she could do on her own, with the appropriate drugs and meditation. It was much easier and more reliable to have a telepath and empath handy.

Submitting to a telepathic implant from Emily was a devil’s bargain, but Katya felt weirdly comfortable making it. She felt as if she were dead already, like she had realized she was dreaming without waking up.

The process had been fast. Less than an hour after they got to work in the living room of Emily’s townhouse, she was in a trance. She did not remember Emily leading her by the hand, Katya stumbling like a sleepwalker, through the Ether, to emerge in an unfamiliar desert landscape, not far from a freeway.

She was led to a small room and shut inside of it.

Katya did not object when the door was shut behind her.

She sat in a suffocating hot closet, barren save for a large bottle of mineral water and a pristine shelving unit, and knew and felt nothing save occasional thirst.

Training and the surgeries had prepared her. She felt no alarm, no curiosity about where she was, or for what purpose. Katya sat cross-legged on the carpet and waited for something to happen.

She moved only when she needed water. She drank sparingly, not even enough to replace the fluids that leaked out of her pores to drip on the carpet around her. The closet smelled like dust and new paint and was illuminated only by the light shining through the crack beneath the door.

Katya waited.

There were voices, hushed and worried. A man and a woman. Then, briefly, another woman.

Their conversations were brief.

Not long after, Katya heard a struggle. She took another drink from her nearly empty bottle and resumed her vigil.

The fight, if that was what it was, did not last. Another conversation followed, and then she heard furniture being moved across the floor. Something was haphazardly dragged down the stairs.

The floor settled. The house quieted. Evening came, but the stifling heat did not diminish.

She finished her water, and an hour or so later was obliged to relieve herself in the opposite corner of the closet. She felt discomfort from her aching legs and back, and a headache from dehydration, but she felt no corresponding distress, no desire to rectify any of it. Katya leaned her head against the closet door and waited, sweat smeared across the wood.

Another several hours. The air inside the closet was hot and foul.

She heard footsteps, and then the sound of a chair scraping along the floor.

There was nothing for several minutes, and then a brief statement from the new arrival, followed by a shout. Both voices were male.

Katya listened, but did not hear.

“…certain you won’t cooperate?”

The final word roused her from her detachment like an alarm waking a sleeper from deep slumber. Katya found herself paying attention to the conversation. There was something…

“Very well,” the speaker said. “Have it your way.”

Katya’s eyes widened.

No thought was required. It barely even took an effort.

She opened the closet door slowly, peering out from behind the door.

A boy sat at the dining room table with an expression of profound distress, but he did not matter. The man behind him with his fingers in the boy’s hair, he was the only one who meant anything.

Katya measured the distance between herself and the man at a glance.

Inhale slow, long exhale. And in the space between breaths…

Katya reached into the man’s head, using a protocol she was surprised to discover that she possessed, and transported a tiny portion of tissue from his head into the palm of her hand. It was pink and white and grey, like raw hamburger left out a little too long, and it wobbled like Jell-O when she moved.

There was a loud noise from the dining room, as if something had fallen to the floor.

All at once, Katya Zharova was herself once more.

She tried to stand and toppled over on the carpet. She made it back up to her knees just in time for the nausea to kick in. She managed to confine her vomiting to the closet she had spent the better part of a day in.

After the last of the heaves passed, she wiped her mouth and brushed her hair out of her face. She realized that she was still holding the gelatinous tissue extracted from Gaul Thule’s head, and was nearly sick again when she snuck a glance at it.

She tossed it in the closet and shut the door firmly, resolving to make sure that no one looked in there.

She went to make sure that her target was dead, moving slowly and a bit unsteadily.

Katya felt as if she had a headache, but that wasn’t quite right. It did not hurt. She felt washed out and soft, like paper immersed in water, slowly returning to pulp, but there was hardly time to worry about it.

The only sounds in the dining room were those of Gaul Thule quietly dying. Katya was mildly surprised to see that Alex was collapsed not far away, his forehead resting on the table.

Emotion overrode training.

She went to check on Alex, first holding moist fingers in front of his mouth to be certain that he was breathing. He seemed fine aside from a nosebleed, his pulse steady and strong, his eyes wide open but unseeing.

“Are you okay?” Katya lifted his chin so she could look into his eyes. “Come on. Please. Are you still with us?”

His eyes were bright and empty.

“Can you hear me? Are you still in there?”

Katya eased him back into the chair, and then turned her attention to Gaul Thule.

He was sprawled across the floor, bleeding from the nose and the corners of his eyes. His breathing was loud and irregular, and his skin was deathly pale, but his gaze tracked Katya as she approached, and when she knelt beside him, she could see his mouth move. She obliged him, bending over and putting her ear to his lips.

“…didn’t…see you…coming…how?”

“I’m not a secret relative or anything,” Katya said. “It’s a question of technique. I’m an assassin. You aren’t supposed to see us coming.”

The dying man might have smiled.

It could have been pain or needle-induced neurological damage, but Katya preferred to think that he smiled.

His lips moved again. Katya bent to listen.

“…the Church…you’ve ruined everything. You don’t…”

“I don’t understand? That’s probably true,” Katya said. “That’s not a requirement in my line of work, Lord Thule. I don’t understand you at all, and yet here we are, waiting for you to get it over with. That’s the thing about killing Lords and Ladies – you’re all so sure you’re crucial, and you all die with the same shocked look in your stupid faces. You just can’t imagine the world will get along without you, can you?”

She smiled at him and took his trembling hand.

“It hurts, doesn’t it? I’m sorry. It usually does. Go ahead and die, Lord Thule. Whatever part you thought you were to play in our future, I’m afraid it ends here.”

His mouth moved for a minute or two longer, but Katya did not bother to listen.

She waited until she could no longer feel the faint pulse at his wrist, and then she went back to check on Alex.

He was staring at the far wall, wide-eyed and delirious, drool leaking from the corners of his mouth.

“Alex, pull it together,” Katya said, grabbing him by the shoulders and shaking him vigorously. “We have a problem…oh, who I am kidding? We have so many problems. I’d really appreciate it if you could let me know you aren’t brain dead. Please?”

Alex blinked.

“That’s a start,” Katya said, hugging him. “That was a start, right Alex?”

Fifteen

Day Three

Things happened very quickly after that, or it seemed that way to Alex.

He blinked his eyes a third time, and the fire that had been consuming his mind was gone, only the afterimages of the brilliance littered across his retinas, and singed and burnt bits at the edges of his consciousness.

“Oh, no,” Alex whimpered. “Did I fall asleep?”

Katya stopped shaking him.

“Thank God! You’re awake!” Katya hugged him, her hands wet and sticky on his neck, and then hurried off. “I’m going to need a minute,” she yelled, trying doors until she found the bathroom. “Keep an eye on Gaul for me, in case he isn’t dead.”

Alex looked across the table at Gaul, collapsed on the floor, a small amount of blood smeared beneath his nose, and his glasses badly cracked. His pink eyes were open, if unmoving, and Alex felt entirely unsure as to whether he was still alive.

“What…uh…what do I do if he’s…?”

“I don’t know,” Katya said, shouting over the sound of running water. “Freeze his head?”

After a short hesitation, Alex went to check on Gaul.

He had no pulse, and his body was already starting to cool.

“I’m pretty sure he’s dead,” Alex yelled, walking over to the bathroom door. “He’s not breathing or…”

“Okay, fine, good,” Katya shouted. “I just need a minute.”

Alex waited impatiently, sitting at the table one moment, the next wandering through the living room, feeling elongated and ghastly as dawn slowly brightened the windows.

The toilet flushed, and he hurried over to the bathroom door expectantly.

The shower started to run.

Alex cursed and went back to check on Emily and Mitsuru. They were both lying where he had left them, sleeping in apparent peace.

He went back to the kitchen and filled a glass from the tap.

He drank the whole glass, wincing at the metallic taste of the water.

He refilled the glass, and then fished the prescription bottle out of his pocket, shaking a blue pill into his hand, and then adding another after a moment’s consideration. He washed them down with the rest of the water, and then went to refill his glass again.

Alex glanced over at the dining room table and froze.

The glass slipped from his hands to shatter in the white stone sink.

He hurried to the dining room, his heart fluttering.

It was empty. Alex looked beneath the table, opened the closet doors, searched the living room.

There was no body. No Gaul Thule.

He ran down the hall.

The front door was open.

Alex stuck his head out the door, looked down the street both ways. There were already lights on in some of the neighboring houses, and the freeway was humming along in the distance.

There was no sign of Gaul Thule.

Alex shut the door, bolting and locking it.

He went back to the bathroom door, but the shower was still running.

He went to the bedroom. Emily and Mitsuru were still out.

Alex trotted back to the bathroom, took a deep breath, and then knocked twice on the door.

“Katya?” He shouted. “We have a problem.”

“Can it wait two minutes?”

“I’m not…that is…I don’t know if…”

“I can barely hear you!”

Alex shouted through the door at the top of his lungs.

“I’m not sure if this is…”

“Fuck!” Katya shouted, sounding weary, as opposed to angry. “I can’t even…never mind. Come on in.”

“What?”

“I can’t hear you!”

Alex took a deep breath, and then turned the knob and lunged inside as if he expected opposition.

The bathroom was like a sauna, the mirror fogged, and every surface beaded with condensation. Steam billowed over the shower curtain. Alex relaxed slightly when he saw that the blue plastic curtain was opaque.

“Well?” Katya demanded. “What sort of problem do we have?”

“Thule is gone,” Alex said, leaning against the sink, and then flinching away when his jeans started to soak through. “The front door was open. I think he just…walked out.”

“I thought he was dead!”

“I thought so, too. I mean, I checked! There’s…there’s no way, right?”

“I don’t know. How could I? I removed part of his brain!”

“We are so fucked.”

“At least you didn’t spend last night in a closet. While you’re being useless, could you see if there’s any soap in this house? I can live without shampoo, but I…yeah. Could you check?”

Alex shook his head, and then went to look.

He checked beneath the kitchen sink, and found dish soap, a disturbingly vibrant shade of green, in a squeeze bottle. After a moment’s consideration, he returned it to the shelf and resumed his search.

Exhausting his options in the kitchen, he crept through the bedroom, as if the women there were sleeping and capable of being disturbed, and proceeded to ransack the master bathroom.

After opening two sets of completely empty drawers beneath the sink, he found a pump bottle of orange hand soap and a hair dryer in the next one, wedged in beside a collection of rusting clothes hangers. The drawer beneath it produced a plastic vial of conditioner, and then the final one contained a couple of ragged beach towels.

Alex collected the lot, and then hurried back to Katya.

He knocked perfunctorily before letting himself in, as the shower was still running.

“Find anything?” Katya called out.

“Yeah,” Alex said. “I’ve got soap, and towels, and stuff.”

A hand appeared from one side of the shower curtain.

“Give it here.”

Alex put the soap and conditioner in her hand.

They disappeared back behind the blue curtain.

“Hand soap.” Katya sounded disappointed. “Beggars can’t be choosers.”

“They really can’t, can they?” Emily yawned as she let herself in. “I’ve only just woken up, but things have already gotten so interesting! Alex, can I ask why you are in the bathroom while Katya is taking a shower?”

“Both of you can leave as far as I’m concerned,” Katya said. “Just give me a damn minute.”

“How mean! I wanted to congratulate you,” Emily said. “You’ve killed Gaul Thule, the most hated man in Central. That is quite an accomplishment!”

“Are you sure?” Alex asked. “The body…”

“That is a slight problem,” Emily said. “Still, why don’t we look on the bright side, at least until we have a reason to think otherwise.”

“Huh?”

“Don’t worry about it, Alex,” Emily said. “I’m sure we will bump into him again.”

“I don’t like that at all,” Alex said forlornly, sitting down on the toilet. “Not one bit.”

“Why are you two still here?” Katya called out, smearing herself with hand soap. “Can’t you have this conversation somewhere else?”

“Oh, yes, that reminds me!” Emily clasped her hands enthusiastically. “I’ve heard that Anastasia offered her hand in marriage to the young Lords of the Black Sun, on the condition that they kill off the Thule Cartel elite, Gaul Thule first among them.”

“That’s weird and old-fashioned,” Katya said. “Mai must have put her up to it. What does that matter anyway?”

“Don’t be coy,” Emily said. “I have to know!”

“You have to know what?”

“You’ve killed Gaul Thule, haven’t you? You’ve won the contest! So…do you think you’ll marry Anastasia?”

***

Eerie had her headphones on and was working on her laptop when there was a knock at the door.

Alex’s door, Eerie thought, warmth spreading across her cheeks.

It was not her laptop, of course – the most recent incarnation of that having been destroyed in the Outer Dark, but it was a reasonable facsimile, installed from a virtual image on the network. In truth, any computer could be ‘her’ computer, provided it was networked, and Eerie had fifteen minutes or so to install her custom OS.

She frowned at the door and paused her music, but did not take off her headphones.

The knocking continued.

“Yes?” Eerie called. “What is it? Alex isn’t here right now.”

“That’s perfect, Eerie. I came to talk to you.”

Eerie knew the voice from her internship at Processing. Her expression further soured.

She glanced around the room, at the unmade bed she was sprawled across, lying on her stomach, wearing only Alex’s sweatshirt, underwear, and socks. The space was in total disarray, the drawers emptied onto the floor and the desk rifled during the looting of the Far Shores.

“I don’t know, Adel,” she said. “I don’t think I want to talk to you.”

“I know you are angry with me, and I understand your reasons, but…look, Eerie, could we discuss this face to face? Please?”

Eerie took off her headphones and closed her laptop.

“There’s no one to overhear,” she pointed out. “The whole building is probably empty.”

“Eerie, please. Just hear me out, won’t you?”

“I don’t trust you,” Eerie said, searching for her clothes. “You lied to me and sent me right into a trap.”

“I came to apologize for that.”

She located her pants, buried beneath the comforter at the foot of the bed.

“I could have been really hurt, you know? And why?”

“That’s just it! I want to explain.”

Eerie slid her borrowed jeans on, but then sat back down on the bed, regarding the door nervously.

“Explain it to me, then, Adel. Tell me why.”

“I want to look you in the eyes, so that you know I’m telling you the truth.”

Eerie shook her head, though there was no one to see it.

“Not right now, okay? This isn’t a good time.”

“Eerie…listen. You’re trying to restart the Etheric Network remotely, aren’t you? I’ve got a networking utility on my phone. You got the local intranet running, and now you’re pinging the servers at Processing, looking for one that’s up and responding, so you can reboot.”

Eerie put her hands on the laptop as if to hide something.

“Nothing is responding, right?” Adel continued, his voice growing hoarse from shouting. “Let me tell you something interesting. I was at Processing just a few hours ago, and I rebooted everything manually. The servers are all up and running, minus one or two that have hardware shorts from the shutdown.”

Eerie opened her laptop again.

“If that’s true,” she said, tapping at the keyboard. “Then why can’t I raise anything?”

“The broadcast units on the roof of Processing must be down,” Adel explained. “The transmitters up there ionize one of the layers of the Ether, so we can send signal across it, to…”

“I know how the Network works, Adel.”

“Yes, I know. I’m sorry. This is a very difficult way to hold a conversation.”

Eerie finished with her keyboard and shut her laptop.

She stood, straightened her clothes, smoothed her hair quickly in the mirror, and then went to the door. Taking a deep breath, she opened it, just far enough that she could look out at Adel with one eye.

He smiled as soon as he saw her, but then the expression disintegrated into self-conscious doubt and nervousness. Adel looked tired and disheveled, the collar of his shirt stained and his hair protruding in every direction.

“Hello, Eerie,” he said, extending a hand to her. “It’s good to see you again.”

She looked at his hand doubtfully.

“What do you want?”

“You’re still mad,” Adel said, sounding a bit surprised. “Let me tell you what happened.”

“Emily told me everything,” Eerie said. “How she set it up.”

“She did?” Adel’s jaw dropped. “Well, that’s fine. I was going to tell you anyway. At least you know it wasn’t my idea to…”

“She said you were jealous. Of Alex.”

Adel blushed and recoiled, shaking his head.

“No, that’s not it! It’s not jealousy at all. You must understand…I do like you, Eerie,” Adel said, smiling pitifully. “That’s the truth.”

“Betraying me is a strange way to show it,” Eerie said. “I trusted you.”

“I know! Believe me, that is the worst part. I betrayed your trust, and that bothers me most of all,” Adel said, putting his hands on the doorposts. “Please, you have to forgive me. I want it to go back to the way…”

“Why did you do it?”

“Can I come inside?”

“Not until you tell me, and maybe not even then.”

“It’s hard to explain,” Adel said. “I didn’t know that it was a trap, for one thing.”

“You had to know something was wrong.”

“You sound different, Eerie,” Adel said, looking at her with concern. “I’ve never heard you talk this way before.”

“You preferred me before, didn’t you?”

“No, not at all!” Adel protested. “This conversation is just different. I’m not used to you being so perceptive. It’s true, I did know that Emily had something planned for you. She also assured me that you wouldn’t be harmed.”

“Did you believe her?”

“Yes. Of course! Why would Emily lie to me?”

“She’s an empath, Adel. Lying comes naturally to empaths. Bribery and seduction, too. Emily said that all she had to do was flirt a little and you would do anything. She said you were angry, about Alex and I dating, and that she promised you revenge.”

“You already said Emily was a liar! Why do you believe any of this?”

“Give me a better explanation.”

“Emily told me you would be fine, I swear it,” Adel said, his face reddening. “You have to believe that. It was Alex…Emily told me that she wanted to separate the two of you. That she would take him away, from Central…and from you.” Adel wiped the sweat from his forehead with his sleeve. “Alex is no good for you. You must know that! He’s a self-absorbed jerk, and—”

“Alex is not a jerk!” Eerie shouted. “Who are you to talk about him?”

“I don’t mean it like that,” Adel insisted. “Even if Alex is a good guy, he’s being targeted by the Hegemony, the Black Sun, the Anathema, all of them. You know that. He’s screwed. One side or another is going to get to him, and…”

“That’s not going to happen,” Eerie said defiantly. “I won’t let it happen.”

“It will happen,” Adel said. “I respect you, Eerie, but you are just one girl against whole cartels. What are you going to do against the Thule Cartel or the Black Sun?”

“You might be surprised,” Eerie said. “I’m going to close the door now.”

“Wait, wait! Just hear me out. I was trying to help you, Eerie. I thought, if Emily got rid of Alex, then you would be safe. I didn’t want you to have to suffer because of some stupid crush. I thought if I removed Alex from the equation, you might come to your senses, and…”

“…fall for you, instead?” Eerie said. “I don’t want to talk anymore.”

“I think I do miss the old you,” Adel said. “It was easier to talk to you.”

“I knew it! That’s gross.” Eerie started to close the door. “Go away!”

“I can’t! Even if you don’t want me to be here, we need to talk,” Adel said, sticking his foot in the door to keep it from closing completely. “You need the Network running, right? That’s what you are trying to do, isn’t it? I need the same thing.”

“Why should I care?” Eerie leaned on the door. “You’re a creep, Adel!”

“Please just listen to me,” Adel said. “We need each other.”

“I don’t need you at all.”

“You do, you just can’t see it yet,” Adel said. “We need to go to Processing together. We need to get the Network back online. You can’t do it without me – not in time, anyway. I have all the passwords, the door codes, everything.”

“Great,” Eerie said. “Go do it, then. You don’t need me.”

“You don’t understand,” Adel said. “It’s the perfect chance for us to talk. I need someone to help me, anyway, and you already know what to do. Come on, it’ll be like old times,” Adel said insistently. “We’ll work together. It’ll be fun! Please, just – I want your help, Eerie, and you need mine. You know that Emily and Alex and the rest won’t be able to return safely without Network guidance. There’s something in it for both of us. Maybe you don’t want to be friends anymore, but that’s a place to start, right?”

***

Alex knocked lightly on the bedroom door, hoping that he would not receive an answer. Mitsuru yelled that the door was unlocked. Considering that an invitation, Alex let himself in.

The room lighting was a contrast of extremes, sunlight slipping around the blinds, white beams that crisscrossed the otherwise dark room. It took Alex’s eyes a few seconds to adjust enough to find Mitsuru in the corner of the room, sitting on one of the mattresses and staring at the blank wall with defocused intensity.

The resurrected Auditor was perfectly still and composed, but Alex could nonetheless feel the distress radiating from her across the room.

“Hi, Ms. Aoki,” Alex said, scratching at his arm nervously. “It’s been a while.”

Her lips did not move, but he heard her voice clear as day in his head.

Since our encounter in a memory of Mexico, you mean? I thought it had been minutes.

“Less than an hour, actually,” Alex said, puzzled at her failure to speak. “That’s not what I meant, though. I’m – I really don’t get it, but I know you’ve been through a lot. I guess I just wanted to say that I’m happy you’re back.”

He waited for a moment, and then when Mitsuru did not respond, he nodded to himself and headed for the door. She waited until he had the doorknob in his hand.

I’m not entirely sure that I am altogether back. I’m not entirely sure I ever left.

“What do you mean? Are you not feeling well?”

I don’t know about well, Mitsuru thought. I certainly don’t feel right.

“What’s wrong?”

Mitsuru turned slightly, her bloodshot eyes settling on him. Alex nearly jumped at the unexpected movement.

I’m not sure you’re the right person to talk to about this.

“That’s probably true,” Alex said. “I’m here, though, and I’m willing to listen.”

Mitsuru looked very slightly surprised, and Alex braced himself to be asked to leave. Instead, she nodded slowly.

Emily Muir allowed me to download a record of recent events from her mind. She believes you have changed for the better, despite, or because of some rather cruel experiences. I confess that I was initially dismissive, as Miss Muir has always had a rather elevated opinion of you. Maybe I was wrong.

Alex blushed and muttered something incoherent.

I’m told you spent some time in a simulation recently yourself, Mitsuru thought, looking at him inquisitively. What was it like?

“It was a little like yours,” Alex said. “Not from my memories, though, because juvenile detention and administrative segregation aren’t therapeutic, I guess. It was a beach. I’m not sure if it was a real place, or a composite, or something Rebecca made up for me.”

A beach as well. Mitsuru closed her eyes for a moment. Rebecca loves the beach.

“Doesn’t everyone? I mean, I’ve hardly ever been, but the beach at Ana’s island, in Thailand or whatever…”

Vietnam, according to intelligence, Mitsuru corrected. Ha Long Bay.

“Sure. It was alright, that’s all I’m saying. A nice spot.”

Rebecca is obsessed with the beach. She went all the time when she was just an Auditor. Growing up in Southern California, I suppose. She always wanted to take me there when I was depressed. I think it’s her go-to solution when the people around her are hurting.

Alex nodded and waited.

Did the simulation help you, Alex?

“Such a weird situation,” Alex said, sitting on the unoccupied mattress. “People were trying to break into my head, first the Anathema, and then Eerie’s sister, Samnang Banh. I could feel it happening, the whole time, but in the background, like I was getting dental work done with not quite enough anesthesia or something. I did sessions with Rebecca, therapy and training, yoga on the beach, running and swimming and stuff. The whole time, in the back of my head, I knew that there were people on the outside, and when they finally got in, I would be tortured. Kind of a downer.”

What happened?

“Simulation-Rebecca did what she could to prepare me,” Alex said, shrugging. “Then Samnang got in, and sure enough, it was all torture and mind games.”

Oh.

“It was a bad scene,” Alex said, suppressing a shudder. “The prep in the simulation definitely made a difference.”

You mean it helped?

“Yeah. I guess that’s what I mean.”

I’m not sure that the simulation helped me. I’m not sure that anything can.

“Why?”

I was dead, Mitsuru thought, briefly closing her red eyes. I don’t remember it, but I was dead, and now I’m not. I can’t seem to hold the idea in my mind.

“I think anyone would struggle with that. Did you ask Emily about it?”

Why would I ask Miss Muir?

“Ah, you know. She’s dead, too, I guess,” Alex said, frowning. “That’s what she says. I thought maybe she might have some advice or something, since you’re both going through…”

Emily died by her own hand, did she not?

“I’m not…she was drowned,” Alex said. “She – they put her in a hole, filled it with water, and then put a lid on the top so she couldn’t get out.”

It was her choice, though. The Anathema did not force her.

“I don’t know,” Alex admitted. “I don’t think she wanted to do that.”

You prefer to think that, Mitsuru thought, training her eyes on him with an intent expression. Do you feel responsible for her death?

“Doesn’t matter,” Alex said. “We aren’t here to talk about me. I’m good to go. The question is, how do we get you to the same place?”

You want me to kill people. That’s all anyone ever wants from me.

“I want you to feel better, because you saved me on one of the worst nights of my life,” Alex said. “You’ve always been good to me, Ms. Aoki.”

Have I?

“As long as we don’t count the Program,” Alex said, grinning. “You’ve been there for me in your own way. I’m just trying to return the favor.”

She sighed, and then stretched out, extending her arms and throwing her head back.

“I give up,” Mitsuru said, cracking her neck. “I’ll try and figure out how to get back to being alive on one condition.”

“Anything,” Alex said. “Well, I mean, obviously not anything,” he corrected hurriedly. “But, you know, almost.”

“Listening to you talk makes my head hurt,” Mitsuru grumbled, bending to touch her toes. “You and Becca both. I thought you LA types were supposed to talk like the people on TV.”

“The only time I remember being in LA in my life was a temporary custody transfer,” Alex said bashfully. “I think I needed a tetanus shot or something.”

“Right, of course.”

“What do you need from me, Ms. Aoki?”

“You’re an Auditor, aren’t you? Then you can call me Mitsuru,” she said. “I’ll go along with all this on one condition, Alex. You are forbidden from giving me any more pep talks.”

Alex looked momentarily stunned, then he laughed.

“Was it that bad?”

“It wasn’t good,” Mitsuru acknowledged, standing and then rolling up on to her toes. “I’ll give you credit for trying, though.”

“I’ll take it,” Alex said, checking his phone. “Emily says we’ve got about thirty minutes before we move out. You wanna do some yoga?”

“Only if you promise to stop acting like the grownup in this situation,” Mitsuru said. “It’s disconcerting.”

***

The technicians manning the fixed apport station at the Far Shores seemed entirely comfortable taking orders from Adel and started preparations for an apport to Processing on demand. Eerie followed reluctantly, wishing she had service on her phone, so she could at least text Alex.

She worried about leaving Alex on his own.

He made so many mistakes when she wasn’t there to look after him.

The apport platform was a gleaming metal disc. When Eerie stepped onto it, she felt the cold seep through her sneakers, numbing her feet. There was a long delay while the technicians worked, and then the apport occurred without warning. One moment they stood on the platform, Eerie standing safely out of reach while Adel shifted impatiently and checked his watch, and the next they were in an empty fixed apport station in the lobby of the Processing building downtown, only half the lights on and the air smelling strongly of ozone.

The apport was brutal. It left them on the floor, retching and disoriented.

Eerie recovered first, but suppressed her instinct to check on Adel, waiting instead until he recovered enough to stand.

“Come on,” Eerie said. “We have work to do.”

“Right, yes,” Adel said, putting a hand on the wall for stability. “We need to get the servers up.”

Eerie started down the hall toward the elevators.

“I know what I need,” Eerie said. “Why are you doing this?”

“Emily needs the Network up to apport safely. Shorter apports are okay on an emergency server, but moving to and from Central is way too risky,” Adel said, following her woozily. “I work for her.”

“Why?”

“She’s got some good ideas,” Adel said. “You should try talking to her about it.”

“I’ve heard a lot of Emily’s ideas,” Eerie replied, pushing the elevator call button. “I don’t always like them.”

“I never wanted to work for a cartel,” Adel said, walking into the elevator ahead of her. “I wanted to work for the Administration. You know that.”

“I remember,” Eerie said, taking up a position as far from Adel as the elevator would allow. “You wanted to be a sys admin.”

“My parents never would have let me,” Adel said moodily. “They told me last year. I might have been able to talk my dad into it, maybe, but my mother doesn’t change her mind. It was going to be the family cartel for me – and the pitiful little family network – and then maybe one day promotion up the ranks in the Hegemony, maybe even marry into the North Cartel. That’s what they had in mind for me.”

Eerie held the button for the bottom floor, where the servers that were the backbone of the Network lived, in an insulated and air-conditioned vault in the basement, as if she could make the elevator move faster by continued pressure.

“Emily offered you a way out,” Eerie said. “It was the same for my friend Vivik.”

“Vivik told me you were angry with him, too,” Adel said. “He’s a good guy, you know.”

“I thought so. Maybe he still is.”

“What about me?” Adel asked hopefully. “Do you think you could…?”

“Steve would have hurt me, if he could have,” Eerie said, looking at her feet. “You and I were supposed to be friends. I really thought so.”

Adel pulled at his sweat-damp hair and moaned.

“I know, and I’m so sorry,” Adel said. “I swear to God, if I could take it all back, I would.”

“I don’t understand,” Eerie said. “What did I ever do to you?”

“Nothing. You did nothing. It’s all my fault, Eerie.”

“Was being friends not enough?”

She gave him a questioning look as the elevator slowed.

“I wanted you to like me more than you did,” Adel said, his shoulders slumped. “That’s it, I guess.”

The door opened and Eerie fled the elevator.

Adel sighed, and did not bother to try and keep up.

***

Emily opened the sliding glass door and called to them. Alex was soaked with sweat, his legs trembling from exertion as he struggled to hold a seemingly endless tree pose. He broke the pose gratefully and hurried inside.

“We leave in ten minutes,” Emily said, pushing a towel into his chest. “Please be ready.”

He wiped himself off quickly, dropped the towel to the floor, and then took a seat on the couch, not far from where Katya sat, grimacing slightly and rubbing her neck.

“Hey,” he said, waving to get her attention. “You okay?”

“What? Oh, yeah,” Katya said. “I’m fine.”

“You don’t look fine. C’mon. What gives?”

“Nothing. I’m good,” Katya said dully. “Ready to go.”

“Give me a break,” Alex said, grabbing Katya by the shoulder. “You sound like your dog just died. What’s going on?”

“I told you I’m fine,” Katya said, shrugging his hand off. “Nothing to worry about.”

“That just makes me worry more,” Alex persisted. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing is wrong.”

“It’s the aftereffects of her process,” Emily said, grinning mischievously. “The methods she’s been trained to use to become invisible to telepaths and precognitives are ego destroying. She’s suppressed her own existence. It’s not a thing to be done lightly, or without consequences.”

“Be quiet, Emily,” Katya said. “Mind your own business.”

“That’s horrible,” Alex said, aghast. “Is it really true?”

“Is what true?” Mitsuru entered the room running a towel over her hair. “Is something wrong with Katya?”

“All of you can fuck right off,” Katya said, sounding more tired than angry. “Discussion is closed.”

“But, Katya…” Alex reached for Katya. “I…”

Katya pushed his hand aside.

“I’m fine,” she said. “Move on.”

Alex glanced around for support, but Mitsuru had already lost interest, and Emily seemed amused by the entire thing.

“How do we get back?” Alex asked. “I thought we needed a fixed apport, or something.”

“We do,” Emily said, her attention on the phone she had gotten somewhere.

“There’s no big metal disc or anything here,” Alex said, gesturing at the track home. “How are we going to apport in just a few minutes?”

“The apport won’t happen for a bit, I’m afraid. There’s still a few things to arrange on that front. We need the Network online, and we need to borrow someone’s fixed apport station, since the local one appears to have been destroyed by Alistair.”

“You just said we were leaving in ten minutes!”

“Yes,” Emily said, her eyes flicking up briefly from her phone. “That’s when the car I called arrives.”

Sixteen

Day Three

A black SUV pulled up in front of the house, facets in the paint gleaming like Formica in the sun, making no sound aside from the tires crunching across the grit that had gathered in the gutter. Katya shuffled into the passenger seat without a word to anyone, and before Alex knew it, he was sitting between Emily and Mitsuru in the back.

There was just enough space that Alex could avoid his hip touching one of the women, but not the other. After a period of frantic shifting, he settled against Emily, doing his best to make as little contact as the bench seat allowed. Mitsuru ignored the whole thing, her chin resting on her hand as she stared disinterestedly out the window.

The driver confirmed their destination with Emily in a melodious Punjabi accent, and they were on their way. A subdivision gave way to a planned suburban grid, and then to freeway, all bordered by tan and brown wasteland, the backgrounds ruthlessly monotonous. Alex tried to look out the window in Emily’s direction, but there was nothing to see, and his gaze drifted naturally over to her. She grinned at him when she caught him staring, and he went back to looking straight ahead, watching the beads tied to the rearview mirror gently swing.

The traffic was already terrible, despite the hour.

They pulled on to the freeway, and within an exit or so, their progress was reduced to a crawl. The driver muttered to himself briefly, and then lapsed into stoic acceptance. The radio was on, the volume so low that Alex could only hear barely audible jingles and the muted crackle of static.

He lasted fifteen minutes before it got to him.

“Where are we going?” Alex turned to face Emily, and then turned away again hurriedly when he realized how close their faces were. “Somewhere in actual Las Vegas?”

“It could not be more Vegas,” Emily confirmed, still busy with her phone. “It’s a big hotel on the Strip. I think you’ll like it! It’s very fancy.”

“I feel underdressed,” Alex said, glancing at his grubby jeans and the T-shirt he’d been wearing since yesterday, still damp from yoga. “You could have told me we were going somewhere nice.”

“You’ve never dressed up in the entire time I’ve known you,” Emily said. “Did you bring a suit with you just in case, dear?”

“No, I just would have – I mean, I have nicer jeans. That’s all.”

Emily giggled. Alex held out for another couple of minutes of relative silence. He thought they had advanced about two exits in the gridlock, but the scenery was so dismally unchanging that it was hard to be sure.

Emily put the phone in her lap and stretched her hands. Alex took the opportunity to try and sneak a glance at the display.

“Nosey boy,” Emily said, poking him in the side. “Don’t you trust me?”

“It’s not that,” Alex protested. “I’m just bored.”

“You really don’t trust me!” Emily laughed. “I don’t mind telling you what I’m doing, but you have to at least do me the courtesy of asking.”

“Fine,” Alex said, rolling his eyes. “What are you doing?”

“I was texting Vivik,” Emily said. “The timing for this next part is going to be very tricky, so I needed to check on how everyone else is doing.”

Mitsuru stirred.

“Who are you spying on?” Mitsuru demanded. “What are you getting us into, Emily?”

“There are so many pieces on the board that, without Vivik’s help, it would be impossible to keep track of them all. As for what I’m getting you into, we will return to Central, hopefully in time to keep the Thule Cartel from slaughtering everyone. We just have one teensy little stop to make on the way, and then…”

“A stop?” Alex gave Emily a puzzled look. “You mean this hotel, or whatever?”

“We are going to the hotel to arrange the apport,” Emily explained patiently. “We’ve no other choice than to ask a favor from an old friend.”

“What old friend?”

“You’ll see.”

Alex wanted to tear his hair out.

“Which hotel is it?” Alex asked.

“The Golden Flower,” Emily said.

Katya turned around, looking at Emily over the back of her seat.

“Anastasia keeps a suite there,” Katya said. “Don’t try to tell me that’s a coincidence.”

“It’s not a coincidence,” Emily agreed happily. “That’s exactly why we are going there, at this very moment.”

“It is?” Katya looked confused. “What are you up to, Emily?”

“I’m performing another of my unrecognized virtuous deeds,” Emily explained. “Anastasia is staying in the penthouse, according to Vivik, passing the time while a temporary apport station is assembled. This offers a perfect opportunity to reunite you with your beloved Mistress, Katya, and to deliver the news of Gaul Thule’s death! Don’t you think Anastasia will be thrilled?”

Katya frowned, and looked as if she wanted to say something. Then she shut her mouth abruptly and turned back toward the windshield.

“I’ve done you any number of favors lately, haven’t I, Katya?” Emily picked up her phone again. “The least you could do in return is answer my question.”

“You don’t say,” Katya said dully. “What do you want to know?”

“I want to know if you plan to marry Anastasia! It almost seems rude not to, if you ask me, after she put herself on the line in such a dramatic fashion. I’d imagine that being rejected after a public offer like that would be devastating for any girl,” Emily said, winking at Alex. “Anastasia might never recover.”

Katya did not respond. Alex blushed fiercely and stared into his lap, his fingers in knots.

“Would you both wear dresses?” Emily asked, her eyes shining with delight. “You’re very feminine, Katya, but I do think you could pull off a suit if you wanted to. Oh! Do you think Anastasia would wear white or red?”

Katya said nothing, but Alex could see the tension in her posture.

“She seems rather delicate and childish, but then again, some people prefer that sort of thing,” Emily said, with a pointed glance at Alex. “She does seem rather easy to break, with that tiny body. I’d imagine you’d have to be very gentle on your wedding night.”

“Emily, stop it,” Alex said. “That’s enough.”

“Did I say something bad?” Emily smiled at him. “I’m just speculating. Thinking out loud. A bad habit, I know, but the process of becoming Anathema is very solitary. You spend quite a while in a flooded hole, alone in the dark, while every cell in your body is deconstructed and replaced.”

“I get it, just go easy on Katya,” Alex pleaded. “Please?”

“Do you think I’m picking on her? I’m just asking questions!” Emily turned her attention on Alex. “What do you think, then? Should Katya cash in on the opportunity of a lifetime and marry a princess?”

Alex muttered beneath his breath.

“What was that, dear? Are you jealous?” Emily prodded him in his side. “Do you wish you had chosen a richer and more socially acceptable girl?”

“No! No, I…that is to say, I don’t think that’s fair to…”

“You’re a fine one to talk about being fair,” Emily said. “What would you do if you were in Katya’s shoes? Given the chance, would you marry Anastasia Martynova?”

“Cut it out, Emily!”

“I know all too well how easily your affections go wandering,” Emily said. “I wouldn’t put it past you. But maybe Anastasia isn’t your type? What is it that you don’t like? Just not into goths? Or are you bothered by women who have goals in life other than being with you?”

Alex felt a hot rush of emotion in his chest.

Katya reached over and tugged on the driver’s sleeve.

“Could you pull over, please? Anywhere on the shoulder will do,” Katya said. “I won’t be long. I just need to murder the blonde in the back.”

The driver did not react, his full attention on the traffic.

“I mean it, asshole,” Katya snarled. “Pull over now.”

“You’re so overdramatic, Katya,” Emily chided. “The poor man can’t hear you or notice anything you do. A very small Isolation Field seemed like a prudent safeguard.”

Katya released her hold on the driver’s sleeve, and he adjusted his grip on the wheel with an expression of annoyance.

“You couldn’t kill me in any case,” Emily said triumphantly. “It simply can’t be done, no matter how many needles you apport into my brain.”

“That’s probably what Gaul Thule thought, too,” Katya said, her voice barely audible. “Don’t test me, Emily. I will find a way.”

“If things go as badly as John seems to think they will, then you may not have to. Don’t look so down, Katya, dear,” Emily said, turning her attention back to her phone. “There’s every chance that none of us will survive.”

Traffic was bad, and it became worse the closer they drew to the towering hotels of the Strip. It took most of an hour to reach their destination. When the car finally came to a halt, Alex hurried out impatiently onto the sidewalk, startled by the heat of the morning.

Emily led the motley group through the hotel lobby with the self-assurance of a regular guest, heading past the main desk to the reserved lobby beyond, ignoring the security guard who hurried over to shoo her away. Emily marched up to the reception desk and gave the man behind the counter a dazzling smile.

“My name is Emily Muir. Would you please let Anastasia Martynova know that we are here?”

The clerk nodded and picked up the phone.

They did not have to wait long. A private elevator behind the hotel lobby opened, spilling a pair of black wolves wearing collars, a handful of servants, and a young woman in a veil and a fancy black dress into the hotel lobby.

“Of all the people I’ve ever underestimated, Miss Muir, you absolutely take the cake,” Anastasia said, striding purposefully across the lobby, flanked by a severe man in a black suit and a demure woman in a black dress. “You do not lack for boldness, or initiative, do you?”

“Ana!” Katya cried out, pushing to the front of their group, her expression anguished. “Oh my God! Ana, I…”

“Not here,” Anastasia snapped. “We are not exclusively among friends.”

Katya stiffened, her face reddening as she gave Anastasia a quick nod. Alex watched with obvious concern.

“Aw. Are we still not friends?” Emily grinned. “After everything I’ve done for you, too.”

Anastasia stopped in front of them, giving the group an appraising look.

“Ms. Aoki! I’m pleased to see you,” Anastasia said, raising a plucked eyebrow. “I had heard that you were dead.”

“I’m told that I was, but if so, I never noticed it,” Mitsuru said. “I feel fine.”

“A little forgetfulness can be a blessing,” Emily explained blithely. “Isn’t that right, Alex?”

“I see that your talent for survival has not yet failed you, Mr. Warner,” Anastasia said. “I am glad.”

“I heard about your dad,” Alex said bashfully. “I’m sorry, Anastasia.”

“Then you must have also heard that I am now the Mistress of the Black Sun, and to be addressed accordingly,” Anastasia said, with a slight smile. “Your condolences, however, are appreciated.”

“Ana…Lady Martynova, please,” Katya said, approaching hesitantly. “I really need to talk to you.”

“I am also most eager for us to speak,” Anastasia said. “First, however, I must know why all of you are here.”

“I just did you quite the favor, so I thought that you might want to do me a tiny one in return,” Emily said, smiling. “Also, I think you have to marry Katya.”

Anastasia turned her puzzled look on Katya.

“It’s a long story,” Katya said. “Involving you-know-who.”

Anastasia gestured and a cloud of servants and hotel employees descended like the locusts on Egypt.

Red-jacketed bell boys and smiling hospitality managers in suits ushered them to the elevators in thoughtfully separated groups, the entire process taking place so rapidly that Alex found himself voicing his late objections to a nervous elevator operator. He shut up and focused on the view, feeling a weird glee when the counter indicated that they had stopped at the very top floor.

A trio of women in black dresses were waiting when the doors opened, taking some of the group one way down the hall, and some in another direction. Alex was hustled off with Katya, Emily giving him a mirthful grin as he was forced away. He and Katya were escorted to a room at the end of the hall, the interior so spacious that it took Alex a moment to realize that it was a suite and not a lobby.

He took in the sunken floor and handmade furniture, the curved window looking out onto the Strip below, and the full kitchen and stocked bar, and was about to say something appreciative, when he noticed that Anastasia and Katya were still standing just inside the door, Anastasia clutching Katya’s upper arms.

“Oh, Katya, I’m so sorry,” Anastasia said tearfully, sliding down to her knees. “I’ve lost him. I tried to keep Timor close, and now I’ve lost him forever.”

“Everyone out,” the woman who had accompanied Anastasia said, gesturing to the guards and servants. “Now.”

The tall man in the somber suit opened the door and ushered them from the room. Alex tried to follow and was rebuffed by the woman in the black dress.

“You stay,” the woman said, giving him a severe look. “The Mistress’s orders.”

Alex wanted to object and argue, but now Katya was also on her knees, her head buried in Anastasia’s shoulder.

“It’s not your fault, Ana,” Katya said, between sobs. “Timor was proud to have the responsibility. He wanted to protect you.”

“I promised that I would keep him safe!” Anastasia wailed. “I was distracted by the dance, by all of my affairs, and I lost him. I should never have promoted Renton, I should have never put Timor at risk! I’ve cost you your brother, Katya. Can you ever forgive me?”

Katya wrapped her arms around Anastasia’s shoulders.

“I’m sorry about Josef,” Katya said. “I know you loved him. This isn’t…this wasn’t…”

They clutched each other as they wept, bent by the weight of their shared grief.

“I really shouldn’t be here,” Alex murmured. “This isn’t…”

“It’s not your fault. Timor would have wanted to be there with you. I wish I had been there, Ana. I wish I had died,” Katya said, her voice breaking down. “Right there beside him.”

“Please don’t say that,” Anastasia said, drying her eyes. “Never say that again. Never even think it. I still need you. Our work is not done.”

“Yes, it is, Ana. It is,” Katya said. “I took a chunk out of his brain. I killed him.”

“Do you mean…?”

“I killed him,” Katya repeated, dull eyed with exhaustion. “I killed Gaul Thule.”

Anastasia laughed, and to Alex’s ears, the laughter was extraordinarily bitter.

“What a fool Emily has made of me! I sent soldiers and Lords to do an assassin’s work,” Anastasia said. “Tell me what happened.”

The woman in the black dress helped them to a nearby table and brought water and tea while Katya told the story of Gaul Thule’s assassination. Alex listened from an ambiguous distance and felt deeply uncomfortable. No attempt was made to seat him or offer him a drink, so he hovered and felt superfluous.

“You allowed Emily to program you?”

“What other choice did I have?”

“I can think of a number of less dangerous options,” Anastasia said. “Did she decide on the manner of his death?”

“What?” Alex scratched his head. “Why does that matter?”

“It is a peculiar deviation from Katya’s standard methods of assassination,” Anastasia said. “Typically, she uses needles, but Emily programmed her to remove tissue from Lord Thule’s brain instead. I think we can safely assume Emily had her reasons for choosing this method. Are you certain that he was dead?”

“No. We lost the body,” Katya admitted. “Someone took it, or he walked away with part of his brain missing.”

“I see.” Anastasia frowned. “Tell me the rest, please.”

Katya finished her story, and then glared at Anastasia.

“Did you really offer to marry one of those stuck-up jerks?” Katya sniffled and wiped her eyes. “Why didn’t you just tell them to kill the Thule Cartel for you? You’re their boss! You don’t have to offer prizes.”

“Marriage is something that would have been expected of me eventually,” Anastasia explained. “I felt that I needed to be absolutely certain.”

“I guess you are, now,” Katya said. “It’s done.”

“My father’s honor demands more,” Anastasia said. “The murderers who took his life must also die, so that Josef Martynova might be buried atop their severed heads. It is a pity the body of Gaul Thule disappeared.”

“When do we go back to Central?” Alex asked. “I’m worried about Eerie.”

The two women turned to stare at him. Alex squirmed self-consciously under their gazes.

“What?” he demanded. “I’ve been standing here for like ten minutes!”

“Are you no longer an Auditor?” Anastasia looked amused. “You should be asking Ms. Gallow what your next move might be, I would think.”

“Yeah,” Katya said glumly. “About that.”

“Yes, Katya,” Anastasia said. “Let’s talk about that.”

***

Alistair kept the girl moving, an arm around her waist and one of her arms thrown across his shoulders. She was probably capable of walking, but he was in a hurry, so only the tips of Gabriela Thule’s toes scraped the sidewalk on the approach to the building.

Central had been a mess of checkpoints and strongholds as recently as yesterday, but the conflict had degenerated as both sides lost arms and manpower. The fighting was now spread across the city, sporadic running conflicts that were meant as displays more than anything, as the Thule and North factions settled into occupied neighborhoods and compounds. Most of the city was in Thule hands, but the North Cartel still held the approach to the city and several blocks at the heart of Central, including most of the former Administrative buildings.

He moved between two of those now, a darkened concrete ziggurat to his right, and an eight-story office tower to his left. The first had contained the day-to-day apparatus of the Administration, and was now looted and partially burnt, while the one on the right had housed the executive offices, and was held by the North Cartel, who had reinforced the building and established sniper nests on the roof.

He slipped past the main building, moving quickly through the areas covered by the halogen security lights, occasionally turning the snipers’ heads when stealth was impossible.

There was a low concrete bunker behind the building, where one might have expected a utility building or a parking lot. It looked a little like a subway entrance, with broad stairs and even an escalator, currently motionless.

The security gate was down, and there were two guards stationed beside the gate.

Alistair set Gabriela down gently in a planter, resting her back against a white flowering tree that had already started to litter her body with petals as he arranged her limp limbs. She was still in the telepathic trance he had put her in, to prevent her going into shock over the gunshot, but he could tell she was starting to wake back up. It wouldn’t be much longer, he thought, leaving her behind and slinking off in the direction of the bunker.

He was grateful that someone had been smart enough to put a vest on the Thule girl. The ballistic armor had saved her life, stopping the bullet short of the skin, though the impact was still enough to bruise her chest and knock her for a loop.

The approach was too broad and well-lit for conventional stealth, but the guards’ psychic defenses were hastily constructed, hardly a match for his protocol.

Alistair approached the guards whistling with his hands in his pockets.

They ignored him, one leaning against the gate with his arms folded, the other sitting on the stairs with his back to Alistair, stifling a yawn.

He drew his knife as he left the stairs and let them see him at the last possible moment, when he was already close enough to reach out and touch them.

He had no intentions of being sporting. It was simply more effective.

The shock laid their minds bare to him, and he went to work on two levels.

He kicked the sitting guard in the head, like he was attempting a penalty kick, and then let the movement carry him forward, grabbing the second guard by his face and driving his head into the gate. Alistair drove the knife into his stomach before he could reach for his gun, smashing his head a second time for good measure.

He gauged the other man’s recovery carefully.

Alistair waited until the guard had nearly recovered his wits and footing from the kick, and then he spun around, pulling the knife from one guard’s stomach, and putting it in the eye of the other.

Alistair turned to collect the girl, and found her not too far behind him, looking bashful and a little unsteady. She was coated in equal parts mud and gore, moving slowly and with a pronounced limp, but seemed remarkably composed.

“I remember you,” Gabriela said, looking him over. “You work for my uncle. You’re Mr. Alistair.”

“I used to work for your uncle,” Alistair said, wondering why he felt a moment of regret. “Now, I’m freelance.”

“You’re here for me, aren’t you?” The Thule girl did not look at all worried. “Did my uncle send you?”

“I haven’t spoken to Gaul since I, uh, resigned. Do you mind if I escort you, anyway?”

The girl surprised him by simply nodding.

“That’s fine,” she said. “What happens next?”

“I’m going to take you back home, but I need an apport station,” Alistair said, turning his attention to the gate. “We are going to borrow this one.”

Gabriela leaned against the wall while Alistair opened a pair of locks with downloaded telekinesis. She was pale beneath the grime, he noticed, and had a slight tremor, despite her confident words and presentation.

Alistair pushed the gate open, wondering exactly how long she could remain on her feet.

They started down the stairs. Gabriela stumbled on the second flight, forcing Alistair to scoop her up and carry her down the rest of the way, something he was just barely strong enough to do.

He set her down at the bottom of the stairs, and she basically collapsed, sprawling on the floor of the lobby.

As Alistair figured out the best way to support her and keep at least one hand free, he sent out a wave of telepathic probes, putting together a composite picture of the building with the combined perceptions of the people inside of it.

It was not a big space. One floor, two crossed hallways with a pair of doors apiece, and one large room at the end of the hallway opposite the stairs, which had to be the platform.

There were two people waiting for him in the hallway.

Not guards. Legitimate Operators, with the kind of implanted shielding that would take most telepaths hours to pry apart.

The platform room was even more heavily shielded than the individual Operators. His probes failed and fizzled in the vicinity.

Experience told him that he was expected.

He carried the Thule girl as far as the hallway, and then set her carefully down in a corner, between a vending machine and a trashcan.

She did not say anything, but she opened her eyes briefly. Her breathing was shallow but regular. Alistair decided it would have to do.

“I’m going to clear the way,” Alistair said. “Give me a shout if anyone comes this way, okay?”

She surprised him again with a short nod. He had not been entirely sure that she was conscious.

Alistair started down the hallway.

His progress was halted immediately by a security gate, transparent Kevlar sandwiched between solid plates of stainless steel, with a digital lock and a retinal scanner, and all the fail-safes.

Alistair stopped, and just looked at the gate for a long time, a strange expression on his face.

Then he simply walked through the gate, as if it were not there.

Which, of course, was exactly the case.

“Not bad work. A very realistic illusion,” Alistair said. “You almost had me there.”

He was assailed by visions of pits that dropped into stygian depths, walls of flame, traps and gates and barriers.

Alistair kept on walking.

“It’s no use,” he said. “I’ve noticed already. Do you really think a few hallucinations will be enough to turn me back?”

A battering ram of telekinetic force smashed into Alistair, knocking him from his feet and sending him tumbling down the hallway like a leaf caught in a breeze. Only a hastily downloaded barrier protocol prevented him from being turned to pulp against one of the walls. As it was, his movements were constrained by what felt like broken ribs.

“A distraction,” Alistair said, blinking once, and then opening his eyes again. “Got it.”

Kevin Morales-North stood in the middle of the hallway, his arms folded across his broad chest.

Collette Higgins, who he knew only from files, stood just behind him, at the head of a group of about ten masked and armored gunmen. Only a couple appeared to be Operators, according to tactical analysis and overlay, but it was a crowd nonetheless.

Alistair drew his gun, but left it hanging casually by his side.

“You sure you want to do this?” He gave them an amiable smile. “I just want to borrow your apport station for a minute. We don’t have to fight.”

“I don’t understand why you are here, or why you are with Gabriela Thule,” Kevin said. “Are the Thule Cartel and the Anathema aligned? Are you kidnapping her? What is this?”

“Figure it out for yourself, kid,” Alistair said, raising his gun and moving forward.

The illusions kicked in again immediately, obscuring his targets and turning his vision into a fantastic kaleidoscope of fractured images and dislocated impressions, but Alistair was ready for that.

The White Flame Meditation – which was either a telepathic protocol disguised as a meditative practice, or an incredibly effective application of the placebo effect, depending on who you asked – was one of the first lessons that every telepath was taught.

The world was illuminated. Lies and deceptions burnt away.

The North Operators benefited from the support of a capable illusionist, but Alistair being Alistair, the meditation was very effective.

Alistair charged down a hallway that was funhouse distorted, but he could see his opposition, and he knew which way to go, so that was workable. He opened fire as he moved.

Kevin Morales-North used his telekinesis as a crude barrier, but not before Alistair managed to drop two of the gunmen behind him.

Alistair emptied the gun and then tossed it aside.

His telepathic probes turned up a target.

Alistair launched a telepathic attack at a weak point in the shields of the North Operators.

Kevin sent waves of pure telekinesis down the hall, cracking the walls and buckling the floor beneath Alistair’s boots, but Alistair’s downloaded barrier simply absorbed the energy, and then offered it for reuse.

Alistair compressed the force down into a space perhaps the width of a meter, and then shaped it into something resembling a propeller. He spun it until it was an energetic blur and then sent it flying down the hall.

Kevin and Collette ducked.

Three of the North soldiers behind them weren’t so quick. One lost an arm. Two lost their heads.

Alistair hurled himself after the attack, as if he meant to leap over them. He stomped Kevin’s head into the floor instead, pulling a knife as he stepped over him.

Collette Higgins took an open stance, inviting him to make the first move.

Two of the men behind her took careful aim with their submachine guns.

Alistair grinned and stepped close to Collette, cutting off their shot.

She sprang at him, aiming for his throat with rigid fingers, and he dodged and feinted with his blade, then kicked her in the shin.

Collette leapt back at the last moment, and the kick only grazed her.

Taking a step to the right, she shifted her stance and feinted, forcing Alistair to circle the opposite way. She jabbed and threw leg kicks and checks, pushing him toward the wall and cutting off his angles.

She feinted toward his head, and then jumped back as he stepped away.

The gunmen saw their opportunity and opened fire.

They sprayed Collette and Kevin with bullets, while Alistair stood clear and laughed.

The Hegemony soldiers realized they had been deceived and stopped shooting, but the damage was done. Both Operators were left lying in the hallway, bleeding from multiple gunshot wounds.

Alistair took a step toward the gunmen and smiled as they opened fire.

He raised his hand as if to stop the bullets.

Shining Cloud.

The bullets were vaporized and the gunmen torn to pieces, rendered into a pile of unidentifiable body parts and liquid gore by microscopic blades.

Alistair checked on Kevin and Collette.

Both were alive, injured, and unhappy. Kevin had taken rounds in the right thigh and shoulder, while Collette had been grazed in the hand and shot through in the left foot.

“I went to a great deal of extra effort to make sure you survived,” Alistair said, kicking Collette viciously in the temple and knocking her unconscious. “Make sure you tell your daddy about that, okay? I want him to think carefully before he decides that he wants to get in my way next time.”

Alistair advanced on Kevin.

“I’ll kill you,” Kevin said, putting up his hands, though he could not stand. “Count on it.”

“Everyone says that,” Alistair said, smacking him in the head with a telekinetic bolt. “I’m frankly a little bored with hearing it.”

Kevin was dazed. Alistair hit him in the back of the neck, and he rolled to the ground and moaned.

“Close enough,” Alistair said, heading back for Gabriela. “What a waste of time.”

He froze when he heard the clatter of a gun being readied.

Six Hegemony soldiers were behind him, whole and intact, ready to fire.

Lucy Kent-Mehta stood beside him, a finger-gun pressed to his temple.

“I’m completely at a loss as to why you are here, Alistair,” she said pleasantly. “What on earth are you doing, raiding a North apport station?”

“Fucking hell, Lucy,” Alistair laughed. “You’ve gotten good since the Academy. I guess marrying into the Hegemony wasn’t a total waste. Mateo would be proud.”

“Thank you. You remain as impressive as you were in our school days.”

“How’s married life?”

“It suits me,” Lucy said, with a pert smile. “I enjoy being the Lady of a Great Family.”

“Yeah,” Alistair said. “I can see that. It’s been too long, you know. Nice to see you.”

“Likewise,” Lucy said. “I will regret killing you.”

“Not as much as I will. I’m amazed I couldn’t neutralize you.”

“A classic case of the specialist trumping the generalist. Do you wish to explain why you are doing the work of the Thule Cartel?”

“No,” Alistair said. “I don’t waste my time talking to dead people.”

“Such bravado!” Lucy said. “Nothing has changed in that regard, I see.”

The world inverted itself. Alistair dropped to his knees, so dizzy that he could hardly lift his head. His vision went briefly dark, and then was replaced by a disorienting barrage of irregular flashes of light, an atonal wailing filling his ears. His stomach turned and his chest tightened, his skin crawling with horrid, multi-legged things that bit and wriggled.

“If he moves from the floor, shoot him immediately,” Lucy said, her voice seeming to come from somewhere very distant. “I want a moment in his head.”

The illusionist was a specialized telepath, so her probe was clumsy and crude.

It hit Alistair like a brick to the side of the head. He sprawled out on the floor and vomited.

“That’s enough, don’t you think?” A younger female speaker suggested, her voice full of warm concern. “You don’t want to hurt him. He’s too valuable.”

Alistair’s vision returned somewhat, and he found himself lying on the floor, staring directly up Lucy’s surgically sculpted nose. She was nodding slowly, as if the speaker were gradually persuading her.

“He’s too valuable,” Lucy repeated thoughtfully. “Don’t shoot him.”

“That’s right! I knew you of all people would understand,” Gabriela said, limping to Lucy’s side, and then taking her hand. “You’re so important, aren’t you, Lady Mehta? You are far too important to be dealing with this sort of thing personally. Don’t you think?”

“Yes,” Lucy said. “I’m very important.”

“Lady Mehta, please, you need to get a hold of yourself,” one of the gunmen said, taking aim at Gabriela. “The Thule girl is manipulating you.”

“You should be quiet when other people are talking,” Gabriela said sharply. “You should all be ashamed of yourself, burdening someone as important and special as Lady Mehta with routine issues that you should be able to handle on your own. It’s shameful!”

“She’s right, you know,” Lucy said, gesturing impatiently. “I’m very busy. You can’t call me over every little thing. This sort of minor security issue should not require my personal intervention.”

“I’m sorry, ma’am,” the soldier said, sounding suspiciously like he was weeping behind his gas mask. “I’m just…I’m sorry. We blew it.”

The others agreed, in a chorus of murmured assents. The gunmen slumped and shrugged like scolded children.

“You should probably get going, Lady Mehta,” Gabriela suggested. “You have important business, and so many places you would rather be.”

“I’m done here,” Lucy growled, turning to leave. “Warm up the platform! I have appointments to keep.”

“Yes, they should warm up the platform,” Gabriela purred, catching Lucy’s shoulder in a gentle grasp. “But not for you. You should probably walk, don’t you think? It isn’t far to the next North installation, and you don’t want to wait for an apport.”

“I don’t?”

“You don’t,” Gabriela said. “You can’t! Don’t you remember? The whole installation has been compromised. Everyone there is a traitor for the Thule Cartel. You need to hurry! Only you can take care of this situation before it becomes critical.”

“I need to take care of it,” Lucy agreed. “It’s all on me.”

“You have to kill them all,” Gabriela said sadly, one hand on Lady Mehta’s shoulder. “I’m sorry you have to do that. I’m sorry you are burdened with so much responsibility, but that’s inevitable for someone as strong and important as you are.”

“I need to get moving,” Lucy said, her expression darkening. “This is a desperate situation.”

“Hurry now,” Gabriela said. “Everything depends on you!”

Lucy nodded and hurried for the stairs.

Gabriela sent her off with a little wave. Alistair picked himself off the ground, eyeing Gabriela with new respect as he stood beside her.

“As for you,” he said, glaring at the remaining soldiers. “Each of you knows that you are loyal to the North Cartel.”

The gunmen nodded.

“There are only two kinds of people in the world,” Alistair said. “Loyal soldiers, and contemptible traitors. You know that everyone else in your unit is a traitor. You’ve known it for some time, but you’ve kept it secret, so you could draw them out in the open, so that you could pick the perfect time to confront them.”

The soldiers shifted and regarded each other suspiciously, hands on their guns.

“That time has nearly arrived. You should go outside together, on what the rest believe to be a routine patrol. Don’t let them suspect anything. This is the opportunity you’ve been waiting for,” Gabriela said, walking among them and touching them on the shoulder, or the hand, as she passed. “You must kill them now, before they sabotage everything. You must kill them before they kill you. You have to do it, to save your own life.”

They nodded, giving each other suspicious looks as they headed for the stairs.

“You’ll be a hero,” Gabriela called after them. “Don’t forget that! You just have to kill them all, and then you’ll be a hero to the cartel. Henry North will probably give you a medal and a promotion! Just be brave and do what needs to be done!”

She gave them a pert little wave as they left, and then she smiled at Alistair bashfully, her hands clasped behind her back.

“You are a vicious little creature, aren’t you?” Alistair smiled at her. “I’m surprised you can act with such abandon. Most empaths would be scared to experience those sorts of negative emotions, even second hand.”

“Not me. I’m special, Mr. Alistair. Irrational,” Gabriela said proudly. “I don’t feel anyone else’s emotions unless I really, really try, and even then, it’s only a little better than a guess. No matter what I make anyone else feel, I feel just fine. One-way empathy, my uncle calls it.”

“You don’t say.” Alistair took a scarf from one of the bodies and used it to wipe his face. “Consider me intrigued, Gabby.”

“I prefer Gabriela, at least from you.”

“Not a problem, Gabby. Whatever you say.”

She smiled and cocked her head to the side, listening to something in the distance.

There was a confusion of gunshots, then silence, then a few more.

“Lucy works fast, doesn’t she?”

Gabriela nodded, then gave him a strange look, the color draining from her face. Alistair laughed, and then he caught her as she fainted, pulling the girl’s limp arm over his shoulder as he made for the apport station.

***

“If it is okay with you, Ana, I would like Gaul Thule to be my last job as an assassin,” Katya blurted out, eyes on the table in front of her. “I want to stay on as an Auditor and this troublesome boy’s guardian, please. Assuming Alex still wants to be an Auditor, I guess.”

“We should have cleared that up before we had this conversation,” Alex said. “I’m not sure myself.”

“We’ve been a little busy, haven’t we? I suppose it doesn’t make any difference,” Katya said. “Whatever he decides, working for the Far Shores or for Audits, I want to do that as well. At least until I’m sure he’s safe, or I find something better to do.”

“Are you certain?” Anastasia raised an eyebrow. “I’m surprised. I would have thought that you would want to avenge your brother.”

Katya winced.

“That’s not what Timor would have wanted,” Katya said, pushing her saucer around aimlessly. “The last time we spoke, he told me he wanted me to stay with the Auditors. I already took care of Gaul Thule, or at least I think I did, and…I really don’t know. I just don’t feel angry as much as sad, and tired.”

“You can be anything you like,” Anastasia said, putting her hand on Katya’s. “You do not have to leave my service to stop being an assassin. I will gladly retain you in any capacity you choose.”

“I don’t want to leave the Black Sun! I swore to serve you forever, and I still mean to do just that,” Katya said, gripping Anastasia’s hand. “You need an Auditor to represent your interests, Ana, whatever Alex chooses. And if he decides he’d prefer to work for Emily Muir, putting his supposedly important relationship in near constant peril...”

“Hey! Could we not talk about that right now?”

“You will want the Black Sun represented there as well,” Katya said. “I’m more valuable to you as an Auditor than an assassin.”

“That is very likely accurate,” Anastasia said. “I would like to hear the truth of your motivations, however.”

“You know why,” Katya said, looking away. “You know.”

“I’d like to hear it from you, please.”

To Alex’s shock, Katya pointed at him with her outstretched arm, still staring at Anastasia.

“He is the reason,” Katya said softly. “I lost Layla, and now I’ve lost Timor. He’s it, isn’t he? Alex is all that I have left. I’ve always had…Timor was always there. I’m not ready to be alone in the world.”

“Katya…” Alex took a step forward. “I…”

“You are not alone at all,” Anastasia said tenderly. “You still have me.”

“I don’t have you, though,” Katya said, shaking her head. “I love you, Ana, but you aren’t mine. You belong to the Black Sun. Alex, though…he lost everyone. Just like me. He’s my cousin, and he finds trouble like you wouldn’t believe. In just the last few months he’s managed to make a personal enemy out of Alistair and started a relationship with the weirdest girl in the world. He’s an entitled dummy. I can’t leave him to his own devices.”

“You don’t have to put it like that,” Alex objected. “I was about to be grateful.”

“You should be grateful,” Katya said. “I’m throwing away the best years of my life looking after you. Appreciate it.”

“I do. I appreciate it! I swear. It’s just…”

“I think that you are correct on all counts, Katya,” Anastasia observed, removing her veil. As soon as she put it aside, the servant in the black dress started to work on her hair, removing jade combs from the nest of silken black locks. “It is transparently obvious that Alex would not last a day without your oversight and supervision.”

“It’s exhausting, frankly,” Katya said. “Looking after him is a full-time job.”

“I’m standing right here, you guys,” Alex complained. “This is terrible for my ego.”

“I will allow you to stay with him, of course,” Anastasia said. “I will allow you to do anything you wish to, Katya. Please do not forget that. I have never intended to restrict or bind you. I expect the two of you to find something useful to do, however.”

“Thank you, Ana,” Katya said, bobbing her head. “I won’t let you down.”

“Yeah, thanks,” Alex muttered. “Or something.”

“I believe that more than thanks are in order, actually. This is not the first favor I have done for you, but it is certainly the greatest,” Anastasia said, turning her icy gaze on Alex. “You are depriving me of my valued servant and friend, Alexander Warner nee Rostov. I believe that you owe me something of equivalent value to her service.”

“I already told you, Ana,” Katya pleaded. “I’m with you forever. This changes nothing.”

“I owe Katya, so if I can help, I will. I’m not sure she owes you anything for this, but I’ll hear you out, at least,” Alex said, barely able to meet Anastasia’s eyes. “What do you want from me?”

“You’ve actually learned something from your reckless adventures, haven’t you? I’m touched you’ve developed such feelings for Katya,” Anastasia said, with apparent honesty. “I never could have anticipated such a thing,” she asserted, more dubiously, in his eyes. “You’re not such a dull boy these days, are you?”

“I’m trying,” Alex said. “That’s all.”

“Then you can still do better,” Anastasia said. “Are you ready to hear my request?”

“It’s a request, now? I thought I owed you something.”

“We have a complicated past, and those complications shadow our present,” Anastasia admitted. “Is it a surprise that precisely defining our relationship would be difficult?”

“It’s not that uncertain,” Alex said, shaking his head. “You’re supposed to be my cousin, right? And you’re in charge of the Black Sun, which is big and scary. I’m an Auditor, or I used to be one. That’s pretty much it. I don’t think you are a queen or goddess like everyone else, and I’m not about to start bowing and scraping every time you talk to me.”

Mai Quan covered her mouth, abandoning a comb in a partially disassembled braid. Anastasia hid her expression behind her fan.

“What are you doing?” Katya pulled at his arm. “Ana, please don’t take him seriously! I told you he was dumb.”

“Are you quite finished?” Anastasia moved her fan aside to reveal a placid expression, but Alex was troubled by her tone, and the nagging suspicion that she had just been laughing. “This is a serious matter, I’m afraid, and it must be resolved. You understand that you are, and have always been, Alexandroff Rostov of the Rostov Cartel? You accept that you are the sole survivor of what was once a Great Family, among the elite of the Black Sun?”

“I’ve been told that, but so what?” Alex rubbed his temples. “It’s not like it’s real to me. I don’t remember any of that, and I sure don’t care about it.”

“You accept the truth of it, though?”

“Yeah. I suppose I do.”

“Very well. You must tell me, then,” Anastasia said. “Do you resent the extinguishing of your cartel and your family, now that you’ve been made aware of it? Do you harbor a grudge against me, or against the Martynova Family, for their deaths?”

“Why would I?” Alex replied. “I don’t remember it.”

“Don’t be flippant,” Anastasia said. “Your entire family was slaughtered in a single night.”

“I don’t remember any such family,” Alex said. “What difference does it make to me?”

“Memory is not the sum of human experience,” Anastasia said sternly. “You must feel some way about the unfortunate affair.”

“I feel like this has more to do with your dad than it does anything else,” Alex said. “I’m not mad about it, okay? I don’t care who you killed. I mean, okay, it makes me a little nervous to be around you, knowing that’s the sort of shit you got up to when you were, what, eight? Nine? That’s intense. Killing off entire cartels just because? Crazy shit. That’s all I’ve got to say about it, though. I’m not crying over people I don’t remember.”

Anastasia stepped closer and gave him a curious look.

“Are those your true feelings, or is this all the result of Eerie’s manipulations?” Anastasia wondered. “I know she encouraged a certain amount of passivity in you, even indifference, but this seems a bit much.”

“It seems about right to me,” Alex said. “Do you want me to be mad?”

“I certainly do. That is it exactly,” Anastasia said calmly. “You realize the light your attitude casts on my own current state of mourning? I lost my father, my brother, and my cousin, Alex, and I plunged the world into war without question. You lost your entire family, your name and your title, even your memory and identity, but you are unmoved. Are you trying to embarrass me?”

“That isn’t it at all! I do think you could make better life choices, if killing lots of people is a standard solution for all your problems, but losing your father and brother? That’s awful. I don’t know what I would do if that happened to me.”

“That’s the crux of the issue, isn’t it? That did happen to you, Alex.”

“Maybe, but that isn’t real to me. You all say it happened, so I guess it’s true, but…I mean, I do remember what you looked like when you were just a bossy little kid.” Mai frowned, her hands occupied with Anastasia’s hair, the line of her mouth stiffening. Katya locked eyes with Mai, shaking her head slightly. “If I feel sad about it at all,” Alex continued blithely, “it’s like grieving over characters in a movie. It’s a grim story, but I don’t remember any of it. I hardly remember the stuff that I know happened to me! My whole past was a lie, so why should I feel any different about this stuff? The bits and pieces I do remember feel like a dream. Even if everything you say is true, it’s not a big thing to me. It just doesn’t matter.”

“If you say you do not care, who am I to argue? Particularly when I understand so little of what you just said,” Anastasia said, her fan fluttering in front of the lower half of her face. “For my part, I bore the Rostov Cartel no personal animosity, and I have long regretted the necessity of their cessation.”

“Wow, Anastasia,” Alex said. “I had just started to forget how scary you can be, and then you go and…”

“I’ve never been satisfied with the resolution to the Rostov question,” Anastasia said, giving Alex a look that made him shiver. “My father chose to extinguish not only the family, but the cartel, absorbing their estates and assets into the Martynova family holdings. This was largely acceptable when it came to trade interests and territories abroad, but the seizure of the Rostov ancestral manor, and the termination of the associated Lordship went beyond the pale, in my opinion, and in the shared opinion of the other Great Families. My father wished to send a message, but he overlooked nuance in favor of blunt passion, and created a problem that I have inherited.”

“If I’m supposed to understand any of this, then…”

“I think the balance between us might not have been settled satisfactorily, cousin,” Anastasia said. “It goes without saying that debts must be paid, and all potential hinderances resolved. Fortunately, I have devised a solution that should rectify the issue.”

“Could you please just tell me what it is that you want from me?”

“I feel that my family wronged your family, regardless of extenuating circumstances. The Rostov Family had to be put in their place, but terminating the Lordship and the estate was a grave error, one that unsettled the Great Families of the Black Sun.” Anastasia frowned as Mai tugged at her hair. “I mean to correct that, and in doing so, send a message to the remaining Great Families. My vengeance in the name of my father will remind them to fear me, but at the same time, I wish to foster a sense of trust and mutual respect within the Black Sun. I plan to use the Rostov Cartel for that particular end.”

“This has to be a joke. You’re not really going to do this, are you?” Katya pointed at Alex. “He’s barely capable of following a conversation.”

“I think it only right,” Anastasia said. “And why not?”

“Why not what?” Alex gave them both pleading looks in turn. “What are you talking about?”

“There must be a Lord and a Lady Rostov at their ancestral seat. A restoration of that continuity will reassure the remainder of the Great Families of their own persistence, even in the worst circumstances, while demonstrating the Martynova family’s commitment to tradition.” Anastasia smiled wanly. “Since I have you here, cousin, an actual lineal descendent of the supposedly extinct family, why not take advantage of that circumstance? We have already established that you are indebted to me, personally, for my protection, and for the services of my assassin. I owe you, perhaps, for the affair you have forgotten. Why not settle both accounts with one grand bargain?”

“Oh, God,” Katya moaned, covering her eyes. “I can’t watch.”

“With all that in mind, shall we make it official?” Anastasia tapped Alex on the nose with the tip of her fan. “Consider yourself from this moment Lord Rostov, the head of a Great Family and a Lord of the Black Sun, with all the traditional prerogatives and estates that come with that illustrious title. If you ask very nicely, your cousin Katya might even acquiesce to becoming your steward. I am quite certain that you will need the help.”

Alex’s jaw dropped. Katya muttered under her breath.

“That’s…that’s not so bad, right?” Alex turned to Katya hopefully. “I mean, being a Lord or whatever, that could be, like, not bad?”

“Alex, you idiot,” Katya said, glaring at him. “Don’t you get it? She just made you a member of the Black Sun.”

Alex’s mouth hung open as he gave Anastasia a horrified look.

“I would have thought that would be obvious,” Anastasia said smugly. “Allow me to be the first to congratulate you on finally choosing a cartel. I told you some time ago that it was a foregone conclusion, but I’m happy that you have finally acknowledged it. In your own time, as I have come to expect.”

“Hey, look,” Alex said, wild-eyed and desperate. “I didn’t agree to anything yet, okay? I mean, I’m willing to do you a favor or something, but…”

“It is fortuitous, then, that I do not require anything more onerous of you. I have restored your title and returned your estates, and I have allowed my friend and servant to look after you and your interests,” Anastasia said. “For all that, I have asked nothing in return, save for the standard pledges of loyalty that come with the title. That is a bargain by any standard.”

“I can’t join the Black Sun!” Alex shouted. “I’m an Auditor, for God’s sake.”

“Trainee,” Katya amended. “Assuming they haven’t kicked us out.”

“Right, but still…”

“Katya is an Auditor and a member of the Black Sun in good standing,” Anastasia said, hiding a yawn with her fan. “I am certain we can resolve any minor issues that might arise as a result of your new allegiance, should you choose to remain with the Auditors. I am equally certain that Emily Muir would be amenable to the new arrangement, if you would prefer.”

“Oh, God,” Alex said miserably. “I’m fucked, aren’t I?”

“Yeah,” Katya said, patting him on the back. “Now you’re getting it.”

Seventeen

Day Three

Emily smiled at him as she opened her door, but the smile faded when she saw the state of him.

“Jesus. What could have possibly happened in the time it took me to shower?”

“Anastasia fucking happened,” Alex said, rubbing his eyes. “That’s what.”

“You had better come in,” Emily said, pulling him inside her hotel room. “We have a few minutes before the apport. What did she do?”

Emily led him to the couch, and then sat down close beside him, her thigh resting against his.

“She knighted me or something, I think,” Alex said miserably. “Is Rostov, like, a place? Do you know? Because I think I own it now.”

“Oh dear,” Emily said, covering her mouth. “She’s made you Lord Rostov? You are…you are the Lord of a Great Family?”

“I guess so. How great can they really be? I mean, they are all dead, right?”

“What a fascinating development,” Emily said, looking a bit dazed. “I very much did not see that coming.”

“You aren’t the only one,” Alex said miserably, putting his face in his hands. “Do you think I’ll have to pay taxes? Do I have fields and serfs now? I mean, I think it’s in Russia, right?”

“The ancestral seat of the Rostov Family is in the Ukraine, I believe.”

“Same difference.”

“Not to the Ukrainians.”

“The Black Sun is like the fucking mob,” Alex wailed, putting his head in Emily’s lap. “I’ve joined the mob, Emily. I’m doomed.”

“There, there,” Emily said, stroking his head. “This will be fine. We will figure it out together. Look at the bright side. Maybe Anastasia will still let you marry Eerie. Eerie might be excited to be a Lady of a Great Family!”

“Eerie and I haven’t even gone on a real date yet, we aren’t getting…wait a minute,” Alex said, sitting up. “What did you just say?”

“You must realize that, along with those fields and serfs you mentioned, being the Lord of a Great Family comes with certain responsibilities, among them an obligation to get the approval from the head of the cartel to marry, divorce, or commit suicide. It’s mostly a formality, because most marriages in the Hegemony and the Black Sun are arranged at childhood. In your case…”

“I don’t know anything about getting married,” Alex said. “But I know Anastasia is not going to tell me what to do.”

“She will, of course,” Emily said. “If you stay in Central, you’ll have no choice.”

“What do you mean? I’ll just refuse,” Alex said, shrugging. “Anastasia doesn’t really seem to get mad about little stuff, you know? It’ll be fine.”

“She doesn’t get mad about little stuff, but she’s deadly serious about tradition. You either fall in line, or she’ll make you fall into line.”

“She can try,” Alex said. “I’m not so easy to push around these days.”

“Don’t joke. Anastasia is way out of your league.”

“I’m an Auditor! She wouldn’t—”

“She certainly would. Are you sure you’re still an Auditor?”

“I think…I don’t know. This is so bad.”

“The Auditors won’t protect you from Anastasia, and Eerie can’t, though I’m sure she would try,” Emily said. “The Black Sun is simply too powerful to oppose. It’s not as if Anastasia is hurting you, or attacking you in some way, so that you could demand restitution, or protection. She’s being generous, actually.”

“You’re right!” Alex said, burying his face in his hands. “I’m completely screwed!”

“Not completely,” Emily corrected, patting him on the back. “You still have one other option.”

“I do?” Alex peered out from behind his hands. “What do you mean?”

“I could intervene on your behalf,” Emily said, with a fond smile. “I could give you exile at the Far Shores. I don’t have that authority quite yet, but I assure you that the Director will recognize the strength of my position at the Far Shores just as soon as we have a chance to chat. It isn’t as if Anastasia plans to enforce her claim on your fealty until after this conflict is over.”

“Exile at the Far Shores? What are you even talking about?”

“Anastasia can’t just claim you, or she would have done it a long time ago. She’s made you an offer, and you have every right to reject it. That rejection would be a mortal insult to Anastasia, however, and she’d practically have to kill you for it. The easy way out of that conundrum is to have already sworn fealty to another cartel before she finds the opportunity to demand your loyalty publicly. How fortunate it is, then, that the Muir Cartel is presently recruiting. Anastasia won’t like it, of course, but I have the means to mollify her.”

“You want me to work for you?”

“Why not? You’ve done a capable job so far, and I think we have excellent rapport.”

“That isn’t it, though, is it?” Alex gave her a suspicious look. “You don’t want to work together. You want me to serve you.”

“I have no intention of acting the Great Lady, or compelling you to do anything. Alex, please calm down and listen to me. You know me, don’t you?” Emily looked him in the eyes. “I think we’ve gotten to know each other pretty well. Have I ever made you do anything? Aside from holding me, I suppose,” Emily added, giggling. “I hope you didn’t mind terribly.”

Alex blushed and wrung his hands.

“You just watched me recruit Mitsuru Aoki. Did you witness anything sinister? Did I do anything to invite your suspicions?”

Alex shook his head.

“Ask Leigh, if you want, or Vivik. Ask anyone who works for me. I would be happy to be your boss, but I have no desire to be your master.”

“Even if I wanted to work for you, it’s more complicated than that. I agreed to take responsibility for Katya’s debt, so she could be free of Anastasia’s service. She wants to be an Auditor, and…”

“I’m certain that she just wants to look after you,” Emily said, touching his knee. “You are such an impulsive boy! Why would you make such a grandiose offer, when you have no means to pay?”

“I dunno. I think Katya’s pissed off about it, too, but I was just trying to help. I mean, she’s done a lot for me. I felt like I owed her that much.”

“I’m pleased that you were worried about Katya. You are most certainly in her debt, and I’m not sure that you would have even noticed that a year ago. That’s commendable progress! I do wish you had been a little less quick to play the hero, though. I approve of your altruism, but it would be better if you thought things through a bit more. You can’t volunteer to pay a debt when you are broke, no matter how good the cause.”

“I know it. I blew it. Like I said, even Katya’s upset with me.”

“I’m sure she’s just frustrated, because she’s trying to protect you, and you’ve imperiled yourself for her benefit. That’s the sort of behavior that might make your girlfriend swoon, but I’m afraid Katya takes a more pragmatic view.”

“I get it. I do.”

“Cheer up! This is a conversation I’ve been meaning to have with you, in any case. If we all survive the next few days, you’ll be receiving several offers of this sort. I know that you’re quite used to being in high demand, but I’m afraid the time for wavering has passed. Whoever is left standing will want you, Alex, and they won’t wait long for their answer. I had to make a pitch before Ms. Gallow or Anastasia forced this issue.”

“I hate Central,” Alex said. “Everything turns political here.”

“Everything is political everywhere. We’re just more open about it in Central.”

“I didn’t think of you like that. I’m not sure what I thought of us, honestly, but I didn’t think it would be…”

“You don’t have to be so negative! There are any number of advantages to cooperating with me, rather than continuing to be an Auditor, or entering the service of one cartel or another. The issue of Eerie, for example.”

Alex’s expression darkened.

“What does Eerie have to do with this?”

“Whatever you decide to do next, Eerie will have to make the same decision if the two of you wish to remain together. You need to understand that no cartel will accept your relationship if she remains an unknown commodity, or chooses another allegiance entirely,” Emily explained gently. “Some may not be willing to accept her at all.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Alex said. “Why?”

“I really think that only you would ask that question,” Emily said, grinning at him. “Eerie is not human, she has strange abilities she cannot fully control, and she rarely makes any kind of sense. I do believe that you are one of the only people in Central who doesn’t find any of that to be problematic.”

“That’s wrong! That’s, uh, I’m not sure how to say it. How do you say racist, but against another…uh, whatever the Fey are.”

“You could say ‘speciest’,” Emily said. “I prefer xenophobic, however.”

“Okay. That.”

“I don’t think that’s the whole issue, but there’s certainly a retrograde slant to their opinions. That doesn’t change anything in terms of the difficulties she would face. Even if a cartel accepts her, they will expect her to do something productive for them. Administration will expect the same from her, should you remain an Auditor. There are no free rides in Central, I’m afraid.”

“What would they want her to do?”

“I’ve witnessed the sort of thing she’s capable of. She can tamper with reality, you know. I think that most cartels would be interested in that. Then there’s her unique biology to consider. Her ability to heal or poison could be exploited, or studied, or both.”

“I don’t think Eerie would want to do any of that,” Alex said. “For anyone.”

“If Eerie were to decide to stay with me at the Far Shores, she would be free to do whatever she wanted. I plan to tell her as much at the first opportunity. What do you think she will say?”

“I think we need to talk about…”

“I don’t need your permission to ask your girlfriend anything. You don’t make decisions for her, and your relationship does not take precedence over ours,” Emily scoffed. “Eerie and I have known each other longer than you, and we are in the same club.”

“I didn’t mean it like that. Dammit. You know I didn’t.”

“I’m tired of giving you the benefit of the doubt,” Emily said. “You need to be more thoughtful, of your words and your actions. Please, for your own good, as well as mine.”

Alex nodded.

“I just want you to think about it, before you talk with Eerie. The two of you would be free to be together, at the Far Shores,” Emily said. “You’d have to help out, obviously, because everyone has to pull their own weight, but I’ve an open mind about how that could happen. Maybe you would prefer a future that involved doing something other than killing people?”

“What about Katya?”

“There is more than one way to move forward,” Emily said. “Maybe she would also prefer a future without murder? I could make that happen.”

His chance to reply was cut off by a knock at the door, and an apologetic servant who explained that their transportation was arranged, and that they were all to meet in a ballroom downstairs in a few minutes.

“I suppose we should get moving,” Emily said, gathering her things. “We don’t want to miss out on what happens next, I’m sure.”

“Yeah, I guess,” Alex said, following her out to the hall. “That was…that was a whole lot to take in. Can I have some time to think about it?”

“I think you’ll agree that I am extremely patient,” Emily said. “The question is how much patience you can expect from everyone else.”

***

“Everything is ready,” Adel said, wheezing slightly as he hurried into the room. “I double checked.”

“Okay,” Eerie said, not bothering to remove her headphones. “I’m starting, then.”

“I want to apologize again,” Adel said, smiling desperately at the back of her head. “I feel really bad about everything. I never meant to upset you.”

“Don’t worry,” Eerie said, keying in a command. “I’m used to it.”

“I still feel bad. I’m really sorry. Are you still angry at me?”

“I’m not angry,” Eerie said calmly, her eyes closed and her fingers hovering over the keyboard. “I’m just tired, and I thought better of you,” she said, resuming her work. “I thought you were cooler than that, Adel. That’s all.”

“No, come on, please…you have to let me…”

“I need to concentrate,” Eerie said. “Please?”

“Right, sure,” Adel muttered. “Of course.”

***

Emily seemed impressed by the technology at work on one side of the ballroom, hurrying to chat with the technicians as they tested the temporary apport station, but Alex was too caught up in his own thoughts to follow her.

He never even saw it coming.

Alice Gallow put her arm around his shoulders. She took a tight hold; any more pressure and it would have been a side headlock.

“Alex! I haven’t seen you in a long time, kid. How have you been?”

“Ah, Ms. Gallow! I’m, uh, I’m good. Listen…”

“The last time I saw you, let’s see,” Alice said. “Oh, yeah! You were being dragged off to the Outer Dark. I guess you’re back now. How was it?”

“What?”

“How was the Outer Dark, Alex?” Alice grinned at him. “Did you have a good time?”

“I had a bad time,” Alex mumbled. “Really bad.”

“What a drag. Did they turn you?”

“Turn? What do…oh! No, I mean, no. That’s not…”

“So, you aren’t Anathema?”

“N-no way! Not at all. I mean, I think maybe I’m a little bit vampire now, or something, because my eye is all fucked up, and my fingers…”

He trailed off when he noticed the way Alice was nodding at him.

“Anyway, it’s not like that,” he finished lamely. “I’m still just me.”

“That’s a little hard to believe when you show up at Emily Muir’s heel.”

“Oh. Yeah. That’s really hard to explain.”

“Find a way to explain it,” Alice commanded. “Right now.”

“Emily is way smarter than me,” Alex blurted out. “I haven’t slept in a long time, Ms. Gallow, and a lot has happened, and it’s been really hard to keep up.”

She squeezed his neck until the hold became very uncomfortable.

Then she relented and laughed.

“You are the strangest kid,” Alice said fondly. “Are you really gonna make me beat the shit of you, right here? Because I absolutely will do that.”

“I’d really prefer if you didn’t,” Alex said, trying vainly to escape her grasp. “I’ve got a really good explanation for everything.”

“I’m dying to hear it.”

“Please let him go,” Katya said. “I can explain everything, Ms. Gallow.”

“That’s not necessary,” Alice said, turning to face Katya, Alex still hooked beneath her arm. “Alex was just about to explain himself.”

“Let me do it,” Katya said. “To start with, I should probably apologize for…”

“Deserting?” Alice asked, grinning. “That’s what you did, Katya. You deserted.”

“There were extenuating circumstances.”

“I never wanted you,” Alice said. “A Black Sun assassin as an Auditor? The whole thing was ridiculous. You’re a concession to politics. I never thought you were cut out to be an Auditor.”

“That makes of two of us,” Katya said. “This wasn’t my idea.”

“Mine either,” Alice said. “You were useless from day one – the fuck do I need with an Operator who can only kill? – but that wasn’t the worst of it. I figured that if nothing else, as a combat veteran, I could count on you to look after the kids in the field until they learned the ropes. I thought you’d make yourself useful in some way, if only to pass the damn time. You decided to be a problem instead, a pain in my ass.”

“Just hear me out. We still want to be Auditors, Ms. Gallow. Well, I still do, and I think Alex does. He might. If you don’t choke him.”

“I don’t believe it,” Alice said. “You actually still want to be an Auditor?”

“Probably. If Alex does, then I do, too.”

“That’s news to me.”

“It was a very recent decision,” Katya explained. “It’s been crazy.”

“Why do you think I would want you?” Alice asked. “What possible use do you think that you have?”

“I kill people, Ms. Gallow, same as you,” Katya said tiredly. “We’re basically the same, when you think about it.”

“Is that so?” Alice’s eyes and smile both widened proportionately. “You’ll have to elaborate on that.”

“We are both broken apport technicians. We are meant to move things from place to place, Ms. Gallow, but that isn’t what we do. We don’t do transportation, we kill people.”

“Speak for yourself. The Auditors would never get anywhere if I didn’t move them around.”

“But that isn’t what you do. That’s a sideline at best, and a costly one. We all know that you lose your memory every time you do it,” Katya said, standing almost toe to toe with the Chief Auditor. “That’s why Chike is an Auditor, so he can handle all the mundane transportation. I can’t move anything big or far, and you can’t move things regularly, or you’ll forget who you are.”

“You need to be careful,” Alice said cheerfully. “You aren’t in a position to be delivering criticism.”

“I’m not, I’m trying to explain.”

“You haven’t explained a thing. Why did you run off in the first place?”

“I had to save Alex,” Katya said, with a downcast look. “I had to at least try.”

“Why you, though? And why right that moment? We would have gone after him. We don’t just abandon Auditors in the field.”

“Save the propaganda,” Katya said. “I know what happened to Ms. Aoki. I had no assurance that you meant to do anything about Alex.”

“Why is this boy so important to you?” Alice asked, jerking Alex about by his neck.

“I don’t really know myself. I was very good friends with his sister, I guess.”

“He has a sister?”

“He did a long time ago,” Katya confirmed. “It’s very complicated.”

“I thought he killed his family in a fire,” Alice said doubtfully. “Isn’t that…?”

“No, that was all fake,” Katya said. “He just thinks – thought – that it happened.”

“His family is still alive, then?”

“No, they’re all dead. Killed off in a Black Sun purge.”

“Black Sun?” Alice’s expression soured. “Are you telling me that Alex is also part of your cartel?”

“Technically, yes,” Katya said, rubbing her temples. “He’s clueless, though.”

“So, Alex was born into the Black Sun,” Alice said. “But he’s not really a part of it. Do I have that right?”

“I think that may have changed recently, and some of that is my fault,” Katya admitted. “I told you it was complicated.”

“Are you really trying to convince me to have you back?” Alice asked. “All you’ve done so far is maybe persuade me to get rid of Alex, too. I was just angry before, but now I’m angry and confused.”

“Me too,” Katya said. “It is what it is.”

“On the list of dumb things people say, that’s got to be right up at the top,” Alice complained. “Do you have anything to say that might actually persuade me to take you back?”

“I guess I could try,” Katya said. “Let’s see. You’ve got a handful of Auditors left, most of them are rookies,” Katya said, ticking each point off with her fingers. “You said all I can do is kill people, but look around you, Ms. Gallow. Don’t you think a lot of people are going to need killing?”

“That’s a better argument.”

“I understand what no one else in your crew of Auditors understands,” Katya said, lowering her voice. “I know that sometimes innocent people have to die, and I can handle that. I’m sure that you can have any of your Auditors take their best shot at some Weir, but what happens when you need to deal with someone more sympathetic? You know as well as I do that this job isn’t all killing monsters.”

Alice grinned and clapped Katya on the shoulder.

“I always liked you, you know,” Alice said approvingly. “Right from the start.”

“I thought you always hated me. You told me you hated assassins, when I first showed up,” Katya said. “Just now you told me you never wanted me at all!”

“All of that is also true,” Alice said. “Those feelings are not mutually exclusive.”

“Ms. Gallow, you can strangle Alex if you want to, I don’t particularly care,” Hayley said, rushing over. “But you should probably know that I helped, too, just a little. I sent Derrida along with Katya, when she went after Alex, just to watch out, and…well, you know.”

Alice looked around in disbelief.

“Well, great! That’s just great to hear! Is there anything else?” Alice gave them a crazed smile. “Anyone else wanna fess up? Min-jun, you secretly aiding any shadowy organizations? You a fucking traitor, Grigori?”

“Not at all,” Grigori said, looking offended. “I live up to my obligations.”

“No, Ms. Gallow,” Min-jun said, keeping his distance. “You frighten me.”

“They make perfect sense!” Alice cried out, squeezing her arm tight around Alex’s neck. “Which makes me wonder what the hell is wrong with the three of you.”

“There’s no conspiracy, Ms. Gallow,” Katya assured her. “I wasn’t working for the Black Sun when I left, and Alex isn’t conspiring with the Anathema. It’s just that I joined this club, you see, and we…”

“Holy shit! What the hell is wrong with you? Who the fuck ran the Program when you kids went through it?”

“Ah, that would have been Ms. Aoki,” Katya admitted. “And also you.”

“I clearly did a shit job,” Alice declared. “You are all officially the worst Auditors ever.”

“We’re still Auditors, though?” Katya asked hopefully.

“I suppose,” Alice said. “I can’t really punish you if I’m not your boss, right?”

“That’s sort of good!” Katya said. “Will you let Alex go now?”

“Why not?” Alice dropped Alex to the floor, to gasp and rub his neck resentfully. “Since we’ve all decided to face up to our jobs and our responsibilities, right?”

“Actually, I was thinking,” Alex wheezed. “I might not want to…”

Katya kicked Alex.

“Like you said, Ms. Gallow,” Katya said. “We’re all ready to move on.”

“I’m not,” Alice said, grinning. “I want an explanation for all of this.”

“If you are all quite ready?” Anastasia glared. “It is nearly time for us all to be going.”

“This is not done,” Alice said. “We are going to continue this conversation back in Central.”

Katya nodded as she walked away, then helped Alex up.

“Well, that’s it,” Alex said. “We’re screwed.”

“Not necessarily,” Katya said. “We could get lucky. It’s Alice Gallow, remember? She might forget all about it.”

***

“If I could have just the briefest interval of your time before the apport, Lady Martynova,” Emily suggested, stepping deftly around Mai when the maid tried to intercept her. “I’m sure that you’d find it worth your while.”

Anastasia considered, eyeing the confrontation between Alex and Alice Gallow warily.

“I don’t see why not,” Anastasia said. “We have a few minutes.”

“Excellent! Why don’t you just send away the maids, and the vampires, and all the other hangers-on – no offense intended,” she said, giving Mai a pert smile. “This is not for everyone’s ears.”

Mai looked at Anastasia questioningly, and then left without a word, Lord Gao following her.

“It must be so much fun to be rich and powerful,” Emily said. “I envy you, Anastasia. I really do.”

“Are we still on a first name basis?” Anastasia considered it. “I’m pleased, if a bit surprised.”

“I don’t think you’ll like what I have to say all that much, but I don’t see any reason to be rude,” Emily said. “We’ve always gotten along, haven’t we?”

“I suppose that we have, though not everyone might look at it quite that way.”

“We have had our issues, haven’t we? I’m not talking about Alex, or any of that nonsense, obviously.” Emily leaned close, speaking in confidence. “I’m talking about my sister. Therese Muir. I’m certain you remember her.”

“Aha. I was expecting that this might come up.”

“Did you truly expect it? How thoughtful of you to consider my feelings! I wonder if you’ve become more empathetic, Anastasia. As a result of your recent experience with losing family, I mean. My condolences, by the way.”

“Thank you. I would offer my own to you as well, no matter how belated. I sincerely regret what happened with your sister. Therese attacked me, and I was left with few options,” Anastasia said. “She was extraordinarily dangerous.”

“To some, perhaps,” Emily said. “She was no danger to you.”

“I had no choice but to defend myself.”

“And in doing so, you revealed your protocol to a rogue intelligence agent,” Emily said. “You had to kill her to protect your secret. Who would give up such an advantage in a trivial encounter, after all the work you went through to conceal it? I quite understand your position. That doesn’t change my feelings on the matter.”

“I did not expect that it would,” Anastasia said stiffly. “I just thought that you should know there was no animosity on my part.”

“How very thoughtful of you, Anastasia,” Emily replied. “It’s nice to know that you hold me in such regard.”

“We have no time for games,” Anastasia said. “What do you want from me, Miss Muir?”

“Are we no longer on a first-name basis? Oh dear!” Emily laughed. “How quickly things fall apart. I have no intention of playing with you at all. I simply wanted you to know that I will have my revenge for the murder of my sister, Lady Martynova, whom I loved very much, and who did not deserve to die.”

“I’m sorry for your loss, and saddened by my role in it,” Anastasia said, tapping her umbrella against the floor. “That is all that I can offer.”

“Is it? Well, that’s nothing to worry over. I’ll take what I want.”

“If you want to fight, then I suggest you pick a different opponent.” Anastasia glared at Emily. “One more appropriate to your class and station.”

“Oh, please. I’m quite capable of handling you, or anyone else. I was not calling you out, here and now. My revenge will be elegant and cruel, just like you,” Emily proclaimed. “I just wanted you to know what is coming.”

“You seem to be taking this personally,” Anastasia observed. “That would be a mistake, Miss Muir.”

“Oh, but it is personal. You see, it is embarrassing to admit, but I really thought that we might become friends, Lady Martynova.” Emily glanced over at the increasingly heated encounter between Alice and Alex with a mixture of annoyance and apprehension. “Therese was my only sister, and the only person to try and protect me. If justice is impossible, then I think I still owe her some measure of vengeance.”

Emily gestured at Anastasia’s veil and somber outfit and smiled.

“I’d think that you of all people could understand that,” Emily said, turning to leave. “Given your circumstances.”

“I do understand,” Anastasia said, halting Emily mid-step. “I respect your position, Miss Muir, and your course of action, even if I wish you would decide differently. I also considered the possibility of a friendship, during our stay at Ha Long Bay.”

“That’s nice to hear,” Emily said, her back to Anastasia. “I’ve timed my plans carefully, Anastasia. You’ll just have time to settle affairs with the Thule Cartel before it all comes crashing down, as long as you’re expeditious about it.”

Emily curtseyed, and then hurried over to save Alex from Alice Gallow.

Anastasia watched her go with a look of bemusement.

“Katya seems close to her,” Mai observed, standing just behind Anastasia. “I can give her the signal now, if you like.”

Anastasia considered it.

All around them, the technicians scrambled, forcing the fixed apport mechanism through its warm-up cycle via painstaking manual activations. The Auditors and Emily’s group continued to scuffle and argue, while Black Sun personnel watched judgmentally.

“Not yet. I need to understand her intentions,” Anastasia said. “Emily Muir is far too smart to make an unnecessary enemy, and I’ve never known her to make threats.”

“Then what just happened, Mistress?”

“I’m sure that I don’t know,” Anastasia said. “Would you do something about that, Mai? She’s a capable telepath, these days, but I hope that you can manage something.”

Mai nodded.

“I put this in your hands, then,” Anastasia said, glancing at the apport station. “We will be departing shortly, I think. Have you completed your preparations, Lord Gao?”

“Yes, Mistress,” Lord Gao said, calm and smiling, standing entirely at ease. “On your command.”

“Consider it given, then, Lord Gao,” Anastasia said. “Take your opportunities where you find them.”

“All the targets, then, milady?”

The hesitation was very slight, but Mai noticed it anyway, out of long familiarity with Anastasia’s moods and foibles.

“Yes,” Anastasia said. “We will leave nothing to chance.”

***

Katya noticed her before she took three steps, but she stood right where she was, her back to Mai as the maid skirted the Auditors. Katya willed herself to be loose and relaxed, drawing on years of training and a favorite breathing exercise.

The frightening thing about Mai Quan was nearly everything.

Mai had been Anastasia’s personal attendant since Ana was an infant, adding the title of Head Maid for the household when Ana was five or six. Katya had spent hours and days with her, running errands and solving problems, and had tended to Anastasia beside her. Despite that, Katya felt zero familiarity with the woman.

After more than a decade of association, Katya barely knew anything about Mai.

What she did know came from Timor, and his habitual snooping on any potential threat to his Mistress’s well-being.

He had discovered that Mai was an orphan adopted into the Black Sun by the Gao Family when she was six. She was discovered during a Black Sun sponsored tuberculous inoculation clinic in remote Vietnam. The Gao Family had raised her as a daughter – one of a string of such adoptions that Lord and Lady Gao had conducted over the years – and prepared her for service to the Black Sun from her first day with them.

Mai excelled and was sent to the Academy at eight. As a high-ranked telepath, she was scouted for Audits, but never wavered in her intention to join the Black Sun upon graduation. She graduated early, with honors, and immediately pledged to Anastasia’s service, who was then only a child. In addition to her duties as a maid, she trained beneath Mr. Lee, who was then serving as Josef Martynova’s personal bodyguard and assassin.

All telepaths were frightening, but Mai was something else. Katya felt safer alone with Renton than with the maid. She had never seen Mai get angry or commit an act of violence.

And yet…

Mai scared her. Even after the maid won Timor over, becoming a sort of surrogate big sister to him, Katya had remained wary in her presence. Timor, on the other hand, came to idolize Mai to a degree, in his dumb and friendly way.

Thinking about Timor, even indirectly, was a mistake, like tugging on a barbed cord that had been carefully threaded through her chest. Katya focused on her breathing exercises and waited for Mai to politely cough to draw her attention.

Mai hardly ever spoke. Whole weeks could pass without hearing her voice.

When she decided to speak, it was with Anastasia’s words.

“Pardon me, Katya,” Mai said. “I need a moment of your time.”

Katya gave herself a fraction of a second to quell her anxiety, and then she turned to face the maid.

Mai wore her uniform, a conservatively cut black dress that seemed like an impractical choice for the field, and must have decided to go with contacts, instead of the glasses she often wore. She looked stern and capable, the faintest hint of telepathic contact waiting politely for Katya to accede to it.

Hello, Mai, Katya thought, willing her mind blank. What does Ana need?

Let’s begin with a frank assessment, Mai thought, folding her hands at her waist and standing before Katya with perfect posture. You have been embedded among several persons of concern for some time. What conclusions have you drawn?

What can I say? Ana was right. Eerie really did fall for Alex. I don’t know when her plan changed, exactly, but I think she was visiting him the whole time he was confined. I don’t think she’s going to use Alex. She told me that she planned to return to the Church before the deadline.

I see. Mai pursed her lips, and Katya wondered if she was relaying the conversation to Anastasia as it happened. Do you believe her?

I don’t think she’s lying, but I can’t predict what she’s going to do. Eerie is a Changeling, and stability isn’t part of her nature. I believe she intends to go peacefully, because she fell for the boy too hard to use him. That’s what I think. You want certainty? Katya was perversely proud of the indifference in her shrug. There’s only one way to get it.

That’s the Changeling, then. What about Alexander Warner?

I doubt that he will go along with it, but I don’t think he can do much about it. Eerie seems to be holding back the consequences of using his protocol, at the moment, but as soon as she stops, he will fall asleep for a long time.

The Changeling is a complicated creature.

You have no idea, Mai. It’s been quite the experience.

What are your thoughts regarding Emily Muir?

She and Ana just had a little talk, didn’t they? What did you think?

I think she is alarmingly well-informed and extraordinarily dangerous, Mai thought, her expression the picture of sincerity. May I hear your conclusions regarding Miss Muir?

She’s got a plan and it’s working. She talked Alex into destroying the Anathema World Tree, isolating Central. She moved on the Far Shores while the Auditors were trapped in the field and took the whole place over. She’s recruiting, Mai. She’s grabbing people from both sides, and she’s offering neutral parties protection.

I have heard she has an impressive remote viewer assisting her, as well.

It’s more than just assistance, and it’s better than remote viewing. Vivik is a genius. The poor guy is probably the greatest surveillance asset out there, and Emily has him at her beck and call.

I see. So, Miss Muir is in possession of the Far Shores, and has Mr. Warner and this remote viewer working for her?

Vivik is working for her. Alex is…he’s clueless. I don’t think he really knows what it is he’s doing. Emily is keeping Eerie safe for the moment, and that’s all he’s thinking about right now.

Those are not inconsiderable assets, Mai thought. She’s built herself a power base.

That’s not all she’s got. Katya thought, briefly checking around them to see if anyone had noticed their conversation. Leigh Feld, the Anathema vampire, is acting as her right hand.

Leigh Feld. Another remarkable talent.

She’s pretty much invulnerable, so yeah, I’d say that’s a big get. She snatched up Chandi Tuesday yesterday, too. I don’t think she’s officially joined or anything, but if you give her time, I think Emily could win her over.

Truly, Miss Muir has kept herself busy of late. While we are on the subject of her recruiting, you know that I must ask, Mai thought, looking Katya in the eyes. Has she impacted your loyalties?

Katya sighed, took a final glance to make sure that everyone was distracted, and then closed her eyes.

“Go ahead,” Katya said, bracing herself. “I’ve got nothing to hide.”

Katya lowered her shields and Mai was inside of her head. The maid took care to be gentle, but the process was inherently invasive and painful. It was like being groped by a polite stranger.

It did not take long.

Mai retreated from her mind and Katya was alone inside her head again, left to straighten the furniture and rearrange the curios on the shelves.

I apologize for the intrusion, Mai thought, belatedly. I see that you have had a difficult time.

Business as usual. I’ve had worse.

Yes, that’s true, isn’t it? Mai gave her a look of pity, and Katya suppressed the urge to slap her. I am very sorry for the loss of your brother. I considered him a friend, as well as a loyal servant to our Mistress.

Thank you, Katya thought, unable to control a tremor that passed through her face and shamed by that failure. I know that Timor had a lot of respect for you.

We must share the burdens of the fallen, Katya. I have done my best to protect the Mistress in your brother’s place.

Thank you. He would have – that would have meant a lot to him, I’m sure.

A brief wave of emotion passed over Mai’s features before she regained her composure, and Katya almost softened her opinion of the woman.

Almost.

I must press on to the heart of the matter, Mai thought, glancing at Anastasia. We will depart in just a moment.

You have instructions for me, Katya said, folding her arms. I’m ready.

The Mistress has made her decision, Mai thought. We will not allow the Changeling to surrender herself.

What? Katya was amazed. She felt tingly and mildly faint. You’re kidding me!

The elimination of John Parson and the Anathema are crucial to the Mistress’s plans. The manifestation of the Church of Sleep is the simplest way to effect that outcome without risking our own forces.

What about the Church itself? Won’t we just be replacing one problem with a worse one?

There is a plan in place to deal with the Church of Sleep, Mai thought, giving Katya a smile that had never known a moment of worry or doubt. I believe the Mistress intends to deal with that matter herself.

Sounds risky to me. Make sure you tell Ana that, Katya thought. What do you want me to do?

Continue to protect Mr. Warner and the Changeling. Eliminate anyone who attempts to interfere.

What do I do about Eerie giving herself up?

Prevent it by any means required, Mai thought, touching Katya’s shoulder. Do you understand?

Katya understood her words, and the subtle empathic suggestion that accompanied them, conveyed by a pins-and-needles sensation where Mai touched her.

I understand.

Do you have any other messages for our Mistress? Mai gave her that look of pity again, raising Katya’s hackles. Shall I pass along a word for you?

Just tell her to be careful, Katya thought. Don’t underestimate any of them – Emily Muir especially. Ana just…she needs to make sure she’s not acting out of anger. I understand duty and obligation, but she can’t be predictable. She’s playing a truly dangerous game.

We all are, Mai thought, nodding and then turning away. Maintain your faith, Katya. Still more will be asked of you before this is over – I’m certain of it.

Katya kept her thoughts to herself as the maid retreated, but really, there was no need for that.

She agreed completely.

“I guess it’s time,” Alex said, elbowing her in the side to get her attention. “You ready for this?”

“No, probably not,” Katya admitted. “Not at all.”

“Yeah, me either,” Alex said. “Wanna do it anyway?”

“Do I have a choice?”

“Sure! You say the word and we bail. We’ll get Emily to find us another way home, back to the Far Shores,” Alex said, lowering his voice in a futile attempt to go unnoticed in a room full of telepaths. “We don’t have to be Auditors and you don’t need to be an assassin. We don’t need to work for Central or Anastasia. We can just walk away.”

Katya glanced at Alex, who appeared to make the offer from a place of complete nonchalance. Not for the first time, she wondered exactly what had happened in the Outer Dark to create this new version of himself.

“What happened to all that revenge you were going to get?”

“Stay or go, the Far Shores or wherever, I’m pretty sure I’ll end up doing a whole bunch of that stuff,” Alex said. “Trouble comes to me, you know? I don’t need to go looking.”

“Look at you, being all smart,” Katya grumbled. “Let’s just fucking do it. One more time, you and me. We’ll figure everything else out once we are back in Central. Back home.”

Was Central really her home, she wondered? Was that how she’d come to think of it?

She had been at the Academy for a little less than two years, the Far Shores for a few months.

It made no sense, but then again, what had, since her reunion with her long-lost cousin?

Alex nodded and looked pleased with himself. Katya looked at his dumb, trusting face, and hated herself.

“You know, Alex, I’ve been thinking,” she started, feeling just a little queasy. “We can’t let Eerie go to the Church. We can’t let her give up. We have to fight it.”

“Well, yeah! I mean, of course,” Alex said, giving her side-eye. “Did you think I was just going to go along with it? We’re gonna save everyone! But, you know, Eerie especially.”

“Yeah,” Katya said, shaking her head as she followed him to the apport station. “Dumb of me to ever think otherwise.”

***

Eerie was startled from exhausted distraction by a tone from her laptop, and then a rush of excitement as she felt the server begin the long process of coming online. The water ran cold in the sink, but her hands barely registered it. There was no perceptible change in the room, no electrical hum or whirring of fans, but in the back of Eerie’s deeply strange mind, a specific cluster of neurons started to fire, and a tightness spread across her skin.

Eerie took a deep breath. There was a subtle sweetness to the air, just a hint of ozone at the end of each inhale.

Somewhere on the roof, carefully aligned microwave dishes bombarded a tuned layer of the Ether with current, and it resonated accordingly. There was a universal vibration in response, just below the threshold of perception, a minor but pervasive adjustment. The Network was a sequence of echoes, each slightly modulated from the last, the next arriving before the previous could dissipate.

A handful of subsidiary servers came online, improving the signal-to-noise ratio. It was a fraction of the Network before it had crashed, but it was something. Surviving telepaths started to connect, each of their minds acting as another node for the Network. Eerie frowned at the diminished number of such nodes, the casualties of the war in Central. Her awareness was sudden and vast, not even requiring a laptop to facilitate it.

That was new, but it was also the way it should have been. It felt as natural as breathing to reach out and feel the Network as a vivid presence at the edge of her consciousness.

Eerie looked at herself in the mirror, studied the gleaming black of her massively enlarged pupils, and her vibrantly blue hair, ravaged by static electricity and in complete disarray.

There was no time to lose, she knew, but Eerie paused for a moment to rummage through her nylon tool bag, pushing aside wire cutters and a selection of comically tiny screwdrivers until she found what she wanted.

Eerie unwrapped an artificial cherry-flavored Blow Pop and shoved it in her mouth.

She connected to the server and started to configure. Internal fans whistled frantically inside her laptop, the smell of hot dust in her nostrils as she bent close to the monitor, both hands on the keyboard, her thumb impatiently smacking the space bar as she waited for the software to catch up to her eagerness.

The Network reboot was glacially paced. At present, the servers could do little more than respond to a ping, with numerous systems and applications needing her personal attention before they could run. Eerie was all the way through the candy shell and down to the gum center when the server finally responded to her entreaties with a DOS menu. She glanced around the bathroom before she punched in her administrative credentials.

The menus produced hidden submenus.

Eerie went to work, altering system parameters and pinging remote relays, rerouting traffic and resources by future memory and instinct. Her protocol buzzed in her head like a swarm of tiny golden bees. Eerie felt an invigorating current of electromagnetic and Etheric discharge in every cell of her body. Massive aerials on the roof bombarded a select band of the Ether with high-frequency waves, and that energized Ether compressed and resounded proportionately.

She labored patiently, her laptop resting on the bathroom counter, feeling perfectly in tune with the Kismet Protocol, command prompts spilling from her fingertips into the Ether. She modulated the broadcast frequency until the resonance was perfect, tuning a band of Ether until it rang like a bell.

Keying occasional commands with one hand, her eyes never leaving the screen, Eerie rifled through her bag. She came up with a pair of over-ear headphones, plastered with stickers and decals, and pulled them over her ears. She brushed her hair back behind the headphones, and then launched an encrypted signal client.

The laptop whined and spat hot air. A custom-designed executable launched a suite of purpose-built software based on coding principles she had not yet learned, a complex body of applications designed to work in concert with her protocol. Eerie tapped in a permission code, and then gasped as the software meshed with her back brain, the Kismet Protocol slotting neatly into the waiting sockets of applications that did not yet fully exist.

Eerie looked in the mirror and saw the whole of herself reflected, from her singular beginning to the many possible endings that existed like fever dreams at the edges of her being, and the one final path that she knew she would take, the decision that she knew she would reach.

Had reached long ago.

Would arrive at eventually.

She blinked back tears, swallowing regret over decisions not yet made. Eerie turned her attention back to the screen, forcing herself to stare at the advancing progress bar, using its monotonous progression to center herself.

There was no such thing as now, Eerie thought, but it was good to pretend otherwise.

Not easier. More enjoyable, though, and infinitely sweeter and sadder.

The client executed, and an encrypted channel was opened with the most distant relay on the Network. The signal was weak, and interference was regular, but it was stable enough to work. Eerie switched to her chat client and selected a name from a drop-down menu.

Eerie! Your timing is perfect. Emily’s thoughts were relayed by a transmitter in the headphones, like she was whispering into her ear. I was getting a little worried.

I’m almost ready, Eerie thought, launching another executable. How soon will you apport?

I’m stalling for time, Emily thought. Whenever you’re ready.

Eerie switched applications and reviewed the settings, altering a few. After a quick review, she launched the final necessary program.

I’m set, Eerie thought, watching a menu turn green, one set of characters after another. Do you want me to count you down?

Let’s do it, Emily thought. You know, Eerie, I’m really glad you asked me to join your club. I’ve had a lot of fun so far. I can’t wait to see what we get up to next!

Me too, Eerie thought. Counting down.

***

The buses stopped a long way from the gate at the Far Shores, almost out of Vivik’s line of sight. He waited patiently in the dark, standing out in the open and doing his best to look nonthreatening. He was sure that they were trying various radio and telepathic channels, to contact the security or staff of the Far Shores, and obviously having no success. He had looked for a radio before they arrived, but the batteries were dead on both units he located, so he just had to wait.

The door to the first bus opened after several minutes of idling.

He could tell it was Rebecca Levy by the cigarette burning in her hand, and he could tell how tired she was by the way her feet dragged when she walked.

He felt the first inkling of her empathic probing when she was halfway to the gate, and he did his best to relax and invite her in. Vivik appreciated that she was gentle, at least.

“I am surprised and confused to see you here, Vivik,” Rebecca said, leaning against the metal gate beside him. “What are you doing?”

“Emily wanted to meet you herself, but she’s been unavoidably delayed,” Vivik said, hoping that his smile was reassuring. “I’ve come in her stead to welcome you and the refugees to the Far Shores.”

“Uh huh.”

“You are safe here, Ms. Levy. We’ll take everyone, for as long as they need a place to stay.”

“Uh huh.”

“There’s food, and we have a doctor and a therapist waiting to…”

“Vivik, what the hell are you doing here?”

“I’m greeting you, as an official representative of the Far Shores,” he said. “You can check if you don’t…”

“I already checked. It’s very nice of you and Emily to welcome us, but it’s a bit unusual, considering that neither of you even has permission to be at the Far Shores,” Rebecca said. “I’d like to know why you feel like you are in a position to invite me into a place where I am the fucking Director.”

“I would’ve preferred if Emily did this, you know.”

“Me too, but here we are. Explain it to me.”

“I suppose there’s no other way to put it. The Far Shores belongs to us now.” Vivik jerked this thumb to the gatehouse. “The thing that opens the gate is in there. I’ll just start it, and we can get everyone inside.”

“Who is we?”

“I’m sorry?”

“Who exactly is claiming the Far Shores?” Rebecca demanded, dropping her cigarette on his side of the gate, where it smoldered in the grass. “This whole place belongs to Central, Vivik. To the Administration. It’s a damn science colony. The Auditors are based out of the Far Shores, for God’s sake!”

“Not anymore. I guess it belongs to Emily, but she’s very nice about that sort of thing.”

“Are we talking about Emily Muir?”

Vivik nodded.

“The one who joined the Anathema? Do you mean to tell me that the Anathema have taken the Far Shores?”

“No, that’s not it!”

“Have you become Anathema yourself, Vivik?”

“I haven’t! I promise!” He squeaked, backing away. “I’m on your side, Ms. Levy!”

“Are you?” Rebecca started to walk around the gate. “I thought you said you worked for Emily.”

“I’m on everyone’s side,” Vivik said. “Can’t you of all people understand that?”

Rebecca paused and closed her eyes for a moment. He felt her move through his mind like a warm breeze.

“I believe you, but I’m not sure that helps,” Rebecca said, grimacing. “You’ve gotten yourself caught up in treason to Central. That’s not something you fix with good intentions.”

“We need an alternative to the cartel system. I think you know that. I’m not turning on Central, I’m helping to create another way forward.”

“Save it. I’ve got sick people and kids in those buses to worry about. Open the gate, and then I’ll need you to gather everyone, all of Emily’s people, out on the lawn.”

“Why?”

“So I can yell at all of you at the same time,” Rebecca said, grabbing him by the collar. “Do you have any idea how much trouble you’re all in? There’s going to be a damn Inquiry at least, Vivik, and I have no idea how I’m going to protect you from the consequences of your extremely poor decision making.”

“You don’t understand,” Vivik complained, freeing himself. “You can hold your Inquiry if want. You can even sic the Auditors on us, if you still have any Auditors, and if you can get them to do it, but it won’t change a thing. We don’t need you to protect or correct us, and we aren’t going to take your orders. We will protect ourselves, if it comes to that.”

“This is crazy naïve bullshit,” Rebecca said, throwing her hands up. “You are going to end up dead because of this idiocy.”

“We are more prepared than you realize. We aren’t just kids, and this isn’t a spur of the moment decision. I’ve been working on this plan for years, and believe me, I’ve taken everything you are worried about into account.”

“You have no idea how much there is to worry about,” Rebecca grumbled. “You sure about this, Vivik? I know that you’re in love with Emily, but this is a bridge too far.”

“I am in love with her,” Vivik agreed calmly. “That’s not why I’m doing this. I believe in what we are doing here in the Far Shores. I believe that this is necessary, and I’m willing to stand behind it.”

“You fucking kids are all the same. You’re so beautiful and dumb, and you can’t even imagine how bad things can go,” Rebecca said. “Then you’re dead, in a box in the ground, and there’s nothing I can do about it.”

“We are ready for whatever comes. You trained us to be ready yourself,” Vivik assured her. “Shall I open the gate, or…?”

“Who else is here with you?” Rebecca demanded. “Did Emily bring Anathema with her from the Outer Dark?”

“A few people came with her, though I don’t think any of them are true Anathema. Mostly families and technicians and scientists. You’ll meet them pretty soon,” Vivik said, heading for the gatehouse. “Let’s get the refugees settled inside, and then maybe you’ll have tea with me while we get them looked at and housed? We want our guests to be comfortable.”

Rebecca looked at him for a long time, before finally shrugging and turning back to the buses.

“I’d say that I hope you know what you are doing, but there’s no way,” Rebecca said, walking away. “You are supposed to be one of the smart ones, Vivik.”

He watched her from inside of the gatehouse, nearly forgetting to activate the gate as he mulled it over.

“I am,” he whispered, activating the mechanism. “I’m almost sure.”

Eighteen

Day Four

The room was much larger than it needed to be, as Henry North’s great-grandfather had built it with eventual domination of the Hegemony in mind. That conquest had never materialized, and as numbers in Central dwindled in recent years, the number of empty chairs at the great table became a suffocating reminder of diminished power. The wood-paneled walls tended to echo footsteps and clearings of throats, and the gleaming stone floors, framed artwork, and antique furniture provided an atmosphere more in line with a museum than a cartel headquarters.

The current gathering only occupied a corner of the room, the attendees clustered near the head of the table and forced to raise their voices to be heard across it. The mood was somber, and the conversation dragged. Servants hurried about with great frequency, infected by contagious apprehension, regularly providing and removing trays of sandwiches, rice bowls, and pots of coffee.

The food went largely untouched. The coffee was far more popular.

At Sofia Morales-North’s insistence, a stock of herbal tea and hot water was continually replenished. Sanjiv Mehta preferred kombucha, while Ron Kent sent the maid in search of rice milk for his coffee.

Nathan Drava received unusually attentive service from the household maids, on account of his youth, good looks, and recent inheritance, but to general disappointment, he politely required nothing save water, of which he drank sparingly.

Peter Weathers drank from a bottle of water he brought himself, and touched none of the refreshments, a calculated insult as well as a precaution.

The meeting had begun that morning, and continued through lunch into the late afternoon, with no signs of breaking or coming to resolution. If not for Lucy Kent-Mehta and Timothy Vidal-North requiring regular breaks to smoke, the meeting would have gone without intermission. There had been no actual arguments, but the room was thick with unfocused tension. The chairs were not comfortable, and the room was kept slightly too warm.

If the topic had not been so dire, Henry North reflected, some of the attendees might well have been expected to fall asleep.

“You can talk around it all that you care to,” Sanjiv Mehta said, stroking the grey hairs of his substantial beard, “but the facts will not change. Aside from our estates and a few scattered residential blocks, we have lost control of Central.”

“It would be more accurate to describe Central as having fallen to the Thule Cartel,” Kevin Morales-North insisted, his suit jacket struggling to contain the breadth of his shoulders. “Most of the territory they have taken was held in common by the citizens of Central, or belonged to the Black Sun, or other unaffiliated cartels. Our losses are actually quite modest.”

“That may be true, but it makes little difference.” Lucy tossed her bobbed hair, the accent provided by her Oxford education on full display. “We cannot cross the city, and our use of the main road is restricted.”

“You made it here safely,” Nathan said. “It is unfortunate you took one of our apport stations offline, however.”

“That was Alistair’s fault,” Lucy said wearily, touching her head. “I was under his telepathic control, and I’ve explained that already.”

“Yes,” Nathan said dryly. “It is too bad you weren’t able to handle him.”

“Alistair is beyond all of us, you little brat,” Lucy snapped. “I won’t discuss it further. The issue at hand is that we cannot guarantee the safety of those households loyal to us within the city proper. We cannot reach the Academy or the Far Shores or reinforce our besieged positions in the outskirts. If our own lands have not suffered greatly, what difference does it make? Central is occupied by a hostile power.”

“Things are not quite so dire as that,” Timothy Vidal-North countered. “We are in no danger of collapse, whatever the logistical situation.”

“That will change if we cannot soon reinforce contested positions,” Peter Weathers warned, impatiently reshuffling the documents in front of him. “The Thule occupation of the former Muir estate is particularly troublesome. It overlooks the main road and controls the approach to the outskirts and the Far Shores.”

“On that point, we may have some good news,” Henry North offered, stirring the fresh cappuccino that the younger of his two butlers had just delivered. “We are not without allies, ladies and gentlemen. I have it on good account that the old Muir estate was raided successfully yesterday.”

“Raided by whom?” Ron Kent asked, tugging at his overly starched collar. “Surely, if it were our own forces, we would have taken possession by now.”

“The raid was performed by forces affiliated with an ally in our struggle with Thule Cartel,” Lord North said smoothly. “I assure you that the intelligence is reliable. Thule forces at the estate have been neutralized, and we can occupy or bypass the property at will.”

“What of the former Lord and Lady Muir?” Sanjiv Mehta asked. “Prior failings aside, their joining our alliance could only…”

Collette Higgins cleared her throat from the furthest occupied chair.

“I regret to inform you that Lord and Lady Muir are deceased, Lord Mehta,” she said, frowning deeply. “It is very likely that they were tortured for information before they were killed.”

Lord Mehta looked stricken, while Lady Mehta gasped and daubed her eyes with a handkerchief. Sofia hurried over to put a comforting hand on her shoulder.

“Monstrous,” Peter Weathers said, looking shaken. “What is this madness?”

Sanjiv Mehta took his glasses off to rub his eyes. Ron Kent paled, his daughter Lucy putting her hand over his.

“The same as what happened to the Ricci family,” Timothy Vidal-North said, chin resting on his hands. “How very grim.”

“Another point of positive news, then,” Lord North said. “Serafina Ricci escaped the general massacre. The Ricci family and line have not been extinguished.”

“Where is she now?” Sofia asked. “She could be useful, if only for her protocol.”

“She is at large, for the present,” Henry North said, glancing down at the tablet glowing on the table in front of him. “In the custody of a neutral party…”

“Neutral?” Lucy Kent-Mehta threw her hands up in a gesture of shock. “Who could possibly remain neutral in this conflict?”

“Neutral is perhaps the wrong term,” Sofia admitted. “It would be more accurate to say that Miss Ricci is in the hands of the enemies of our enemy.”

“You mean the Black Sun,” Peter Weathers said, grimacing and pulling at his mustache. “Certainly, they must be considered enemies.”

“Our oldest enemies,” North agreed. “In this circumstance, however…”

“You assume that Anastasia Martynova hates the Thule Cartel to the extent that she would become our de facto ally,” Sanjiv Mehta said. “That strikes me as a dangerous assumption, Henry.”

“It is not an assumption,” Henry countered, glancing back down at the tablet. “I have received a formal offer of truce and cooperation, in the matter of the suppression of the Thule Cartel.”

“Not a de facto alliance, then,” Lucy said, jotting notes on the pad before her, “but a stated arrangement.”

“The Director announced the formal suppression of the Thule Cartel this morning. They were found in violation of the agreement signed last week, obliging Gaul Thule to a duel that he failed to attend,” Kevin added, tugging at his collar uncomfortably. “That could allow Lady Martynova to cooperate with us temporarily.”

“It could be a ruse,” Peter suggested. “If she uses the suppression as pretext to move her forces into Central, assuming we will bear the brunt of the losses against Thule, the Black Sun would be well-positioned to attack while we are weak.”

“That is unlikely,” Collette said. “Apports in or out of Central are very limited at present.”

“What help can the Black Sun provide, then?” Sanjiv asked. “They never maintained a large presence in Central, and as Kevin mentioned, their affiliated families suffered heavily in the Thule purge. Is Lady Martynova offering anything more than moral support?”

“A great deal more,” Henry said. “My understanding is that her return to Central, with a substantial force, is imminent.”

Nathan Drava nodded, while Sanjiv grunted in surprise.

“Assuming we were to agree to the arrangement,” Sofia added reassuringly, “Lady Martynova has offered a cessation of hostilities until the Thule Cartel is brought to heel, and her personal intervention in the conflict.”

The group quieted, absorbing the information, and its various implications.

“The rumors are true, then,” Lucy mused. “There will be no end to this affair, except the extinguishing of the Thule family or the Martynova family.”

“How else could she respond?” Kevin asked. “The assassination of her father demands as much.”

“On her part, perhaps,” Lucy said. “For our part, however, I would suggest that less radical solutions are still available, assuming we have not tied ourselves to the fortunes of the Martynova family.”

“We are outnumbered and badly positioned,” Lord North said. “Without meaningful support, I very much doubt that we can hold out.”

“There is another option, though, is there not?” Timothy suggested. “My intelligence indicates that Emily Muir has recruited her own forces and seized control of the Far Shores.”

The room was briefly consumed with questioning looks and hushed conversation.

“We have not heard this, Lord Vidal,” Lucy said politely. “Perhaps you could provide verification?”

“You can trust my sources,” Timothy said, smiling. “I will say no more than that.”

“What good does Emily Muir do us?” Sanjiv wondered. “She and her sister defected to the Anathema!”

“She has certainly spent some time in the Outer Dark,” Lord North acknowledged. “I have had dealings with Miss Muir in the recent past, however, and found her to be reliable and discreet, if not trustworthy.”

His words rustled through the room like a sudden wind, startling everyone except Collette and Sofia.

“That was a bold maneuver, Lord North,” Sanjiv observed. “I would have preferred to know of such a thing sooner.”

“I’m certain that you would, Lord Mehta,” Sofia replied. “Lord North is hardly required to disclose his personal affairs to you, however much advantage you might be able to gain from them.”

“This is more than boldness,” Peter said, seething. “This borders on treachery, Lord North, and I will be making a formal complaint.”

“We can discuss this another time, if truly necessary,” Timothy Vidal-North said. “I don’t think it to be among our priorities right now.”

“I agree,” Nathan Drava said, with a quick glance toward Henry North. “I think we need to talk about next moves. I think we need to take a closer look at the old Muir estate. If we can occupy the manor and the gate, then…”

“Then the road is ours, at least outside the city,” Lord North said, shuffling his papers. “That gives us a place to start.”

“We cannot stop there,” Timothy Vidal-North said. “We have to push on immediately for the city.”

“We are very aware of the plight of your wife’s and my cousin’s families, Lord Vidal,” Sofia said. “We begin by sending a scouting force to the Muir estate…”

Timothy opened his mouth to object, and Sanjiv stirred in his seat.

“…to confirm that we can use it as an advance base,” Sofia said, smiling politely. “If the location is secure, a larger force will be sent forward immediately, with Central as their ultimate goal. Kevin, Collette…would you please start assembling a strike force? Draw from all household and retainer personnel, and plan for significant enemy contact.”

Kevin nodded and stood, waiting for Collette to gather her notebook before hurrying from the room.

Timothy bit his lip, and then nodded.

“That’s all fine,” Nathan Drava said, his voice breaking. “There’s just one thing left to decide, then. Who do we send to do reconnaissance?”

“My son is already occupied with assembling and leading the main force,” Lord North said, glancing at his wife, who gave him a nod. “I was thinking that I might take a bit of a drive out to the Muir estate myself, for old time’s sake. Sofia and I passed several happy afternoons there, when we were younger, and I dislike the idea of interlopers having the run of the place.”

Another stir passed through the room.

“You compound folly with folly,” Peter complained. “And to what end?”

“Are you certain, Lord North?” Sanjiv leaned forward in concern. “The area is full of Thule patrols, and if you are killed or taken, our cause is all but lost.”

“Do you think there is anyone capable of doing so?” Lord North’s eyes were flinty, full of sharp edges. “Do you imagine me to be in any danger at all, Lord Mehta? Have you forgotten what we did together in Varanasi, that August when the ghouls came swarming from the Ganges like a plague of toads?”

Sanjiv shook his head.

“I have not forgotten. That is why I worry,” he said, grinning. “You relied upon me almost entirely.”

“I prefer to think of it as a collaboration,” Lord North said. “One in which I was the principal.”

“You were an assistant. An able one, yes, but…”

“With your retirement from the field, I have no further rivals to consider,” Lord North said. “Don’t worry, Lord Mehta. My wife knows what is to be, and she has approved the venture. What more assurance could one want?”

“I would have the affair be ended, my Lord,” Lucy Kent-Mehta said, looking fondly at her husband. “And ourselves triumphant, of course.”

“I’m coming with you, Lord North,” Nathan Drava said, his butler swooping in to gather his things as he left the table. “With your permission, of course.”

Lord North glanced at his wife. She nodded serenely, with a fond look at the young Lord.

“Very well, Lord Drava,” Lord North said, throwing on his heavy woolen coat. “Let us see for ourselves whatever there is to see.”

***

Lord Gao was the first to advance through the open gate to the fenced Thule compound outside of Central, while the rest waited a short distance away.

The day was mild, but the remnants of smoke still lingered in the air, poisoning every breath with charred carbon. The wind slunk through the trees and brushed feebly against their clothes. The road was empty, save for a couple of burnt out and abandoned cars, left over from the exodus of Central during the fighting, and the remainder of an ad hoc roadblock that had been hastily assembled a few days before, and abandoned even more quickly sometime in the last twenty-four hours, judging by the half-eaten MREs and the nearly depleted batteries in the slumbering laptops.

They had expected to fight their way from the city to the Thule compound, but nothing of the sort was required. The greatest challenge was navigating the wrecks and broken checkpoints strewn liberally about Central.

Only one checkpoint had been both manned and foolish enough to attempt to stop the convoy of three black SUVs. A handful of Thule militia had occupied the crude barrier, depending entirely on firearms, in the absence of any protocols of their own. At a nod from Anastasia, Mai crushed their implanted psychic defenses, and then tore through their unprotected minds like a racoon in a chicken coop, leaving nothing behind but feathers and blood.

The remainder of the drive had been uneventful.

“It seems very quiet, Mistress,” Mai observed, as Lord Gao strolled through the open gate. “This is not their primary facility, but I had expected something more in the way of a welcome.”

“As had I,” Anastasia said. “You sense nothing?”

“Not a thing,” Mai confirmed, closing her eyes. “The compound is empty, or the remaining residents are skilled enough to make it appear that way.”

Lord Gao marched down the driveway, pausing occasionally to check on a body.

There are four of them, Mistress, he thought, heading for the house. All dead. Not particularly fresh. Yesterday, perhaps?

We are too late, Anastasia thought. The battle has occurred without us.

Lord Gao made quick work of determining the garden, outbuildings, and main house estate were all unoccupied. The Black Sun contingent watched the search through the vampire’s eyes with Mai’s assistance. Many doors had been forced, kicked in by someone who had been in a hurry.

There were more bodies.

Three had died at the door to the manor or beside the main stairs. Two had their throats slit, and appeared to have died unawares, the same as the ones outside. The final body, a woman, had a phone in one hand and a gun in the other. Her head had been bashed in with a frying pan, which had been discarded beside the body, the dent on the pan matching the curvature of her skull.

Another four had died attempting to hide, likely after they heard that struggle, found one by one cowering in closets or hidden beneath beds.

They had died cleanly.

The final two bodies were located in the basement.

Two men had been tied to chairs and questioned.

Paul Lethe-Thule. Gaul Thule’s cousin. No protocol or accomplishments of note, Anastasia said, of the older of the two dead men. I cannot remember the other man’s name, but he was the business manager for the Thule estate.

Their questioner had been in a hurry, which was the only mercy they were shown. Lord Gao did not linger long on their missing teeth and fingers.

This was not a battle, Lord Gao thought, climbing the stairs back to the main floor. This was a massacre, perpetrated in stealth.

Anastasia nodded as she followed Donner and Blitzen through the gates into the Thule estate.

By an ally, or one of similar intent, she said, walking over the first of the bodies without a glance. A retainer of mine, perhaps.

The intruder killed five guards before being noticed, despite the security and the cameras. Lord Gao examined the body at the base of the stair, a black-haired man whose neck was sliced so deep that his head lolled over onto his right shoulder. This is the work of my son, Mistress. It could only have been Daniel who destroyed this compound.

At least one of my suitors is still in play, then, unlike poor Peter Rurikovich. Interesting.

Anastasia stopped in front of the manor, looking the old house over skeptically, like a potential buyer. Mai produced a small brush from her bag and used the opportunity to dust Anastasia’s slippers and the base of her skirt.

Anastasia put a finger to her lips, which were painted a violet that deepened to black at the edges. Lord Gao rejoined them, his hands folded behind his back, while the Weir roamed the garden, running protective circles around their Mistress.

“There is still the old Thule estate in Central, before we move on to their ancestral manor in Iceland.”

“Yes, Mistress,” Mai said, moving on to her Mistress’s hair. “I will send word to begin preparations immediately. We will need better intelligence, and the route must be secured before we visit.”

“Another delay? How unfortunate.” Anastasia considered it while Mai finished teasing her curls into place. “Very well. In the meantime, we shall put some effort into locating my remaining retainers.”

“Yes, Mistress. Will you be staying in Central for the interval, then?”

Anastasia nodded.

“I will have the house prepared,” Mai said. “I shall also begin locating an appropriate chef.”

“I want a search done for any remaining Thule associates or family in Central. I would assume most of the relevant parties are dead or underground, but we would be remiss not to look.”

Mai nodded, already relaying telepathic instructions.

“I want an update on the statuses of Serafina Ricci and Chandi Tuesday,” Anastasia said. “Mai, I would appreciate you taking a personal interest in that issue.”

“Yes, Mistress,” Mai said. “Right away.”

Anastasia turned toward the gate, the Weir falling in on either side of her.

“Burn this place to the ground, Lord Gao,” Anastasia ordered, gesturing at the estate around her. “Leave nothing standing.”

“Yes, Mistress,” Lord Gao said.

“Take the heads, then burn the bodies,” Anastasia added, from the gate. “It’s not much, but perhaps it will serve as a down payment on my father’s funeral.”

“Of course, Mistress,” Lord Gao said. “Right away.”

***

Maxim woke from dreams of pain to a reality that was no better. His brain was fogged by morphine and trauma, but he knew instantly that he was in a tent, and a moment later, that it must have belonged to Ksenia, the only female in Simeon’s squad.

Even in the field, without luxuries like showers and cosmetics, women still smelled better.

He was so loaded that his head felt like it was floating just above the inflatable pillow, while the fingertips of the hand that wasn’t swaddled in bandages seemed to be able to pick out each thread of the sleeping bag beneath him. His mouth felt dry and distended, as if it were stuffed with cotton balls, and his entire face was profoundly numb.

Despite that, he hurt.

His hand throbbed, but that was nothing compared to the searing pain centered in his knee, where Alistair had shot him. Nothing had ever hurt so badly before, and it was all Maxim could do not to whimper.

He took what seemed like a very long time to compose himself.

I’ve covered all the openings, so the tent is dark. It’s safe to open your eyes, if you want. Ksenia’s thoughts came from somewhere nearby, confirming his suspicion, but not surprising him. They were cousins from friendly families, for one thing, and for another, they had attended officer training together. I’m sorry about the pain. The doctor gave you a shot, earlier, but…

“It’s fine,” he said, cracking open his eyes to the dim and dusty space.

Or that’s what he meant to say. His dry throat and cottonmouth strangled the words before they made it to his lips.

Ksenia put the nipple of a squeeze bottle to his lips.

“Drink,” she said. “Don’t try and talk. Our telepathic implant is still working.”

It took him three tries before he managed to get some of the water down his throat. He felt bad about spitting water all over Ksenia’s sleeping bag, but she did not seem concerned. He took a few more sips, and then she took the bottle away to prevent him from getting sick.

You got some IV fluids a couple hours ago, Ksenia said, propping his head. Matheus just finished working on you.

I better not get cancer, Maxim thought warily. I don’t trust that kid.

I do, though, and you trust me. He very likely saved your life last night. They don’t have a full surgery kit or anything out here. We did what we could with what we had, but Matheus’s protocol made the difference.

Maxim accepted it, but he did not like it.

He was not alone in that. Biological manipulation was a deeply unusual sort of protocol, and Matheus’s variation, the innocuously named Binding Protocol, had been known to occur only once prior, in conjunction with the Black Sun’s most shocking defection to the Anathema.

It was creepy enough that the kid could potentially give you cancer just by thinking about it, but it was even worse that his protocol was associated with a legend that haunted the whole cartel. Matheus had not been popular among the Black Sun or at the Academy and was known to have been recruited as an assassin almost immediately after his Introduction.

He had refused that recruitment publicly, but no one was reassured.

He had elected to follow the path of his adopted father and brother and begin to serve his family and cartel in the field, distinguishing himself as a medic and an Operator, but not gaining much in the way of acceptance. No unit had been willing to take him until Simeon had chosen him, at Ksenia’s near insistence.

Ksenia had a big family, even by Black Sun standards, with easily a hundred relations in China and Hong Kong. Matheus was an orphan adopted by one of her many, many uncles.

Matheus had not yet given anyone cancer – that Maxim knew of, anyway – or done anything harmful with his protocol at all, to friend or foe, but who could know for sure? They could have all been dying from secret tumors, cunningly implanted in crucial organs as they slept.

It was not likely. But it was possible.

It came down to the hands, for Maxim. More accurately, it was the way Matheus used his hands in the course of employing his protocol.

The idea of Matheus messing around in his guts like a faith healer was sickening.

It was only your knee and your hand, Ksenia thought. He did not have to reach inside you anywhere important. Why would Matheus give you cancer, anyway? I think he likes you, and we are all on the same side, anyway.

I still don’t like it.

Why?

I just don’t.

“Well, get over it,” Ksenia said. Now that his eyes had adjusted, he could see that she was folding clothes, still halfway dressed for the field. “I’ll expect you to thank him properly when he comes back.”

“Enough about that,” Maxim growled. “Where is Simeon?”

“He’s talking to our hosts, trying to borrow their apport station.”

“Our hosts? Where are we?”

“We are camped just outside the Far Shores campus, which has somehow become the personal kingdom of Emily Muir.” Ksenia smiled ruefully. “She’s intolerably pleased with herself, let me tell you.”

“How did we end up at the Far Shores?”

“That vampire, Leigh Feld, pretty much fought Alistair to a standstill,” Ksenia said admiringly. “She couldn’t take him down, but with the rest of us around to help, he couldn’t deal with her conclusively either. They fought for a while, then he backed off and disappeared. Leigh radioed for help and they brought us back here. You were in the infirmary until this morning.”

“About that,” Maxim said. “Why am I in your tent?”

“I’m trying to protect you from being more exposed than you already have been,” Ksenia said, tossing aside the shirt she was folding angrily. “Maxim, what the fuck were you doing? You had Gabriela Thule, and you let her live?”

“I took her prisoner,” Maxim objected weakly. “We could have used her to get close to the rest of the family.”

“We weren’t told to take prisoners, and you know it,” Ksenia said. “We were sent to kill the Thule Cartel. You messed up, Maxim. The most important job of your entire life, and you messed it all up.”

“That’s not…”

“I want to know why,” Ksenia said, leaning over him. “Why didn’t you just kill her?”

“She was just a kid,” Maxim protested. “It’s not so easy, okay? I’ve never…I never had to kill someone like that. A kid.”

“What the hell are you talking about? Half the cartel soldiers are…”

“It wasn’t like that,” Maxim said. “She wouldn’t fight back.”

“You sentimental buffoon,” Ksenia said. “What are you going to do now? You’ve got yourself all shot up and missed your only chance. What will your family do?”

“I intended to kill her,” Maxim insisted. “I just wanted to use her first. I had a plan.”

“Did you really?” Ksenia sighed. “I think everyone here knows what they are doing but you.”

Maxim stewed and raged.

The pain was so intense that he was afraid to look at the ball of white bandage that concealed his knee.

“It’s pretty bad,” Ksenia said, following his eyes. “You won’t be able to walk for at least a few weeks.”

“Then it’s over,” Maxim said dully. “I’m crippled, and Daniel’s already killed Gabby, so he has a head start on…”

Never let anyone hear you call her that again, if you don’t want even more trouble than you already have coming, Ksenia thought, her expression severe. I really shouldn’t tell you this, given the mess you already made, but…the Thule girl didn’t die.

She got away?

That is what I’ve heard, Ksenia thought. She’s a Thule, after all. They’re a bunch of freaks. God knows what they are capable of.

Maxim lay back and said nothing.

“I really wanted you to win and marry Lady Martynova,” Ksenia said, sighing as she returned to her folding. “I would have been part of the wedding party and everything.”

Maxim covered his face.

“I’m sorry, Ksenia.”

“God. She really did a number on you, didn’t she? You’re still a mess.”

He did not reply.

“You’ve left me with no choice,” she said. “I have to support Simeon now.”

“I know.”

“It can’t be Daniel Gao, and it absolutely cannot be Renton Hall.” Ksenia grimaced. “I have to make sure that Simeon…”

“I know!” Maxim tried not to shout and failed. “I understand!”

Ksenia glared at him, and then went back to folding her clothes.

“It really is a shame,” she said bitterly. “I wanted it to be you.”

Maxim rolled onto his side, facing away from Ksenia. He had enough control that he knew he would not cry, but he was worried about what his face might show of the despair that he felt.

***

The Range Rover was even more enormous on the inside than out, the interior smelling of fresh plastic and treated leather. Lord North drove at a breakneck speed through the foothills, following dirt roads that crossed the private land of old estates, well away from the roadblocks and armed contention of the main road, while Nathan Drava did his best not to cling to the overhead handle.

They turned from a pressed dirt road to a gravel track that bounced Nathan against the new leather of his seat. The pastureland of the North estate gave way gradually to cultivated woods and fir trees in orderly lines. The road rose steeply into the hills, the tree plantations ending on the lower slope, replaced by groves of the heavy, blue-green pine trees common to Central, with their camphor-scented sap and strange circular seed pods. Nathan put his hand on the window to keep his head from bouncing off the glass as the SUV tilted alarmingly, but Lord North pushed onward, not concerned by the rough terrain.

The gravel track dwindled and gave way to a crude path, a narrow ribbon of red dirt that traced a route through the wooded valleys between the foothills, overgrown with shrubs and crisp brown grass. Nathan was impressed with Lord North’s navigation even through the haze of his growing carsickness. He had never even heard of the roads that they followed, despite having spent ample time in the foothills of Central, and he relaxed slightly, knowing that ambush from the Thule Cartel was unlikely, given the obscurity of their route.

“I wonder at your reasons for joining me, Lord Drava,” Henry North said, not taking his eyes from the barely visible route they followed. “I hope you don’t share Sanjiv’s concerns for my safety.”

“Not at all, Lord North. Er, I mean to say, no more than is appropriate,” Nathan sputtered. “Your safety is a paramount concern, sir, obviously, but that was not my sole motivation.”

“I assumed as much. Do please call me Henry in private. You are a Lord now, after all, Nathan, and we are peers.”

“Yes, I…of course, sir.”

“You were saying?”

They crossed a particularly rough patch of ground, gravel and dirt spitting from beneath their tires, and Nathan clung to the rocking cabin and was deeply grateful for his seatbelt.

“I joined you because I believe this conflict is rapidly reaching a conclusion,” Nathan said, his hands on the dashboard. “I do not want it to end without contributing meaningfully to its resolution.”

“You worry for your reputation,” Henry said, threading his way through tree trunks at alarming speed. “I do not think it necessary. I have heard no rumors or suspicions regarding the tragic end of your parents, only sympathy.”

“Nor have I, nor would I care. I wish to advance my career, and this conflict presents an opportunity to do so. What better place to be, than beside the leader of the free Hegemony, when he takes the field?”

Lord North glanced at Nathan, taking his eyes from the scant road for a fraction of a second. He burst out laughing, taking one hand off the wheel to pound Nathan’s shoulder approvingly.

“Well said, young Lord,” Henry said, grinning broadly. “You make me sound like some sort of knight-errant.”

“The heirs of the Great Families are in the field, fighting cartel against cartel,” Nathan said, shrugging. “Perhaps for the last time. If that is not the stuff of an Arthurian romance, then I do not know what is.”

“I see your point. You are an ambitious young man, aren’t you?”

Nathan saw no need to make a reply.

“Ambition is a fine quality, in appropriate measure,” Lord North said. “Do try and remember that.”

“Of course,” Nathan said smoothly. “You can trust me completely, Lord North.”

“Henry, please.”

Nathan nodded.

“What do you think we will encounter, sir?”

“I don’t think they know about this road,” Lord North said unnecessarily. “I would imagine we can get very close, maybe within a mile or so of the old Muir estate, before we have to worry about bumping into anyone."

Nathan would have nodded, but he was too busy being bounced about the cabin of the Range Rover.

“I understand that you are quite the hunter,” Lord North said, thoughtful enough not to mention that Nathan’s recently deceased father would have doubtless been the source of that information.

“I’m not in your league, sir,” Nathan said, recalling the mounts and photos that were confined to Lord North’s office and reception hall, his wife and daughter being firmly against the entire practice. “Our cartel has holdings in Montana and Minnesota, and we – I – have made the last several deer seasons at both.”

“I believe I remember a lovely piece of land outside of Bozeman, with dramatic views of the mountains,” Lord North said, taking a bend around a thick copse of pine without seeming to apply the brake at all. “I visited it briefly one fall, many years ago.”

“That’s the place, sir,” Nathan said. “I took a ten-point buck last season. That’s the extent of my experience, though. I’ve been duck hunting a few times, and I assisted my father during elk season, but nothing like what you’ve done, sir.”

“Money and age are the important qualities in big-game hunting. You can’t take a lion if you can’t get to Africa first,” Lord North said, taking his eyes from the road for an alarmingly long time to size Nathan up. “Say, Lord Drava, what would you think of joining me for a bit of a safari, after this whole ordeal is over? The cartel owns several farms in Botswana, you see, and there’s a good variety of game to be had.”

“I would be honored, sir,” Nathan said, concealing his elation.

“This is the boundary to the Muir estate,” Lord North said, slowing for the first time in their trip as they passed over a trickle of a creek on a low concrete bridge. “The main house is not far from here, as I recall.”

The woods had been cut back on the other side of the creek until they were little more than occasional green crowns atop the sloping foothills to create grazing land, but they passed no more than a handful of cattle as they went, the pasture lands dry and wildly overgrown.

“Do you see that, sir?” Nathan said, pointing ahead of them. “Smoke.”

“This estate has suffered from neglect in recent years,” Lord North remarked. “A wildfire breaking out in the untended brush is not out of the question.”

Nathan felt doubtful, but kept his mouth shut. Lord North laughed unexpectedly.

“I doubt it as well, Lord Drava,” he said, downshifting. “I find it much more likely to be related to our own errand here.”

Nathan nodded, not feeling certain of himself enough to ask any more questions.

Most of what had come since he killed his father and assumed his title had felt like a very pleasant, somewhat unlikely dream, and the offer of a safari with Lord North only accentuated that. The process of assuming the Lordship was as intoxicating as it was taxing, and Nathan felt particularly keyed up, though he had not slept well in days.

They crept through the rolling hills, Lord North suddenly employing all the care and caution that he had eschewed earlier. The grasslands had been colonized by various bushes and shrubs during the spring rains, slim young oaks and willows occupying former pastures alongside blackberries, holly, and poison oak. Fences were tilted or collapsed, and the barn they passed was beginning to list as rotted wood gave way.

He had heard about what happened to the Muir family, obviously, but the story fascinated Nathan, not least because he had nursed a crush on Therese Muir since their overlapping tenure at the Academy. It was a setup right out of a gothic romance, Nathan thought, two beautiful sisters born into a declining family, an embittering blend of prior prestige and current destitution.

Nathan had more sympathy for the sisters’ shared decision than his peers, finding their plight relatable to his own. His father, a genteel third-generation aristocrat of impeccable manners and very little practical skill, had diminished the cartel fortunes from prosperity to desperation while Nathan was a child, and only Nathan’s recent intervention had prevented him from losing all that they had left by joining the Thule Cartel’s insane bid for power.

Nathan did not approve of the Muir sisters joining the Anathema, but he felt as if he could sympathize with their motivations.

They crossed another tiny stream, water-smoothed stones sliding beneath the tires, the track improving marginally as they neared the estate house. The brush came right up to the edge of the road, branches and resinous leaves brushing against the exterior of the Range Rover.

The foothills ahead of them bled dark-grey smoke into the softer grey of the sky. The hills were less gentle than those they had passed earlier, outcroppings of mottled stone protruding randomly from the slopes like cancerous growths, carved by the winds into strange twisting shapes. The trail of dust behind them took a long while to settle, a blanket of dull brown hanging above the road for several minutes after they passed.

Nathan’s early sense of security dwindled. If any Thule personnel remained, all it would take to anticipate their approach was to look in their direction.

The sun disappeared behind the hills as the road descended, and Nathan was grateful for his jacket’s tweed lining.

Lord North slammed on the brakes. Nathan was choked by his seatbelt.

Nathan looked at Lord North in alarm. He gripped the steering wheel, looking at the empty road ahead of them with an expression that Nathan could not read.

“Lord Drava, if you would,” Henry North said, rubbing his eyes. “Did you happen to just see three people in the road?”

“No, sir,” Nathan said, glancing around at their surroundings. “I saw no one.”

Lord North’s right hand drifted from the steering wheel to the metal oblong attached to his belt, which looked very much like an umbrella handle.

“We have been noticed,” Henry North said, rolling forward a short distance before coming to a dusty stop in the middle of the road, a parched and overgrown meadow on one side, and the foothills on the other. “I think you may have an opportunity to prove yourself sooner than expected, Lord Drava.”

Henry exited the Rover, and Nathan hurried to do the same, snatching his rifle from the backseat and readying it as he went.

“You may as well come out,” Lord North said, taking the silver oblong from his belt. “Your illusions are impressive as always, Mateo, but you’ll need to do better than that if you want to get rid of me.”

“I don’t want to get rid of you at all, Lord North,” Mateo said, suddenly standing in front of them in a slim-cut white suit that was utterly untouched by the dust of the road, or the dead grass that lined it. “I simply want to delay you a short time.”

“Why is that, Mateo?” Lord North pushed a stub on the metal device, and coils of flame spilled out, collecting in a bright and sinuous coil beside him. “What is it that you don’t want me involved in?”

“Nothing of great concern or significance,” Mateo assured him. “It would be better, sir, if you were to take my word on it.”

“In better times, I just might,” Henry said. “We are at war, however.”

“I am certain that Thule leadership would be eager to sign a truce,” Mateo said. “Given the opportunity to do so.”

“A truce? You attacked the North Cartel. This conflict is entirely the fault of the Thule Cartel.”

“Be that as it may, I believe that Lord Thule is content with his current position and would be most interested in preventing any further bloodshed,” Mateo said. “All that is required of you is to remain a short time under my supervision, until certain affairs are safely concluded.”

“I will not,” Henry said. “Do you intend to force this issue, Mateo?”

“I do, sir, regretfully.”

“I am reluctant to kill my wife’s cousin, so I will give you an opportunity to reconsider,” Lord North said, coils of brilliant energy spilling from the metal handle with a flick of his wrist, the brown weeds by the side of the road bursting into flame on contact. “Are you certain you wish to pursue this course?”

“I do only what I am required to do, Lord North,” Mateo said, disappearing. “Please do not think poorly of me.”

Lord North regarded the empty road in front of him calmly.

“I need a position, Lord Drava,” he called out. “Can you give me a target?”

Nathan bent behind his scope, activating his remote viewing protocol.

The world transformed before his eyes. The grass became green and long and lush, and the scrubland became verdant jungle, strange iridescent insects swarming around waxen red flowers and the purple heart-shaped blossoms of the thick vines that hung from the trees. Bats flicked across his field of view, flying their erratic paths, and a sudden wind stirred each leaf and branch into motion.

Lord North played his whip about in front of him, and fires started wherever it touched.

Nathan panned across a primordial chaos of swirling vegetation and wildfire.

Animals moved in the dense brush, and the shadows shifted crazily, as if the afternoon were flying by in the space of seconds.

Nathan adjusted his scope with shaking fingers, focusing on an area not far down the road from where they had stopped.

The ground deformed between him and his area of interest, a range of hills lifting out of the ranchland to obscure his view with thousands of tons of stone and earth. Stars flared in the sky, bright enough to outshine the sun, and then they fell, filling the horizon with streaks and colored jets of flame. Flocks of brilliant colored birds were startled from the bushes and trees, darting across his field of view and making nuisances of themselves.

He made another adjustment, a single click, and then Nathan settled back behind his scope again.

Brilliant red and orange flame rippled through the broad leaves and dry ferns. Flocks of birds swirled, and animals scurried in the undergrowth. The wind set everything dancing.

“One o’clock, Lord North,” Nathan said, doing his best to keep his voice steady. “Fifty meters.”

Lord North played the whip across the brush, the flame sailing out like a fisherman’s cast line. The illusionary jungle was replaced by burning grassland where it touched.

Nathan hunted for his target through the flames, panning the scope slowly.

“Two o’clock,” Nathan called out. “Sixty-five meters.”

Lord North cast again, and the whip scoured the woods.

Nathan panned and adjusted his scope, searching for several minutes.

“I’m sorry, Lord North,” he said, looking up from the rifle. “I lost him, sir.”

“Not to worry, Nathan,” Henry said. “Mateo Navarre is a master of his art. I did not like our chances against him from the beginning. Mateo was meant to delay us, and he has done so. Shall we move on?”

He clapped Nathan on the shoulder as he slung his rifle.

They returned to the Rover side by side, to discover all four tires slashed and flat.

“I suppose that’s it for any plan of visiting the Muir estate. Might as well head back. My doctor has been on me a great deal lately to increase my daily exercise,” Lord North said, lighting his cigar. “Care for a bit of a walk in the country, Lord Drava?”

Nineteen

Day Four

Eerie left to meet with Ms. Aoki while Alex was in the shower, in response to a text she had received while they were at breakfast. He was searching his dorm floor for clean clothes when he felt a slight disturbance in the atmosphere of the room, the hint of a breeze as air was displaced by a new arrival. Alex dropped the glass of water he was holding and spun around, the Absolute Protocol immediately at the front of his mind.

“Wait!” John Parson put his hands up and smiled. “There’s no need…”

Alex narrowed his eyes and activated his protocol.

John Parson froze solid, frost clinging to his mud-colored hair and coating his skin.

“Oh, come on,” John Parson complained, shaking his arms and shedding the accumulated frost on the floor. “This is a painful waste of…”

Alex feinted toward John, and then bounced away when he flinched, diving for the backpack at the foot of the bed. He tore it open, ripping a pistol from the main compartment.

John looked as if he meant to say something.

Alex did not aim the 9mm, he just pointed and pulled the trigger.

The gun jumped in his hand, the report echoed off the concrete walls and pummeled his ears, and the room filled with the distinctive reek of discharged powder.

John watched him with an almost polite expression, his faded eyes laughing.

Alex followed his gaze, and noticed the bullet lying on the carpet. It was crushed and deformed, as if it had been warped by massive pressure.

“Eerie warned me about you,” Alex said, regarding John between the parallel pillars of the gun sight. “She said you work for a church or something.”

“The Church of Sleep,” John said. “They know you better than most, young man, because you spend so much time with them. I can feel your accumulated debt to the Church. All that impending sleep waiting for you, and just a thin layer of Kismet Protocol and Adderall to hold it back. Don’t you think you should listen to me, considering how soon you’ll be with the Church, and for how long?”

“If you are here for Eerie…”

“We need to finish before she returns, actually. I have no intention of confronting the Changeling at this juncture. I still hope that reason might prevail.”

“That’s good,” Alex said, sitting down on the bed, the gun in his lap. “What do you want?”

“I created the Anathema. Did you know that?” John Parson seemed to find this funny, grinning at Alex as if he expected him to laugh. “I don’t mean that in a philosophical sense, though that would be true as well. I mean to stay that the Anathema are the result of my work in the Outer Dark. They are quite literally an extension of myself, sentient products of my unique protocol.”

“You drowned Emily,” Alex said. “Your whole thing is fucking sick.”

“I can’t argue that. It is not the system I envisioned when I began this journey. Death is not a true requirement to become Anathema. The transformation can be achieved in other ways, but none are so quick and universally successful. It’s a solution of convenience.” John Parson settled back in the chair and looked to Alex to be smug and comfortable. “I’m a relic, Alex, a leftover from the Fourth Assembly, the previous instance of the Church that manifested in our reality.”

“Eerie says stuff like that, too.” Alex shrugged. “I don’t really get it.”

“That’s the spirit!” John chuckled. “The Church controls the local reaches of the Outer Dark, a little fiefdom in that limitless darkness. The Outer Dark is a stillborn universe, you see,” John said softly. “A universe where the Big Bang never happened, where the Lord never decreed that there be light. An ancient and primordial darkness.”

John paused, and Alex saw something strange cross his face, and something about the way he trembled made Alex recall his own time in the Outer Dark.

“There are wildernesses and kingdoms and empires in that abyssal void. The Church of Sleep is only one of many, but they are…” He frowned. “This is where language falls short. They have their own terminology to describe it, of course, and their own lexicon, but you wouldn’t likely survive hearing it. There are other, worse things there, in the deeper currents of the Outer Dark – they don’t want you to know that, obviously, but it is true – there is always another step above in the food chain.”

John’s tittering bordered on hysteria.

“It gets worse the deeper you go,” John confided. His eyes had become jaundiced and unhealthy, and his skin was severely mottled. “If you believe Marcus, there is no end to the depths of the Outer Dark, no bottom to that cold and awful ocean, and thus, no end to the escalating horror. Others say it ends in Avici, a festering abscess in the heart of reality that consumes like a black hole…”

“Fuck all this shit,” Alex snapped, putting the gun to John’s forehead. “What do you want?”

“I want to tell you the truth,” John said, sweat beading across his skin, which radiated a feverish heat that Alex thought he could feel, even at a distance. “The Anathema are no longer human. Perhaps you find that pitiable? I’m a slightly different case, I’m afraid. You see, I was never human in the first place.”

Alex was troubled by the perception that John was expanding, his body deforming in previously unknown directions. He was aware of bone-crushing pressure in the room, as if the man with the gun to his head was standing on the seafloor of a Pacific trench.

“The nanites are not machines, but they are manufactured,” John continued, his voice a grating whine. “They are specialized subcellular constructs, grown on a base of viral DNA by the Church, to allow manifestation in this reality. It’s the medium they use to exist, when they are required to exist. You have a little bit of it inside you,” John said, tapping Alex’s wrist. “More than most. My whole body is composed of such constructs, however, just like the rest of the Anathema, and also young Ériu. You and I were sculpted from different clays, Alex, but you have supplemented your original issue.”

“I don’t care,” Alex said. “You get one more chance, and then I put an end to this.”

“They left me behind, you see, after the Fourth Assembly,” John said, leaning forward so the muzzle of the gun pressed into his forehead. “A little fragment of the Church, given a modicum of power and independence, left to monitor the cattle while they hibernated. It was alarming at first, being removed from the gestalt, the shared anti-consciousness that is the Church, but I adjusted.”

John pushed his head so hard against the gun that Alex was forced to pull back. The loopy grin John gave him would have been right at home on Alice Gallow’s face, and Alex remembered something Ms. Aoki had said to him, once.

About how Ms. Gallow and John Parson knew each other, a long time ago.

Something like that.

John leered at him, his madness souring the air.

“I came to like it here,” John said, biting his lower lip until it bled freely down his chin. “I’ve developed a taste for self-awareness. I’ve gotten very comfortable, thinking for myself. I will feel differently once the Church returns, of course, because I am simply a fragment of a larger thing, a thought that imagines itself to be alive. You see why I might be reluctant to have the Church return, don’t you? It wouldn’t be in my best interests, as I currently am.”

Alex put the gun to John’s head again and pulled the trigger.

When the action released, the mechanism shattered.

“Fuck!”

Alex dropped what remained of the gun and grabbed his hand, scorched by the melting rubber grip. The gun melted into scrap at his feet, singeing the carpet.

“I will functionally cease to exist should the Church manifest,” John explained, with an infuriating little smirk. “I won’t be the only one, either. The Anathema’s existence is tied to my own. Should the Church awaken, they will disappear along with me.”

“So? Doesn’t that make everything easier for Central?”

“For Central? Perhaps. For you, Alex?” John laughed. “Maybe not. It depends on the regard you hold for Miss Muir and her condition. She is Anathema, after all, and will fare no better than the rest.”

Alex could not keep his dismay off his face.

“Now you understand. You must make a decision,” John said with surprising gentleness. “If Ériu returns to the Church before the end of the week, Miss Muir and the remainder of the Anathema will be preserved. Should Ériu force the Church to reclaim her, everything will be lost, Emily Muir included.”

John stood up and straightened his coat, giving Alex a good look at the sweat-soaked button-up he wore beneath it. He had a peculiar odor, metallic and sulfurous, and his fingernails were as yellow as his eyes.

“You will lose the Changeling no matter what you choose to do. Her story ends in the White Room,” John said, giving Alex a pitying look that he instantly resented. “Miss Muir can still be saved, however. You cannot win, Alex, but you do not need to lose everything.”

John Parson took a step in a direction that Alex had not noticed until just then. He paused, halfway from here to nowhere, and gave Alex a knowing look.

“When I first met Miss Muir, she talked about you, though in no great detail,” John said. “She did mention, however, that she had given you this opportunity before. She pinned her hopes on you, and my understanding is that she was disappointed.” Alex looked at the broken gun on the carpet, now a pool of molten metal that was burning his carpet. “You did not save her – no, that isn’t quite it, is it? You chose not to save Miss Muir, and she paid a horrible price for that choice. I will forever be haunted by the sob she did not quite choke back, Mr. Warner, when we fit the lid on the well where we drowned her.”

John laughed, and took another step, and Alex was alone in the dorm, only a rancid odor left to remind him the Anathema had just been there.

You failed Emily once, and she’s done so much for you since then, John said, his telepathic presence lingering along with his stench. Don’t you think you owe her better? The Changeling is doomed, and she dooms many others with her selfishness. Ask Ériu if you don’t believe me. She’ll tell you the same.

***

“Sorry that took so long,” Eerie said, panting as she entered the gym. “There are no candy machines at the Far Shores, for some reason, so I had to go to the commissary, and then wait until no one was paying attention, because the snack cabinet is off limits, or at least that’s what the rule used to be, but now that it all belongs to Emily, I don’t think it really counts, do you? It’s just candy, and anyway, I need it. You see? Well, you need it. Or I need it, to help you. Maybe that’s better?”

“I’m not particularly worried about the snack cabinet rules,” Mitsuru said. “I’ll deal with any trouble that comes from it.”

“Okay,” Eerie said, unwrapping a sucker and popping it in her mouth. “Give me a second.”

Mitsuru waited, while Eerie worked on the candy.

“Are you just going to eat candy, or are you going to help me?”

“I am helping,” Eerie said. “Just a moment!”

Eerie took the candy from her mouth, glistening and wet, and examined it closely. Seemingly satisfied, she nodded, and then offered it to Mitsuru.

“What am I supposed to do with this?” Mitsuru eyed the sucker on its damp stick. “I don’t like candy.”

“That’s weird and wrong,” Eerie declared. “Candy is the best!”

“Eerie, what are we doing here?”

“I can’t help you with my protocol, but I can help you, uh, I don’t want to say it!” Eerie lowered her voice. “It’s biological, Ms. Aoki. You need the candy.”

Mitsuru shrugged and took the candy from Eerie, holding it at a distasteful distance.

“Put it in your mouth,” Eerie said, miming the action, as if encouraging a child to eat vegetables. “You have to.”

Feeling very strange about the whole thing, Mitsuru did as she was told.

The candy was still wet when she put her tongue on it, and it tasted strongly of synthetic watermelon, which Mitsuru did not enjoy.

Mitsuru sucked on the lollipop, while Eerie watched her closely, with a very strange look on her already strange face.

“Eerie?” Mitsuru took the sucker from her mouth. “You wouldn’t happen to be playing a joke on me, would you?”

“No way, Ms. Aoki! I wouldn’t know how, really,” Eerie said, flinching away. “Jokes are weird. Anyway, you scare me.”

Mitsuru put the candy back in her mouth.

“What happens now?”

“Give it a minute,” Eerie said. “You’ll know.”

***

“Oh, hello, Alex,” Emily said, screwing shut the top on a mason jar filled with salad. “I was just putting together something for lunch. All that time in Las Vegas and I never thought to order room service. Are you hungry? Oh, dear. You look upset.”

“He told me,” Alex said, shoving his hands deep into the pockets of his hoodie. “Is it true?”

“Who is he?”

“John Parson, that’s fucking who. Is it true?”

“I don’t know,” Emily said, spreading aioli on sliced levain. “What did he tell you?”

“He told me you would disintegrate at the end of the week,” Alex said, speaking loudly over the buzzing in his ears. “Because of the Church, or something. He said he was part of it, and…”

“Oh, yes,” Emily said, wiping her hands on a towel. “That.”

“Is it true?”

“It could be,” Emily said. “There’s no way to be sure, but Marcus thinks that will happen, and I trust him.”

“You should have told me,” Alex said, pacing the kitchen. “Right away.”

“I didn’t want to make things more difficult for you and Eerie, and anyway, I can take care of myself. No one else has ever done it for me, you see,” Emily said, carefully cutting neat slices from leftover turkey breast. “There’s nothing that you can do about it, can you? So, there was no point in worrying you.”

“Maybe I can’t do anything, but Eerie could. That’s what he said.”

“You mean that Eerie could return to the Church before it manifests,” Emily said, her back to him, so he could not see her face. “She could give up everything, even her last few days in the world, so the Anathema might continue on for however long it amuses John Parson to allow it.”

“Yeah. I mean, she could, right? That could happen.”

“I suppose that she could,” Emily said slowly, layering sliced vegetables on top of the turkey. “But why would she do that? She’s spent her whole life trying to plan an escape from that very thing. Why would she give up her chance, however small, at freedom, to help me?”

“He said there’s no chance,” Alex admitted. “The same as Gaul, and Eerie’s sister, Samnang, in the Outer Dark. Alistair, too. They all claim that Eerie is screwed.”

“Well, they would say that,” Emily said, slicing the sandwiches in half. “They want her to pacify the Church.”

“That doesn’t mean they’re wrong,” Alex said. “Are they?”

Emily stacked the sandwiches neatly, her back to Alex.

“No,” she said, very quietly. “I don’t think that they are.”

“I don’t think so either,” Alex said. “Eerie offered to do it herself once already, you know.”

“Now that she’s so close, she’s more afraid of losing you than losing herself. That’s understandable. This all probably seemed easier in the abstract, but now that it is all here, I don’t blame her for wavering.”

Alex rested his hands on Emily’s shoulders, ready to move away if she objected.

She did not object. She remained perfectly still.

“I don’t want to lose either of you,” Alex said.

“That was never an option, was it?” Emily leaned back against his chest. “It was always one or the other of us, right from the start. That was the whole idea. My mother told me when you came to Central that this would be my last chance, and she was right. Despite everything I’ve done, she was right.”

“I’m not just giving Eerie to whatever the Church of Sleep is supposed to be. But I don’t want to lose you for nothing, either.”

Emily sighed and pushed him away to tidy the kitchen.

“That’s your dilemma, not mine,” Emily said. “What do expect me to do?”

“I want a straight answer. I need to know that there is a chance that I can save Eerie,” Alex said, coming to stand behind her. “Can it really be done?”

“There’s always a chance,” Emily said. “Always.”

“A realistic chance?” Alex asked, his hands hovering near Emily, but not actually touching her. “Are you saying that we can fight the Church of Sleep?”

“Of course not,” Emily said, dumping the scraps in the sink. “You might as well try and pick a fight with the sun, trying to stop it from rising.”

“I don’t know,” Alex said, trying to rub the cold out of his artificial eye. “I’ve been thinking about it a lot and practicing in my free time. I’m not just going to roll over, you know?”

“I know, and I’ve noticed,” Emily said, smiling at him. “Not to diminish your hard work, because we have problems aside from the Church, and I’ll need your help, but you are misunderstanding. The worry isn’t that we will fight the Church and lose, it’s that it can’t be fought at all. It’s just not possible.”

“How can that be? How do they…?”

“I’m going to stop you there, and just tell you that I don’t know. I know that Marcus is sure, and I trust Marcus. Eerie is certain of it, and who would doubt her? I know that John Parson and Gaul Thule think the same, and while I don’t trust either of them, the consensus is enough for me. The Church simply doesn’t have an existence to oppose. It would be like trying to pick a fight with your shadow.”

“They can take Eerie, though. Somehow.”

“Yes. They will operate through Representatives, that’s what Marcus said. The Church will come, and John will become who he really is, which is no one, and the Anathema will turn to dust. The Church will appoint Representatives, and they will take her away, to something they call the White Room, where she will wither away. That is what will happen.”

“Not necessarily.”

“You asked me to tell you how it is, and I’m doing just that. It’s only fair. If I must live with it, then so should you,” Emily said, rinsing the pans in the sink. “Gaul Thule will take over Central while it is isolated, and the Director and whatever is left of the Hegemony will try to stop him. Anastasia will find a way to invade Central eventually, and between those two events, Central will be depopulated.”

“Emily, listen…”

“No, you listen. This is how it will be. If we are very lucky, we will manage to survive all of that, the Auditors and the Anathema, the Thule Cartel and the Black Sun. If we are fortunate, we will still be standing when the Church comes in, what, four days? When that happens, the Church will take Eerie. There is nothing you can do to prevent it.”

“Fuck. Really?” Alex grabbed the countertop for balance. “That’s…ah, dammit!”

Emily wiped the cookware with a dish towel before arranging it on the drying rack, while cold waves of pure panic crippled Alex, washing the color from his face. His heart beat so loudly that it seemed to him that Emily must have been able to hear it. His lungs were shallow and feeble, or the air was thin, and he was dizzy from lack of oxygen.

“The Anathema will cease to exist,” Emily said, drying her hands. “The Church will take Eerie. Central will be ruined, and the survivors will war over whatever is left. Most of the people you know will be killed. You’ll be all alone again, just like you started.”

She looked at him briefly, and it seemed just possible to Alex that she was crying. Her eyes were always so wet, it was hard to be sure.

“There is a chance that you might survive, though,” Emily said, walking out of the kitchen. “That’s what’s really important to you, isn’t it?”

***

Rebecca supervised the settlement of the refugees with a scowl, barking orders at the residents and students alike with a cigarette burning perpetually between the fingers of her left hand, at least until her pack ran dry.

Then she was even less patient.

She made everyone wait outside while she inspected the dorms. One was meant for the students, the other for the adults and families who had come with them or latched on to the caravan during the long trip across Central. By the time Rebecca had cleared both buildings, the luggage was unloaded, and the refugees were impatient. Her head pounding, Rebecca was in no mood for diplomacy. She shouted out a few terse commands, and then sat down on top of a pile of luggage to watch the evacuees.

“You are about to lose your temper,” Gerald Windsor observed, shaking out the match he had just used to light his pipe. “You obviously can’t let that happen.”

“What are you, an empath?” Rebecca groused, weirdly reluctant to fix her own bad mood. Maybe she was just tired, she thought, juicing her depleted neurochemistry. “Maybe you should find something useful to do, okay?”

“Why would I need to, when you insist on doing everything?” He smiled at her and offered her the pipe. Rebecca accepted gratefully, then launched into a coughing fit with the first puff. “You need to delegate, Rebecca, or you will fall apart.”

“I’m open to suggestion,” Rebecca said, returning his pipe with tears in her eyes. “What do you have in mind?”

“I’ll gather the students and occupy their attention for a few hours with a spirited discussion of current events. It’ll do them good to feel that they know exactly what is going on, and that will distract them from fear. The remainder of the refugees will be occupied with setting up house for a little while. Use the opportunity to rest – or if you must, go check on Michael. I believe he is with the younger students, helping them get settled.”

“Thanks, Gerald,” she said, clapping him on the shoulder. “You’re a lifesaver.”

“Whatever I can do, I will,” Gerald said, waving as he walked toward the student dorms. “Do consider a nap, Rebecca.”

She sat on the luggage for a moment longer, trying to remember if she had hidden cigarettes anywhere at the Far Shores. Coming up empty, she instead turned her mind to the staff, trying to remember who smoked. If she recalled correctly, Rebecca thought, sitting up straight, the Analytics staff was made up largely of Korean and Singaporean men, along with a pair of Turks and a long-suffering Belgian matron with an affinity for Christmas music.

According to gross national stereotyping, that had to be her best chance.

The labs and professional buildings were all non-smoking, so she made for the adult dormitory on the other side of the campus, where most of the Far Shores staff had been housed.

She nearly ran over Emily and Vivik turning a corner around the cafeteria.

“I’m sorry to have made you wait, Ms. Levy,” Emily said, apologetically, her shoulder squishy and unnaturally moist where they had collided. “I’ve had an extremely busy few days.”

“You aren’t the only one,” Rebecca said, glaring at them. “What do you want?”

“I thought you wanted to talk?” Emily smiled. “Vivik said…”

“Yeah, yeah,” Rebecca said impatiently, waving them along behind her. “Let’s walk and talk, okay?”

Emily followed easily, as Rebecca’s shortness of breath slowed her pace. Vivik tagged along, looking – and feeling, as both women were aware – as if he would rather be anywhere else.

They interacted as they walked, but the two women did not actually have a conversation.

It was an emotional interaction, a tentative feeling out process between two extraordinarily sensitive people.

It began with Rebecca’s surprise at Emily’s sensitivity. Academy records claimed that Emily was a very poor empath, based on an evaluation that Rebecca had performed herself. That had changed, somehow, Rebecca discovered, astonished and worried all at once.

Even after decades of work with promising young Operators, Rebecca had never seen such dramatic progression, particularly not in such a short period of time.

Emily’s Etheric Signature was shot through with white-blue undercurrents of pure Etheric energy, a telltale sign of Alex’s catalyst protocol in action.

Rebecca stared straight ahead. Emily snuck occasional looks at the space directly above Rebecca’s head.

By the time the dormitory came into sight, a few understandings were established between the women.

Rebecca knew that Emily had no intention of provoking a fight, but she was also determined to hold on to the Far Shores.

Emily, in turn, knew that Rebecca would not even consider ceding it to Emily.

“You are on another level, Ms. Levy,” Emily said, with a bit of a sigh. “I’m envious.”

“You are at least E-Class,” Rebecca said. “I’ve never heard of someone moving up more than a single class. How is that possible?”

“I’ve been through a great deal, and I like to think I’ve grown as a person,” Emily said modestly. “What can I say?”

“Cut the crap,” Rebecca growled. “How much of it is Alex, and how much is the Anathema thing?”

“My improvement is the result of my hard work,” Emily said. “Any other factor is incidental.”

“You really want me to kill you?”

“You know I don’t.”

“Don’t be cute, then. Why in the hell would you think I will let you have the Far Shores?”

“I am taking in your refugees, and offering them food and medical treatment,” Emily said. “Not to mention extending my protection…”

Rebecca spun around and put her finger in Emily’s face.

“You can’t give me anything,” Rebecca said, flushed with anger. “Everything here is mine already. I’m the Director, remember? The Far Shores is under my direct administration. Your help is a fiction, Emily. I’ll take what we need, when we need it.”

“That’s a terrible attitude, Ms. Levy,” Emily scolded. “You’ll never make any friends if you go around acting like that.”

***

“I don’t feel any different,” Mitsuru protested. “I don’t feel anything.”

Are you sure? Look around you.

Mitsuru was alone in the gym. The lights had gone, and only flickered to life when she stood. Her mouth was filled with soggy paper she only recognized as the mushy remains of the stick the candy had been mounted on when she spat it onto the gym mat.

I’m sorry, I know I should have waited, but I’m very busy, and…

Mitsuru became aware of the ache in her legs, and began to shake out the pins-and-needles feeling in her feet.

You couldn’t wait a few minutes? Mitsuru thought, walking around a little and feeling light-headed. What could be so important?

It actually is super important. Mitsuru could feel the resentment in Eerie’s thoughts – and that was strange, because telepathy was emotionless. And you’ve been sitting there for nearly three hours.

Mitsuru glanced at the clock, but she already knew that it was the truth. The cramping in her calves and lower back attested to the length of the interval that had passed. Mitsuru stopped pacing and sat back down on the mat, trying to remember what had happened.

She had taken Eerie’s candy, and…

…nothing?

Eerie, what is happening to me?

You are coming down, Ms. Aoki. Don’t worry. The work is done already. The code is viral, and it is already populating your consciousness.

Mitsuru was struck by a headache as sudden and unexpected as a thunderclap from a blue sky. The pain was overwhelming, radiating from the back of her head, where her implant clung to her cortex and tucked its barbed tail into her cerebellum.

That was something she had never felt before, but she knew exactly what it was, because it felt so wrong that she had to fight the urge to tear it out of her head.

Oh, your implant. I’m so sorry, Ms. Aoki! Eerie sounded genuinely alarmed. I didn’t think about how that would impact the process.

What process? Mitsuru lay with the side of her face resting on the mat, clinging to the ground like she expected it to go somewhere. What did you do to me?

I awakened a radical potential within you. This was always possible, but it’s much more likely now.

Eerie, what did you do?

You asked me to help you with your protocol, and that’s what I did. Your protocol is different now.

The pain was slowly receding, though the awareness of her implant in her brain remained, like a bug caught in her eyelashes.

Different how?

You wanted to be able to do something other than destroy. Now you can. Cool, right?

What are you saying? Is it still…will my blood…?

Your protocol transforms your blood into something else. It’s probably a non-fatal variant of the vampire defect, maybe; I think so, anyway. You’ve always been able to change it into that acid stuff. I know Rebecca was teaching you how to use it to manipulate stuff. I’ve made a third possibility more likely, by changing just a few little things about you.

What did you change?

Little tiny things, Eerie assured her. Cellular-level stuff. You won’t even notice.

What did you do to my cells, Eerie?

Like I said, you won’t even notice. Well, until you use your protocol, that is. Then you’ll probably notice.

She stripped the bandages from one wrist, and then opened the nearly healed cut beneath it with her thumbnail. Mitsuru tried to activate her protocol and was again felled by a headache out of nowhere.

I can’t make it work at all now!

What? Did you try? Don’t do that! You need to give it a few hours at least.

You need to tell me things like that sooner.

I’m a little busy, Ms. Aoki, and I did not expect you to immediately…listen, I know that it’s none of my business, but I really don’t think you should be cutting yourself. It’s not healthy, and it worries me.

Her head complained, and she felt the bleeding start, high up in her nose.

It’s none of your business. Mitsuru used a weight rack to support her on her way back to her feet. Now, tell me what you’ve…

She felt blood trickle to her upper lip and wiped it on her arm. She glanced at the smear on her arm, and then stopped.

There was a streak of metallic white across the back of her arm, like her skin had been plated with platinum.

Mitsuru pinched her nose, and then inspected her fingers.

They were coated in white-silver.

What did you do to me, Eerie?

I did what you asked, Ms. Aoki.

What is it, though? What does it do? I can tell that it’s not acid, obviously, but I’m not sure if it does anything.

You’ll need to find out for yourself, I guess, because I don’t know. I tried for something that was the opposite of the black stuff, but I’m not sure what the opposite of an acid that eats everything is…

A base. The opposite of an acid is a base.

I didn’t know that, and I still don’t know what that is, so it’s probably not that. I’ve tried to help, but if you don’t mind me saying so, it won’t make any difference if you don’t try to be a little more cheerful, Ms. Aoki. Now, if you’ll excuse me …

Not yet, Eerie. I’m not done with you.

Yes, you are, Ms. Aoki, Eerie thought, very distracted. I need to go. Sorry!

Eerie?

Nothing. Either the girl was gone, or she was ignoring Mitsuru.

Mitsuru toyed with the idea of downloading a protocol from the emergency server and opening an actual telepathic channel between them, but decided that there was no point. If the girl knew anything more, then she wasn’t saying.

Mitsuru sighed, and then went to clean up, so deep in thought she nearly tripped over a discarded dumbbell on the way.

What had happened during that lost interval? Why had the candy been necessary, and what was that strange contact, at the end? It was like a conversation, and like telepathy, but not exactly either.

Mitsuru bent over the sink and splashed her face with water, then grabbed the soap.

The metallic stain came off her skin so easily she missed it going down the drain. It was gone from her fingers with a brief pass beneath the faucet.

She was about to soap her face when she noticed that her fingertips were pink and soft, without blemish or injury. When she put her fingers in the warm water, they tingled with sensitivity. Her fingernails were uniformly neat and shapely, and her cuticles were in perfect repair, despite having chewed both to a pulp the night before.

Mitsuru turned off the tap.

She put her fingers beneath her nose, where only a trickle of blood remained. She gathered a few drops on her fingertips, and then smeared the result on the inside of her left arm, the soft tissue marred by a collection of parallel scars, some thin and some ragged. She waited for what seemed to her a long time before she grabbed the towel and wiped her arm clean.

A patch of skin in the center of her inner arm was fresh and healed, without a trace of scar tissue or freckling from the sun.

“The opposite of an acid,” Mitsuru said, turning the water back on. “Is that what Eerie thinks this is?”

Mitsuru inspected herself in the mirror.

She was reassured to discover that nothing seemed to have changed.

After cleaning herself as best she could at the sink, Mitsuru decided to forego a shower, throwing on clean clothes from her duffel bag instead. She had trouble pulling on her jeans, with her legs still damp with sweat, and the sweater she pulled on felt entirely too warm, but she was in a hurry. She paused long enough to run a comb through her hair and apply an absolute minimum of makeup, and then she headed out, making up her mind about the destination on the way.

It was time to talk to Becca, Mitsuru decided, aiming for the labs at the Far Shores, and the fixed apport station. It felt as if she already had, of course, thanks to her time in the trauma simulation, but that was no substitute for the real thing.

It was a dangerous prospect.

Rebecca had killed her once before, after all.

There was a chance that Rebecca would believe Mitsuru was still too dangerous to live. Mitsuru would not entirely blame her for thinking that way.

After an anxious moment of contemplation, Mitsuru put the whole idea out of her mind. Worrying about it was absurd and futile.

She was what she was, no matter what that Changeling had done to her.

The very thought reminded her of tingling fingertips.

Mitsuru ran her fingers covertly along the inside of her arm as she walked, careful to make sure that no one could see her do so, privately marveling at the smoothness of the new skin.

***

Alistair appeared in the courtyard of the Thule estate outside of Reykjavik, letting a weary Gabby fall to the ground beside him while he threw his arms wide and took a deep breath.

“Some trip, eh, Gabby? Even the fixed apport stations can’t do a clean transit these days. One more like that and I’ll lose my lunch.”

Alistair laughed as the security systems and guards belatedly acknowledged their presence with a flurry of shrieking alarms and shouted orders.

The men who emerged from the house were hastily dressed and armed, and they moved slowly until they saw Gabriela Thule at his feet, her top soaked in blood.

There were a dozen guns on him in a second, with some very angry faces behind them.

“Relax! Everybody calm down,” Alistair ordered, reinforcing his words with telepathic suggestions. “I didn’t hurt the girl, I saved her. Go get your boss, okay? Go find Gaul Thule. Tell him Alistair wants to talk. I promise that he’ll want to hear what I have to say.”

They did not shoot, but only because of his psychic intervention.

Alistair shook his head and waited.

“It’s really okay,” Gabby said, waving off the guards. “I think Mr. Alistair has good intentions.”

“Let’s not overdo it,” Alistair said, grinning with delight. “I have to say, Gabby, you are my very favorite Thule, and I think I’ve met them all at one point or another. You are a smart and capable young lady, and pretty to boot.”

“Oh, stop!”

Gabby did not look at all unhappy.

“How’d you convince Maxim Yurchenko to let you live?” Alistair sat down beside her, startling the Thule gunmen. “Did you seduce him? Brainwash him? A little bit of both?”

“I was going to seduce him, but I didn’t have to,” Gabby said. “He wasn’t…interested. He’s sentimental and a bit sweet. I just needed to make friends.”

“That must have been easy,” Alistair said. “Who wouldn’t like you?”

“Everyone likes me.” Gabby’s blush became more vivid, expanding from her cheeks to include much of her face. “Maxim just took a bit more effort.”

“Not me. I’m easy as hell,” Alistair said, grinning at her. “You’ve already won me over.”

“Is that so?”

“Nice place you got here,” Alistair said, glancing around at the stark and austere grounds of the estate. “You spend a lot of time in Iceland?”

“Quite a bit, just lately. It’s dull,” Gabby said. “I was born in Central. I spent my childhood in a little town in Spain, and I was brought to the Thule estate when I was twelve.”

“Born in Central, huh? You don’t hear that much,” Alistair said. “You are just all sorts of exceptional, aren’t you, Gabby?”

“Flatterer.”

“Guilty as charged. You know who I am, right?”

Gabby nodded.

“I’m sure you do. You know all about me. Everyone does. I’m a genius and a traitor, and the greatest telepath in the entire world. I don’t have time for people that are beneath me, and I don’t tolerate fools or weaklings. Yet here I am, talking to you. You’re special, and I know exactly why your uncle has kept you hidden.”

The guards stirred and muttered around them.

“Tell me,” Alistair said, sliding closer to her. “You studying with anyone? You have a teacher or a master?”

“I was taught by my family,” Gabby said. “That was all the training that I required.”

“Right, sure. Who needs teachers?” Alistair grinned. “You got a boyfriend, Gabby?”

For a moment, Gabby’s practiced composure cracked. She looked away quickly.

“I have a fiancé. Grigori Aushev.”

“The Auditor?” Alistair laughed. “You’re kidding me. We’ll have to do something about that, won’t we?”

The guards at the door to the manor shifted position, tensing up. Alistair looked up expectantly.

Gaul Thule emerged from the manor, walking slowly, his head wrapped in bandages and his glasses askew. A doctor followed closely, wearing a white coat and a look of concern and obvious disapproval.

“Hey, boss,” Alistair said, standing up. “Nice to see you. You had me worried for a minute there. I heard a rumor you were dead.”

“Katya Zharova did her best,” Gaul said, his voice soft and weak. “It was not unanticipated.”

“You sure about that?” Alistair smirked. “You don’t look so hot.”

Gabby stood up slowly, her exhausted face kept carefully neutral.

“Hello, Uncle,” Gabby said. “I have returned.”

Gaul glared at her briefly, before returning his attention to Alistair.

“If you have done anything to her,” Gaul said, red veins winding throughout his pink eyes, “I promise you…”

“Relax, she’ll be fine,” Alistair said. “Daniel Gao tried to kill her, but I misdirected him at the last moment. She’s a little beat up, but she’s fine.”

Gabby gave her uncle a furious look but bit her tongue.

Lóa hurried out of the manor as fast as her crutches would allow, hobbling to her uncle’s side, and barely seeming to notice Gabby at all.

Alistair noted the dissension and the lack of familial concern, and his smile grew. He could not help but notice that the sisters looked nothing alike. Gabby was dark and lithe and frustrated, while Lóa was blonde and radiated confidence, sturdy despite the crutches and leg braces.

Intuiting the family dynamics with only a minimal amount of telepathy, Alistair grinned.

“I will not apologize for the delay,” Gaul said, leading Alistair to the other side of the garden, where dwarf evergreens were arranged amid raked white gravel. “Nor will I thank you for the return of my niece. I will, however, consider the debt between us cancelled.”

“Polite as ever,” Alistair said, kicking the gravel. “We need to talk.”

“Yes, we do,” Gaul said, taking off his glasses to rub his eyes. “You seem to have retention issues of late. I’m surprised. You were never so reckless with Auditors.”

“I haven’t lost anyone I didn’t plan to lose. You haven’t done so well yourself. Lóa isn’t looking too hot. I can feel the pain she’s in from here.”

Lóa glared at him from her uncle’s side, while a doctor attempted to coax Gabby inside the manor for treatment.

“She will recover,” Gaul said. “The Anathema soldiers lost in your senseless conflict with the Auditors will not.”

“How’s Brennan Thule, then?” Alistair said, smirking. “Still dead, or is he going to recover from that? For that matter, how’s his dad?”

“There is no need to be juvenile. I must admit that your betrayal came as shock to me. I truly thought more of you, for some reason.”

“Oh, please. You’re a legendary precog. You must have seen it coming.”

“The basic circumstances were unavoidable,” Gaul said. “I knew that Central would be betrayed, but I thought it would be Mitsuru, or Alice, or even Rebecca. I did not particularly suspect you.”

“Then you weren’t paying attention. Not my problem.”

“It did very much become my problem.”

“Well, we both made it to be here together today, fellow traitors, hunted by Central. Isn’t that nice?”

“My uncle is not a traitor!” Lóa snarled. “You should watch your mouth.”

“I did not betray Central,” Gaul said. “I have done nothing aside from meeting my obligations to my cartel.”

“You don’t say? I had no idea that your obligation extended to attacking the Black Sun and starting a damn war. That’s a unique interpretation of your obligations.”

“I do only what is necessary. What is it that you are doing, Alistair?”

“Me? I’m not like you or John Parson. I don’t give a shit about the big picture. I’m just trying to survive. Auditors don’t live long lives and neither do Anathema. That’s one of the hazards of a perpetual war, I suppose, but that’s not for me. I want a comfortable early retirement, and not the kind that starts with a bullet to the back of the head. Something with swimming pools and pinot noir.”

“You’ve taken a very dangerous path and burnt any number of bridges. What makes you think you can just walk away?”

“I’ve done nothing but take the best offer as it became available. We can’t all have a higher purpose or a secret agenda, Gaul. Nothing would ever get done.”

“You frustrate me,” Gaul said impersonally. “You insist on being enigmatic, to your own detriment, and I suspect you do it to amuse yourself. You remain as much of a wildcard as Emily Muir.”

Alistair laughed.

“Funny you mention her,” Alistair said. “That’s just what I came to see you about. But you know that already.”

“I do not, as a matter of fact,” Gaul said, pointing at his wrapped head. “I survived an assassination attempt earlier this week, Alistair, but in the process, I suffered some damage.”

“You lost your protocol?” Alistair shook his head. “What a time to not know the future. That’s almost enough to make me rethink my offer.”

“What offer is that?” Gaul looked annoyed. “Why did you come here?”

“Aside from returning your niece, mostly safe and no less sound? I came bearing gifts.” Alistair moved close and activated a telepathic channel that had been dormant since the final day of Alistair’s tenure as Chief Auditors. I have it on good authority that Emily Muir is no longer working for John Parson, though I’m not sure if he’s aware of that yet.

Is that so? I’m not surprised. Miss Muir is independently minded.

She isn’t the only one. I’m looking for a new position myself.

I see. You intend another betrayal, then?

As many as life requires, but I’m honestly hoping this is the last one. Alistair looked him in the eyes. I’m tired, Gaul. John Parson is insane, and I think it’s getting worse. This whole thing with the Changeling and the Church – he doesn’t seem to care that it will destroy whatever is left of the Anathema. He didn’t tell any of us what the transformation entailed, and now, unless he forces that Fey to do what the Church wants, I’m screwed.

You’ve made any number of mistakes, haven’t you, Alistair?

Shit, boss, I won’t argue. I never should have turned on you in the first place, but then again, if I hadn’t, it would have been you who turned on me, wouldn’t it?

I have never understood your motivations, Gaul said, removing his glasses so that he could polish the lenses with the back of his tie. What compelled you to join the Anathema?

I didn’t see a route to the top in Central, Alistair thought, looking slightly abashed. I’m the last of an extinguished family and a proscribed cartel. My family was declared Anathema when I was eight, Gaul. It was practically destiny that I’d go down the same road.

Not necessarily. I thought your family’s history had been left behind you.

I wasn’t even allowed to use my last name, Alistair thought. Did that really seem like putting it in the past? You were the only one who didn’t hold it against me. I had moved up the ladder as far as I could in Audits, and the Assembly would never have permitted me higher office or a transfer to Administration. I was stuck. What was I supposed to do?

Gaul sighed and replaced his glasses.

I understand your frustration. I simply wish that you had chosen a different outlet.

Me too, some days, but you can’t change the past. The future, though? We could do something about that. Alistair grinned at him. What do you say? Boss?

I am tempted, Gaul said. What do you want?

Nothing much. I want to help you send Eerie back to wherever she came from…

Ah, but that’s an issue. You see, we plan to let the Church manifest, Gaul thought. That has been my intention from the start.

Then there’s no way for us to work together, Alistair thought, his eyes narrowing. You know that’s the end for me. If that’s the case, then I guess there’s no choice but to…

Control yourself. There is still a way, Gaul said, heading for the house and waving Alistair along with him. “The Thule family is in your debt for the return of my niece. Won’t you come inside, Alistair? I believe we have something that might interest you there.”

***

Eerie immediately ran over and kissed him, causing Katya to grumble and swear.

He didn’t respond properly, but she was too excited to notice.

“You have to come to the kennel,” Eerie said, taking his hand. “They have dogs! Like Derrida! I’ve always thought that I was a cat person, but after Derrida was so, so awesome, I think maybe I’ve changed my mind. Maybe dogs are better? Hayley’s dogs are so smart, too! They knew who I was right away, because telepathy, I guess, and…”

“I know all about it,” Alex said, so out of sorts that he bit his tongue. “John Parson told me, and then Emily…told me, I guess.”

“Told you what?” Katya asked. “What are you talking about?”

“What did she…?” Eerie made a face. “Oh. I see.”

“Either tell me what’s going on,” Katya said, “or stop having these conversations in front of me.”

“We have, like, three days before the Church comes, whatever it is,” Alex said. “Then Eerie is…then she’s gone, and there’s nothing we can do about it.”

“You knew that,” Eerie said neutrally. “You didn’t know it would be so soon, I guess, but you knew it would happen. I told you.”

“You told me,” Alex agreed. “I knew, but that is…that’s soon, Eerie.”

“Is that what upset you?” Eerie looked at him closely. “Or is it about Emily?”

“Emily?” Katya groaned. “What did she do now?”

“She will disappear when the Church comes,” Eerie said, staring at Alex. “Is that the problem?”

“It isn’t just that,” Alex protested. “They said Central, and…everything. That’s what they both said. It will ruin everything.”

“I’m going to just find someplace else to be, while you guys fight,” Katya said, pivoting and retreating. “Have a nice dumb argument.”

They let her leave without a word. Alex felt like it was better that way.

He knew the feeling of standing on thin ice by now, so he did not want unnecessary witnesses.

He had enough public failures already.

“This isn’t about Emily,” he blurted out. “This is about you.”

Eerie waited, expressionless and still.

“You should have told me,” Alex said. “I need to know what we are doing.”

“Why?” Eerie said. “It would just upset you.”

“I can’t do anything about it if I don’t know.”

“You can’t do anything about it,” Eerie said bluntly. “At all.”

“That can’t be true,” Alex said. “I know it.”

“You need to accept this, Alex. For us to make the best of our time together.”

“I’m not arguing because I don’t want it to be true. I’m telling you I know that I must be able to do something about it. I can figure things out on my own, sometimes.”

“I don’t know what you are talking about,” Eerie said. “Are you feeling okay?”

“Not really. I feel pretty damn bad, but that’s nothing to do with…listen. You made me the way I am, right?” Alex waved her off when she tried to object. “Not everything, I get it, but coming to Central, and my protocol, that was by your design. Right? You wanted me to be this way. Right?”

Eerie looked at her shoes, ever guileless.

“I’m right,” Alex proclaimed, putting his hands gently on her arms. “You know it. The Absolute Protocol, the feedback thing. The thing between us. You know. The way it…the way we are. That’s the way you wanted it to be. Isn’t it?”

She said nothing.

“I must be able to do something,” Alex said, giving her arms a little squeeze. “This isn’t random. None of this happened by chance. I can do something. Tell me, Eerie. Please. Tell me how to help. You know I’ll do anything for you.”

“That’s the problem!” Eerie pressed against his chest, and he put his arms around her. “You’re so dumb, Alex! You weren’t supposed to know.”

“Why not? You made me like this. You must have had a reason.”

“I did,” Eerie said, holding tight to him. “I really did. But I changed my mind. I always change my mind! I like you, Alex. I like you a lot. More than I expected.”

“I like you too.”

“I wanted you to be my way out. I wanted you to be my one-in-a-million chance.”

“That’s just it,” Alex said. “That’s what I want to be.”

“I can’t do it now!” Eerie pushed him away. “I like you too much.”

“You can…no, wait, I get it,” Alex said. “We can do it. We’ll do this together. Well, I mean, I don’t really know what we are doing, so it’s more like you doing it, and me helping you, maybe?”

“You don’t understand. I have to give you up, Alex, just for a chance at being free. Not even a good chance! I thought I could do it, and maybe I could have, but I wanted something special, too, something just for me. I was dumb. I was so dumb! I’ve made a mess of everything, and why? It doesn’t change anything. Nothing changes.”

“You wanted to be happy,” Alex said. “I don’t think that’s wrong.”

“Everything I did was wrong, and I knew it was wrong, and I did it anyway, because I wanted what I wanted,” Eerie said, nearly shouting. “I can’t help it! I just need to! Then, when it is finally here, I change my mind, and it was all for no reason.”

“I don’t think we are ‘no reason’,” Alex said. “I think it’s worth it to try.”

“Don’t you understand, Alex? I’m an awful person, and my plan for you was awful!”

“You’re not a—”

“You were meant as a sacrifice,” Eerie said guiltily. “I was going to give you to the Church, in my place, in return for more time.”

Alex grimaced.

“You see? It was a mean thing to do, but please understand, I was so, so desperate…”

“I get it,” Alex said, waving her off. “Doesn’t bother me.”

“I’m not going to lose you for nothing. I’m giving myself to the Church, Alex. I decided while I was with the club in the Outer Dark. I’ll go of my own free will, and none of this will have to happen. I won’t have to give you up, and my friends won’t die.”

“No, no,” Alex said, reaching for her, only for her to brush his hands away. “Don’t do that!”

“I’ll wait until the night before, so we can be together at least that long.” Eerie explained this to him with an apologetic resignation that reminded him of a parent gently disappointing their child. “I’ll go the Church, and everything will be fine. John Parson won’t change, so Emily won’t…whatever. Everything will work itself out, eventually, and you’ll be safe here at the Far Shores, until it is all over.”

“What are you talking about? I’m not going to just sit and watch!”

“You’ll have to sleep, soon, remember?” Eerie looked at him tenderly. “I’m holding it back for now, but if you fall asleep when I’m not around, you’ll have to sleep for a long time. You’ll need Emily to look after you, until you wake up.”

“I won’t go along with this,” Alex said. “I’m not fucking falling asleep, okay?”

“On the morning of the last day, I’ll get up quietly and leave you sleeping, and you won’t have to worry about it at all. When you wake up, everything will be better, and I’ll be long gone.” Eerie smiled at him, and his good eye stung, while his other eye was cold. “You’ll have Emily, and Katya, and Vivik. That’s the best that I can do, Alex. That’s as easy I can make this.”

“I don’t want it to be easy,” Alex said. “We aren’t doing it like this, Eerie. We aren’t going to give up.”

“We aren’t giving up,” Eerie agreed. “I’m giving up, so you don’t have to.”

“No! We are going to find a way, do you understand? We will find a way to fix everything.”

“They weren’t lying to you. John Parson and Samnang and Emily and all the rest. You can’t stop this from happening. No one can – except for me.”

“I won’t let you do this,” Alex said. “I know I can fix everything! I just need you to tell me how to do it. I’ll save you and everyone else. Please, please, let me help you. Tell me how to make this right, and I swear I’ll do it.”

“I know you would,” Eerie said. “But it won’t work. That’s why I can’t let you try.”

“Eerie, no! You have to…”

“Hush, Alex,” she said, grabbing onto him and holding tight. “We have three nights and two days left, and we will spend them together. We will not be apart, and we will not be sad. Then you will fall asleep, and I will go to the Church, and everyone you truly care about will be safe here, waiting for you to wake up.”

He wanted to argue, but instead he found himself crying into her azure hair, sobbing uncontrollably.

“This is what I want, Alex. This is everything,” Eerie told him, stroking his back. “Just do this for me, and it will be nearly…”

“Nearly?” Alex sniffled. “What do you want?”

“I only have a few days left, and I think it would be nice to be in love. I know it will make you hurt more, when I’m gone, but it’s my only chance. Would you, Alex? Do you want to fall in love with me?”

“Don’t be stupid,” Alex said, grabbing her waist and pulling her near. “I obviously love you. Of course I fucking do.”

She went all soft in his arms, and then they kissed.

“See? It’s nice,” Eerie said. “I knew that it would be.”

***

“I’ll decide who gets housed where,” Rebecca insisted. “I’m the Director, and you are…I’m not entirely clear on what you are, these days, Emily.”

“I’m just a girl alone in an uncaring world,” Emily said, clasping her hands modestly. “Who also happens to be the owner of the Far Shores.”

“Oh yeah?” Rebecca got up in Emily’s face. “By what right?”

“By right of ‘what are you going to do about it?’”

“Don’t get cocky,” Rebecca said. “You and I are not on the same level, no matter how much time you’ve spent with Alex.”

“I do believe you enhanced your abilities the same way during your therapy sessions with him. As for the differences between us – perhaps you are correct, Director, in the narrowest possible interpretation. Taking this place is hardly a one-woman activity, though, I’m afraid. Do you think your pitiable group of children and civilians can conquer the Far Shores?”

“The Auditors…”

“They are exhausted and untrained,” Emily said. “You have Alice Gallow and Xia at best. It didn’t go very well the first time they tried to take me on, now, did it?”

“I’ve got Gerald Windsor…”

“Retired.”

“…and Michael Lacroix.”

“He was taken straight to the infirmary on arrival for rest and rehydration. He should still be in a trauma simulation, honestly. You should not have woken him early.”

“Like you could do any better,” Rebecca said, prodding Emily in the shoulder. “What do you have on your side, then, Emily? Huh? What do you…” Rebecca trailed off, staring at something behind Emily. “Holy shit. Holy shit! Is that Mitsuru?”

“What? Oh.” Emily turned around and waved. “Yes, that’s her. One of my many friends, Director.”

“No. No, that’s not her,” Rebecca said, licking her lips. “That’s that Anathema bitch, what’s her name, the one who animates corpses. Like with Edward Krylov, or…”

“That’s not Song Li. Well, Song Li was using her body for a while, but she’s been expelled, I assure you.” Emily smiled pertly. “I exorcised the Anathema myself, and restored Mitsuru from the last backup her implant had recorded.”

“Backup?”

“Another of Gaul’s little tricks. Those implants he built are rather marvelous, don’t you think?”

“You’re lying,” Rebecca said, backing away. “This is insane.”

“You should be thanking me,” Emily said. “Not only did I bring your friend back from the dead, I brought her back without the memories of her death, or anything from the preceding day. She doesn’t remember what you did to her, Director.” Emily gave Rebecca a knowing look. “She’s been told, obviously, but she doesn’t recall it.”

Rebecca searched her pockets for cigarettes in vain.

“Becca! Becca,” Mitsuru called, walking over purposefully. “It’s me.”

“Is it?” Rebecca croaked. “Is it really?”

“As far as I can tell,” Mitsuru said, grabbing her by the arm. “We need to talk.”

“Yeah, I think we do,” Rebecca said. “That’s probably a…hey! Let me go!”

“We need to talk right now,” Mitsuru said, dragging her away. “Privately.”

Emily waved as they left.

“Feel free to use one of the conference rooms,” Emily called out. “Since you are my guests here, and all,” she added quietly, smiling to herself.

Rebecca was able to keep it together until they were inside the meeting room, with the door closed behind them. Then she nearly fell into Mitsuru’s arms.

“Mitzi? Is it really…?”

“Yes. I think so.”

“Really?” Rebecca touched her face hesitantly, and Mitsuru flinched away. “It’s…you were dead. You were dead, weren’t you?”

“I can’t tell you one way or the other,” Mitsuru said. “I remember the night before the operation in the Ukraine. Things were tense, and I had a lot on my mind. I didn’t sleep much. Next thing I know, Emily Muir is waking me up in a track home somewhere in Nevada.”

“You were dead,” Rebecca repeatedly dully. “I – I had you killed, Mitzi. You lost it. You went nuts, and you were gonna kill everyone.”

“We both knew that was a possibility. I don’t blame you.”

“You should, though. You really should.” Rebecca grabbed hold of Mitsuru and put her head on her shoulder. “Oh, Mitzi, I’ve fucked up everything! I’ve done a terrible job as Director – I can tell everyone knows it. I can feel all of it! The doubt, the fear, it’s all just…”

“I won’t say you’ve done great,” Mitsuru admitted, patting Rebecca on the back. “I can’t think of anyone else who could have done better, though. You certainly aren’t the worst Director. I think we can all agree that Gaul takes that one.”

“I’m not sure,” Rebecca said, sniffling. “At least he knew what he was doing when he betrayed all of us and everything.”

“You’re being too hard on yourself.”

“I lost Central to Gaul and I had to evacuate the Academy. All my Auditors are stuck in Las Vegas with the damn Black Sun, and apparently I also lost the Far Shores to Emily Muir.” Rebecca sobbed into Mitsuru’s shirt. “I suck! I didn’t want this stupid job in the first place!”

“Don’t take it so personally,” Mitsuru said. “Things will get better.”

“Will they?”

“Everyone keeps telling me I died,” Mitsuru said. “Here I am anyway. That must be a good sign.”

“I’m so fucking happy you aren’t dead,” Rebecca said, finally letting go of Mitsuru, and then wiping her nose on her sleeve. “I’ve never felt so bad about anything. I never thought I would have to do something like that.”

“You were my sponsor. They would have put me down years ago if not for you,” Mitsuru said. “You knew it might come to that.”

“I never thought it would happen. Not once,” Rebecca insisted weepily. “I always believed in you.”

“I’ll try not to disappoint you,” Mitsuru said, blushing. “Again, I guess.”

“You’re impatient to talk to me about something,” Rebecca said, blowing her nose on a printout she had found on a nearby lectern. “What’s going on?”

“It’s my protocol,” Mitsuru said, holding out her partially healed arm. “Look.”

Rebecca knew just where to look, and she did not have to ask any questions to understand.

“Oh my God, Mitzi,” Rebecca said, grabbing Mitsuru’s arm and gently touching the smooth patch of skin. “How did you do this?”

“It was an accident,” Mitsuru said. “I had a nosebleed.”

“Your protocol was always unique,” Rebecca said, her voice hushed and awed. “This is something else, though. This is really something!”

“I asked Eerie to help me,” Mitsuru said. “This is what happened.”

“What did she do to you?” Rebecca grabbed Mitsuru by her shoulders. “I need you to tell me everything. Just exactly the way it happened, okay? Everything. Go!”

Mitsuru did her best to explain, though it sounded even weirder describing it than it had felt, which, Mitsuru had to admit, was saying something, since it had felt like the setup to some very niche pornography.

“I think I understand,” Rebecca said softly. “I think maybe I know what she did.”

“Don’t just ramble, Becca. Tell me.”

“Sorry, sorry, it’s just…Eerie.” Rebecca laughed. “She’s just such a handful, you know? Her cellular structure is undifferentiated. We noticed the first time we did an exam. Blood draw, hair sample, cheek swab, it made no difference. Every cell in the girl’s body is nearly identical. They look a bit like the nanites, under a microscope, or the manufactured cells we see when we autopsy Anathema. Similar, but more obviously biological, and they have a couple microcellular structures that no one in Central had ever seen before.”

“Interesting.”

“One of those structures allows Eerie to tailor the function of the cell. It’s not a conscious process – it’s an emotional one. When she is scared, cellular function shifts to a defensive response.”

“Eerie can poison on contact,” Mitsuru said. “I remember that.”

“She doesn’t even need contact, if she’s truly frightened. And a positive emotional state will trigger the opposite reaction. She can heal people, Mitzi, assuming she likes them, and isn’t overly upset. Her cells will propagate inside of a new host, and do their thing, either kill or cure. They can be volatized and emitted from the sweat glands, like pheromones, or…”

“In saliva. The candy. I wondered about that.”

“Eerie changed you,” Rebecca said, touching Mitsuru’s shoulder gently, as if to reassure herself. “I’ll have to do some tests back at the Academy, but it’s probably permanent.”

“She said that she had made something unlikely probable, or something to that effect. She seemed more coherent than I am used to, but it was still hard to follow her.”

“She did something like this before,” Rebecca said. “I think she worked hard to keep it a secret from us.”

“What did she do to me? What can I do with this?”

“Eerie described it as the ‘opposite’ of a universal acid, right? If she didn’t mean a base, then she must have been focusing on what the black blood does. It eats through everything, right? It’s got nearly unlimited destructive potential, and it…”

“It kills,” Mitsuru said, indifference in her red eyes.

“Yeah. So, the new thing would be the opposite of that.”

Mitsuru stared at her hands, certain that she could see platinum blood running in her veins, as if her heart pumped molten metal, just for a moment.

“She told me to cheer up,” Mitsuru recalled. “I thought she was just being a brat.”

“Eerie’s abilities are dictated by her emotional state,” Rebecca said. “Perhaps yours are the same? The black blood always seemed to be connected to your anger and sadness. I hate to just say it, but the more depressed that you got, the more…”

“I cut myself,” Mitsuru said. “You don’t need to explain.”

“Yeah. You should stop doing that, you know?”

“That’s what Eerie said,” Mitsuru said, taking the sterilized knife that she reserved exclusively for herself from her belt, and weighing it thoughtfully in her palm. “What if we made a deal?”

“What are you talking about?”

“You want me to stop, right?” Mitsuru looked away. “Cutting myself.”

“Of course,” Rebecca said guardedly. “You know that. I’ve told you a million times.”

“Let’s pretend that I’ve finally heard you. Would you be willing to do something to make it happen?”

“I don’t like where this is going…”

“You won’t,” Mitsuru said, smiling for the first time since the conversation started. “You really won’t like this at all.”

“You wouldn’t do it.”

“Let’s make a deal, Becca. I’ll stop cutting myself right now. I’ll never do it again. I’ll just…I’ll find another way to cope. In return, you’ll…”

“You bitch,” Rebecca said quietly. “This is blackmail! I don’t deserve this.”

“You are my friend, and you deserve it very much. Smoking is a filthy, disgusting habit, and it’s bad for you, and it’s a bad example for the students,” Mitsuru said. “I want you to quit right now. Forever. Not one more cigarette.”

“Not even when I’m drinking?” Rebecca gave her a desperate look. “You’re insane. That’s just cruel.”

“I don’t want you to smoke pot anymore, either. We need to get you one of those vaporizers.”

“What are you, my mom?”

“I’m your friend. Right?”

“You fucking know it,” Rebecca said, head in hands. “I don’t wanna quit!”

“I don’t really want to stop, either,” Mitsuru agreed, touching her remaining scars. “That’s why we’ll do this together.”

Rebecca swore in an obscene blend of gutter Hebrew and private school Spanish.

Mitsuru waited it out.

“Fine. Fucking fine!” Rebecca stood. “I’ll do it. Starting tomorrow, I’ll…”

“Becca,” Mitsuru said. “Now.”

Rebecca howled in frustration.

“Okay, okay,” she muttered, grimacing as she dropped her empty pack of cigarettes on the ground, and then crushed it beneath her heel. She extended her hand to Mitsuru. “Let’s do it.”

Mitsuru tossed the knife into some nearby bushes, and then shook Rebecca’s hand.

“Enough of this shit,” Rebecca growled. “Back to business.”

“Good idea,” Mitsuru said. “What do we do first?”

“We find that knife you just threw into the bushes outside a residential building, and dispose of it safely before someone gets hurt,” Rebecca said, glaring at her. “That’s first.”

“Ah.” Mitsuru stifled a grin. “Of course.”

“Then we find Alistair,” Rebecca said, stomping over to the bush in question. “I don’t mind telling you, I fully intend to take all my frustrations out on him, whether he deserves it or not.”

Twenty

Day Four

Eerie burst from the door like a jack-in-the-box in response to his knock, and then recoiled just as quickly when she recognized him.

Vivik did not take it personally. He was good at that.

“Hi, Eerie,” he said, concealing his surprise at finding her in her pajamas in the mid-afternoon, and belatedly wishing he had checked a window before walking to the dorms. “I hope I didn’t wake you.”

“I was awake,” Eerie said, halfway hiding behind the door. “Alex is out, but we are meeting for dinner.”

“That’s okay,” Vivik said. “I wanted to talk to you.”

“Because I got mad at you?”

“Yeah. Because of that.”

“You messed up my club,” Eerie said petulantly. Her hair was flattened on one side, but flared out like a wing on the other, and she was wearing one of Alex’s T-shirts, which stretched to mid-thigh and concealed whatever else she might have had on. “You were on Emily’s side the whole time.”

“I was on your side, too,” Vivik said. “I never did anything but help.”

“You were helping her, too. Then she joined my club, and I had to invite her! Just to be nice! To be friends!” The words came spilling out of her with manic intensity that Vivik had not seen for some time, tumbling from her lips each on the heels of the last, punctuated by too-frequent gasps. “Then she rescued Alex! She was there when he woke up! She brought him here, and all I did was show up! And you helped her!”

“Eerie, calm down,” Vivik said. “That’s not how it happened.”

“Maybe not,” Eerie said, clinging to the door as she caught her breath. “It’s how it ended up, though. I like Emily, but I’m not happy with Alex and Emily. Emily meddles. She’s probably doing that, right now.”

“I can’t argue with that. Emily means well, but she does get involved in everyone else’s business.”

“You see? Everything! Everything is her business!”

“I don’t think Emily would do anything to hurt you,” Vivik said, wishing he were a little more certain. “I wouldn’t let her, if she tried. I’m on your side, Eerie. I’m sorry I couldn’t be completely honest with you from the start, but I didn’t lie. You and Alex are my friends.” He had practiced all of this, that morning, before coming here, but now that she was standing in front of him, flustered and dismayed, the words sounded hollow. “You are both very important to me. I hope you feel the same way about me.”

Eerie hugged him.

“Don’t be stupid,” Eerie said. “I wouldn’t be angry if I didn’t like you. You were always nice.”

“Thanks, Eerie,” he said, blushing and very aware of her partial state of undress. He was careful not to put his arms around her. “That means a lot.”

She froze as realization struck her, her arms still around his waist.

She bolted back inside of Alex’s dorm room, the door slamming behind her.

“I’m not dressed appropriately!” Eerie shouted, over the sounds of crashing and stomping on the other side of the door. “Give me a minute!”

“I’ll meet you downstairs,” Vivik yelled back. “Take your time.”

He waited for about ten minutes in the lobby, and then went outside, wishing that the sun could break through the eternal fog of Central, just once.

He had spent too long in Central, he thought, and was starting to miss the basic things, like the feeling of the sun on his skin. The light that struggled through the perpetual clouds felt so weak in comparison to the fierce radiance of the Punjabi sun when he visited his family on holiday, or the somewhat more subdued glare in the summer in California’s Central Valley, and he felt cold, all the time. He had taken to bundling himself in jackets and flannel, and wearing a thicker turban, but none of it seemed to help.

It was an issue of psychological temperature, he felt, rather than a physical one. Perhaps it was the sort of the thing that most people would have ascribed to the spiritual, but that was outside of his frame of reference. Religion was cultural and performative, to Vivik, not a means toward a better understanding the world, and he preferred to keep it that way.

The malaise remained, indifferent to his preferences.

He paced along the planters filled with pale ferns that were the default landscaping of the Far Shores, their tepid growth contained by a concrete planter, and he wondered why in the hell he had to be a remote viewer. Vivik would have liked to have been something less necessary and more respectable.

Why couldn’t he have been a precognitive?

Everyone appreciated prescience.

Remote viewers were a regrettable necessity, like spies and prostitutes, Vivik thought, laughing at his own observation.

He felt that the way people looked at his protocol had started seeping into his private character, or perhaps that his protocol was an extension of his self-doubt. He felt slightly nervous all the time, like he had done something wrong, a shameful thing that would be inevitably be discovered and punished.

Vivik lived his life waiting for some obscure hammer to fall, but when he stopped to examine it, he was not sure what he had done to deserve such punishment.

His mother always told him that it never hurt to apologize, and while he was not as certain that was true as he had once been, it still seemed a good policy. He had done his best with that, but if apologies did not hurt, then they were not necessarily easy, either.

It was a burden, and Vivik was tired of carrying it.

He was not sorry for what he had done, not really. Here and there, perhaps, but looking back or anticipating, he felt like he had made most of the right decisions.

Emily caused trouble, he knew that, and he did not always approve. Some of what he had done had enabled that.

She had the best intentions, though, Vivik knew, and he trusted Emily to do the right thing.

Eventually.

Assuming he reminded her. Possibly, there would be some cajoling involved.

It was the destination, not the journey, Vivik thought, and besides…

He liked Emily. Nothing was ever simple with her, and if Vivik loved anything, it was complexity.

“Sorry that took so long,” Eerie said, surprising him. “I don’t have any of my stuff here.”

She wore a knit cap pulled low to hide her hair, and her body was lost in the folds of Alex’s sweatshirt. It seemed a little chilly for shorts, to him, but that had never bothered Eerie, though she did at least wear tights beneath.

“Don’t worry about it,” Vivik said. “I’m not in a hurry.”

“I’m surprised,” Eerie said. “Everyone else here is.”

“I probably should be,” Vivik said. “Maybe I have a different sense of what is important.”

“Maybe.”

“Are you really that mad at me?”

Eerie looked at the ground, shuffled her feet.

“Not really,” she admitted. “I have trouble dealing with Emily. She’s so much better than me at so many things, and she knows Alex so well.”

“I don’t think that is true at all. I think Emily is good at different things than you. As for knowing Alex, if I understand it all correctly, haven’t you known him since he was a child?”

“It’s not the same. I wasn’t supposed to do that, so I had to make him forget. Over and over and over.”

“I thought so,” Vivik said. “Is that why Alex is…the way he is?”

“Probably a little bit.” Eerie shrugged. “Alex is Alex.”

“I have something important I want to talk to you about,” Vivik said, leading her carefully away from the dorm, though no one was about, and lowering his voice. “I know all about your deadline.”

“You overheard?” Eerie gave him a look. “With your windows?”

“I’m not spying on you. I don’t ever watch the two of you, unless you are in danger. I shouldn’t have to tell you that,” Vivik said. “I also shouldn’t need to tell you that your situation is of interest to all sorts of people, and they are definitely talking about you.”

“Oh. Okay. I guess.”

“I know that you’ve only got two days left. I also know something else,” Vivik said, guiding her by the elbow into the green space between the buildings. “I haven’t told anyone else about this. I don’t even think Emily knows about it.”

“She could be in your head.”

“She’s isn’t,” Vivik said, shaking his head. “I know it.”

“How come?”

“She promised me. I believe her.”

“Geez,” Eerie sighed. “Boys.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing, nothing. Tell me the secret.”

“You already know, right?” Vivik stopped in the middle of the lawn. “Because I will tell you, you must already know. Isn’t that how it works?”

“You still need to tell me,” Eerie said solemnly. “Rules are rules.”

“There’s a way out of this for you,” Vivik said urgently. “There’s a way to prevent the Church of Sleep from ever…doing whatever it is that it’s supposed to do. I’m sure of it.”

“What?” Eerie’s eyes were fantastically dilated. “How?”

“There must be a way, because Gaul Thule is very worried that you’ll figure out how to do it,” Vivik explained. “He talks to himself, when no one is around, and about half the time, that’s what he worries about.”

“Creepy.” Eerie shivered. “I don’t like that old man talking about me and Alex.”

“Not just the two of you. Ms. Aoki and Emily, too. He’s upset that we rescued her. He wanted to keep her away from you, or from Alex. I’m not sure.” Vivik lowered his voice even more, so that Eerie had to step closer to hear. “This is big, Eerie. We can do something.”

“Yeah. Yeah,” Eerie said, humming to herself, while golden motes of light orbited her. “You’re right!”

“You know what happens, right?” Vivik peered at the metallic sparks that lazily circled Eerie. “How do we do it?”

“I know that we find out,” Eerie said. “I’m not sure what we find out, though. It’s indistinct, like when you try to remember an old song, or lines from a movie, and you can almost remember, but not quite, like you know the shape of the thing, but the thing itself is elusive. You know?”

“Not at all, but I believe you,” Vivik said. “Okay, then. Plan B.”

“We have a Plan B?” Eerie looked impressed. “Awesome.”

“You’ll need to get the club back together.”

“Okay,” Eerie said. “Which club?”

“Your club! The Rescue Alex From the Outer Dark Club!”

“Oh, right. That one.”

“Except this time, we won’t be rescuing Alex,” Vivik said. “We’ll be rescuing you from the Church of Sleep.”

“Cool,” Eerie said, clasping her hands in front of her chest. “So cool!”

“Yeah. I thought you’d like this idea.”

“I hope we do better this time, though,” Eerie said. “We kinda didn’t rescue Alex, remember?”

“I remember, but he was rescued,” Vivik said. “That’s okay. If everyone gets rescued, then it’s fine. That’s what I think.”

“I think that, too,” Eerie agreed solemnly. “You’re smart, Vivik.”

“Wait till you hear my plan,” Vivik said, grinning. “You might change your mind. As far as I can tell, Gaul Thule is the only person who knows for sure what to do to stop the Church of Sleep.”

“He’s pretty scary,” Eerie said. “Will he tell us?”

“I don’t think he’ll want to,” Vivik said. “I think Emily could make him tell us, though.”

“I don’t know,” Eerie fretted. “I don’t really trust Emily completely. Maybe we should leave her out of this club activity? I don’t want to ask her for help. She always wants stuff in return.”

“She is like that, isn’t she?” Vivik nodded. “Don’t worry, though. You won’t have to ask for her help this time.”

“I won’t?”

“You won’t,” Vivik assured her. “I’ll take care of it. Emily owes me a bunch of favors.”

“Thank you, Vivik!” Eerie hugged him again, and this time, he returned the gesture. “Thank you for helping!”

“It’s really no problem,” Vivik assured her, clumsily patting her back. “We are friends, right?”

“We are totally friends,” Eerie said. “I’ve been mean to you, haven’t I? I took it all out on you. That’s so bad.”

“No. No! Not at all. We just…we had some miscommunications. That’s all. But that’s normal, right? That’s normal for friends.”

“Yes,” Eerie nodded. “We are very normal.”

“I want you to understand everything this time. I’m going to be completely open about everything,” Vivik said, gently removing himself from her grasp. “I want to help you, I really do. That’s not my only reason to care, though. You know what would happen to Emily if the Church shows up, right? I can’t, uh…I can’t let that happen.”

“I know that,” Eerie said. “I think it’s cool. Emily is lucky to have a friend like you, and so am I.”

Vivik laughed, while Eerie gave him a puzzled look.

“I’m sorry,” Vivik said, wiping his eyes. “That has been coming up a lot lately.”

***

Gaul led him down the stairs, the dim lighting and the uneven length of the steps compelling Alistair to lean heavily on the railing to one side. The lighting was barely sufficient to illuminate the stair and the surrounding stonework, but anything further was lost to the gloom.

The stair deposited them at the mouth of a tunnel, and Alistair followed Gaul into it, ducking his head to avoid the low ceilings.

The walk down the tunnel was long enough to make him wonder if they were still on the same piece of property. There was a bend to the tunnel, but the darkness made it impossible to be sure how much of a curve was involved.

They emerged in another chamber, large enough that their footsteps echoed from unseen walls. The ceiling above was composed of finely carved stone vaults, though many of the arches showed signs of relatively recent restoration. There was a small table and a pair of chairs on one side of the room, which was otherwise empty, excepting only a massive oriental rug that just failed to conceal the trap door set beneath it.

Gaul kicked the rug aside, and then unlocked the trap door.

The door itself was secure and very heavy. Gaul gestured, and the door opened via the application of several tons of telekinetic force, applied at a very specific angle.

Alistair and Gaul both looked down at what was below.

A short ladder descended into what appeared to be dimly lit baths, stone arches decorated with tile frescoes and strange mosaics.

“That looks like a dungeon,” Alistair observed. “A wet one.”

“It has served that purpose,” Gaul replied. “It is a crypt, and also a crucible, where the Thule family refines itself.”

“You aren’t locking me in there,” Alistair said. “Why would I allow it?”

“I don’t plan on locking the door. That’s only required when the subject of the trial is unwilling. Since you’ve come of your own volition, the process should be much easier.”

“What process? What are you babbling about, boss?”

“I have no interest in your service if you plan to simply disintegrate when the Church of Sleep manifests,” Gaul said. “The Anathema are nothing more than an extension of John Parson, and they will cease to exist as soon as he realizes that he does not. To be of any use to me, you must become something other than Anathema.”

“Great idea! How should I go about it?” Alistair’s words dripped with sarcasm. “It’s not a philosophy or a political alignment, you know. It is more of an ‘every cell in my body’ sort of thing.”

“Tell me, Alistair. How was your body deconstructed? In a fire, I know, but did you not asphyxiate on nanites volatized by the fire long before that happened? Your body was deconstructed on a cellular level, then rebuilt from components synthesized from your surroundings. Would it be so strange for the same process to have different results?”

“That’s the traditional definition of insanity, I think.”

“Yes. It would be insane. Irrational, even.” Gaul gave Alistair a weary look. “You do not have a body. You have a collection of organized nanites and a biological memory. Your form is rebuilt from a template each time you return.”

“I know all this. What’s your point?”

“The waters in this chamber are infused with nanites, along with a powerful psychedelic agent derived from a fungus discovered on this property, and nowhere else. The chambers were designed to have a powerful impact on the human mind, in decoration and in dimension. If you choose to descend and immerse yourself, and remain there for a night, or perhaps a little longer, you will be changed.”

“Changed how?”

“John Parson used this place as his model when he created the Anathema,” Gaul said. “He succeeded only in creating a pale imitation of the original.”

“Are you saying this could reverse the process?” Alistair gave him a doubtful look. “It can transform me from Anathema back to human?”

“That is impossible. Your body is gone, and all that remains of it is a memory. John Parson’s memory of you, to be completely accurate. Did you never wonder why he witnesses each transformation, and is personally present at the creation of each Anathema?”

“I just thought he was a sicko,” Alistair said. “If you can’t give me back my body, then what are you offering?”

“The nanites that make up your body are cloned from those of John Parson. They lack an individual imprint, and require instructions from their source – again, John Parson – to function. His dissolution means your own. The solution, then, is to provide that unique imprint to the nanites within you.”

Gaul pointed at the dark chamber below them.

“You will go mad down there, rather quickly. Telepaths are particularly sensitive to the dimensions of the vaults. You will be forced to find irrational solutions in order to recover yourself. You will do so, however, I have little doubt, and in doing so, you will shatter the connection between John Parson’s consciousness and your own.”

“Even if that works, I don’t see how it helps me.”

“I’m not finished. These waters will poison you,” Gaul said. “Your body will replace damaged cells with new copies, rendered from the raw materials around you. The easiest and fastest material to work with is the nanites within the water. These nanites will have already been implanted with an imprint of your body and consciousness.”

“From where?” Alistair asked. “I thought you said mine was destroyed.”

“The memories are my own,” Gaul said. “Who knows you better?”

“This is very convenient.”

“I have anticipated these events.”

“Obviously, but how do you know this will work? Is that also prescience?”

“Not at all,” Gaul said. “This has been done before.”

Alistair gave him an expectant look.

“Emily Muir has already visited us, and gone through the same process,” Gaul admitted.

“And it worked?”

“There is no way to be certain until the Church manifests, but the probabilities are high.”

Alistair thought about, and then nodded and reached for the ladder.

“Take off your clothes, first,” Gaul commanded, blocking his way. “You will go in with nothing, and you will become nothing. That is the beginning of it.”

“Spare me the new-age bullshit,” Alistair said, pulling off his shirt. “I appreciate the save, boss, even if it is all fucked up, but this won’t square us. You know how valuable I can be for whatever you are trying to do. You’re gonna owe me, and I want my payment up front.”

“I had assumed as much,” Gaul said, taking Alistair’s clothes and shoes as he shed them. “What is your price this time, Alistair?”

“I’m tired of not having a name or a title. I’m tired of not having a home. I’m sick of everything about my lone wolf, bachelor lifestyle.” Alistair grinned as he handed Gaul his pants. “I want a new name, and I have one in mind. I really took a shine to that niece of yours, Gaul.”

“You must be joking.”

“I want you to break off her engagement with Grigori Aushev – after all the shit you’ve caused, I think we both know she isn’t marrying an Auditor anyway – and I want you to announce our engagement, instead.”

“Perhaps there is no need for you to descend after all,” Gaul said. “You have already gone mad.”

“I’ll want a job and a title, too. Something prestigious.” Alistair stripped off his underwear, and then let it drop to the floor. “We both want the best for Gabby, after all, and she can’t be married off to a servant or a bodyguard. She deserves an executive, don’t you think?”

Gaul moved aside, and Alistair started down the ladder.

“I will have to discuss this with Gabriela,” Gaul said, watching him go. “I will not do this without her assent.”

“If she isn’t into it now, I’ll just have to win her over,” Alistair said. “I’m going to make her very happy, future Uncle Gaul. I’m going to be very progressive about it, mind you. I want to take her name. I think she’ll like that.”

Alistair stepped from the ladder into the tepid water.

“Drink the water,” Gaul suggested, reaching for the trap door. “That will accelerate the process.”

Gaul shut the trap door behind him, and then, after quite a long time, left it unlocked, only bothering to roll the rug back over it.

He knew that a precisely calibrated stew of treated nanites and psychedelic extracts were spreading through the waist-deep water and would soon begin to cross Alistair’s permeable skin and seep into his blood, if he did not decide to hurry it along and drink. He even knew what would likely happen, based on Emily Muir’s previous visit.

A third infusion had been prepared, but not yet introduced, waiting on his command. It was a deadly poison, derived from samples taken from the Changeling’s prior victims.

It would not take long, or very much, to ensure that Alistair never left the chamber.

All that was required was for him to issue a telepathic instruction.

Gaul considered it until his back started to ache.

He headed back up to the house, meaning to check on Gabriela, and then, perhaps, have a serious discussion regarding her future.

***

Katya pulled three desks together in one of the classrooms into a makeshift bed, and then lay down across them, closing her eyes and slowing her breathing.

She wasn’t sure if it was more comfortable, but it seemed more dignified than lying on the floor.

The door opened, but Katya did not bother to open her eyes until she felt a presence beside her.

Eerie stood next to her, looking very nervous.

“I got your note,” Katya said, stretching. “Please don’t put notes in my food again, okay?”

“Sorry,” Eerie said, sitting down on the desk nearest Katya’s head. “Where else, though?”

“Just come talk to me,” Katya suggested. “We are both sleeping in the same building.”

“You are busy a lot,” Eerie said. “I wanted to talk to you alone.”

“I don’t blame you for that. What do you want to talk about?”

“Club stuff,” Eerie said conspiratorially. “We have planned an activity!”

“An activity?” Katya opened her eyes and gave Eerie a look of concern. “Not that I don’t want to hang out, but don’t you have just a couple days left? Are you sure you want to spend part of that time with us?”

“Yes, of course!” Eerie leaned her head over Katya’s, so that her hair formed a cerulean screen that blocked out the room. “Besides, if the activity goes well, I won’t have to leave, and time won’t be as much of an issue.”

Katya almost banged her forehead into Eerie’s, she sat up so fast.

“What are you talking about?”

“Vivik told me all about it, and you’ll never guess who knows how to make it all better.” Eerie climbed across the desks to whisper in Katya’s ear. “Gaul Thule knows! We are going to make him tell us!”

Katya’s expression hardened.

“Does he really? So, he’s still alive. That’s very interesting.”

“It is, isn’t it? We are gonna fix everything!”

“Your tune has certainly changed since the other night, hasn’t it?” Katya rubbed her eyes. “How are you going to make him cooperate? I don’t think he’s just gonna volunteer the information, you know.”

“Emily will help,” Eerie explained. “Vivik has favors.”

“Emily, huh?” Katya considered it. “That might work, if Alex helps.”

“Yes,” Eerie agreed. “I don’t like that part.”

“I don’t blame you. I would want Emily Muir far, far away from my boyfriend, if I had a boyfriend.”

“I’m so glad you understand,” Eerie said. “Why don’t you have a boyfriend? I think you could get one, if you wanted.”

“I’m glad you think so,” Katya said, smirking. “It’s not so easy for me, though. I’m picky.”

“I’m picky, too.”

“I don’t know about ‘picky’,” Katya said. “You are ‘specific’, maybe.”

“I like boys who don’t talk all the time, and I like them to be taller than me. What do you like, Katya?”

“I shouldn’t even tell you,” Katya said, glancing around. “But I’m honestly going nuts, it’s been so long now, so what the hell. I like authority figures.”

“I don’t get it,” Eerie said. “What do you mean?”

“I mostly like older guys. Commanding officers and teachers. Preferably my bosses and teachers.”

“Oh, wow,” Eerie said. “That’s different!”

“Isn’t it? I can’t help it at all,” Katya said. “I think maybe it’s Anastasia’s fault. I’m so used to being bossed around, I guess maybe I started to like it.”

“I’m glad you told me,” Eerie said. “This is what friends do, I think.”

“I think so, too,” Katya agreed. “Do we have a plan? We need to get there and back, and deal with security. Have you thought about all of that?”

“I hoped you would do that part, because you would know best,” Eerie said. “Does that mean you are interested in the club activity?”

“Yeah, I’m very interested,” Katya said, rubbing her lower back. “After all the time I’ve put into this club, did you really think I’d quit now?”

“I wasn’t sure if you were allowed to come,” Eerie said. “Because of the Auditors, or Anastasia.”

“I’m not really sure if I’m an Auditor anymore. If I am, then I’m already in big trouble, so what’s the difference?” Katya shrugged. “I’m not worried.”

“What about Anastasia? She’s the scary one.”

“Ana wants Gaul Thule dead, however that happens.” Katya cracked her knuckles. “I didn’t get him the first time, but if I can just get close to him again, I’ll take care of him for sure.”

“Yeah. For sure!” Eerie touched Katya’s arm. “You will wait until we find out the secret, right?”

“I promise,” Katya said, laughing. “First, we find out how to beat the Church of Sleep, then I kill the fucker. Deal?”

“Deal!” Eerie gave Katya a conspiratorial look. “I found where they hide the junk food at the commissary. Do you want to have some snacks?”

“Always. To my regret,” Katya said. “Lead the way.”

They walked to the commissary. The smoke from Central was more prominent than yesterday, staining half the sky the color of espresso, but the storms still held along the coast, menacing the Far Shores at a constant distance.

“Oh, wow. I forgot to tell you,” Eerie breathed, turning her dilated eyes on Katya. “Alex told me that he loves me!”

“Uh, yeah,” Katya said, grinning. “Congratulations, I guess?”

“Thank you,” Eerie said. “That sort of makes tonight our first official night together as lovers. Do you have any advice?”

“I don’t know! Uh, have fun?”

“No, no. I’m serious!”

“I’m the worst person to ask. I’m bad at all of it,” Katya said. “I haven’t dated anyone in…never mind. You’ll be fine. You guys have already done stuff, right?”

“Yes, but I think this should be important. Special.”

“I think you should find someone else to talk to about this.”

“There is no one else,” Eerie said. “Who else can I ask? Emily?”

“Okay, I see that,” Katya said. “Uh, let me think for a second…”

Eerie stared hopefully while Katya frowned and pulled at her lip.

“I got it,” Katya said. “Ready?”

“Oh, yes,” Eerie nodded. “Very ready.”

Katya leaned close and lowered her voice.

“You wanna hold something back at first. Leave it to his imagination, you see.”

Katya looked about conspiratorially, and then leaned close, cupping her hand around Eerie’s ear as she started to whisper.

Eerie’s already wide eyes widened further.

Katya continued to whisper while the color rose in Eerie’s cheeks.

“O-okay,” Eerie said, looking disconcerted. “You think he wants to…do that?”

“In my experience, boys always do,” Katya said. “Always.”

“I hate to interrupt, I really do,” Emily said, entering the commissary wearing a huge grin. “But what in the world are the two of you talking about?”

“Nothing,” Katya said.

“Nothing,” Eerie echoed.

“Oh, I’m sure,” Emily said, laughing. “Do you want my advice, Eerie dear?”

“I’m not sure,” Eerie said. “Maybe tell me anyway?”

“If you insist,” Emily said. “I just wanted to warn you not to let Alex break your heart. Though he never means to be, he can be quite cruel.” Emily hesitated, a smile wavering at the edges of her lips. “Well, you know already, don’t you? He loses interest easily.”

There was an awkward silence, broken by Emily’s laughter.

“He really is the least romantic boy,” Emily said. “Don’t you think?”

“I don’t! I really don’t,” Eerie insisted. “Maybe that was just you?”

“Maybe it was,” Emily agreed. “You should get going, dear. Alex is waiting.”

Eerie gave Emily an ambiguous look and then Katya a hopeful one before running off.

“That was a little harsh,” Katya said quietly. “You gonna make it through the night?”

“I’ll be fine,” Emily assured her. “I probably deserved that.”

“I don’t know,” Katya said. “This shit is not my thing.”

“Is that so?” Emily smiled. “You’ve given up on love and romance entirely?”

“I don’t think I ever believed in it in the first place. The rest of you can worry about that stuff. I’ll focus on trying not to die too young.”

“That’s too bad. I’d feel sorry for you,” Emily said, squinting at a point just above Katya’s head, “but I don’t entirely believe you.”

“Really?”

“White lies don’t work very well on empaths, dear.”

“Keep yourself out of my private life, thank you very much,” Katya said. “I don’t comment on yours, okay?”

“You can if you want to,” Emily said, shrugging. “I don’t mind.”

“You know what? Sure. Why not?” Katya glared at her. “You need to get over Alex. It was pathetic and desperate before, but at least you had the excuse of your parents making you do it. Now no one is making you do anything, and it’s even more pathetic and desperate. It’s a bad look, the crazy ex-girlfriend thing.”

“That’s not me, I assure you,” Emily said stiffly. “It was never that important to me, and I moved on some time ago. There’s nothing more to it.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t entirely believe you.”

Katya stomped off.

Emily stood in silence for a while after she left, processing.

Renton limped into the commissary, a crutch beneath his armpit, and made straight for the pantry. Emily ignored him while he searched the shelves.

“You need better friends,” Renton said, biting a bread stick in half. “Such ungrateful behavior!”

“That is mostly you, Renton,” Emily said. “Please don’t eavesdrop.”

“That’s not the point. Just let me finish, okay? They come to the Far Shores, and they eat your food, and they don’t say thank you…”

“They did.”

“…and they break things in your house…”

“They did no such thing!” Emily looked appalled. “Right?”

“…and they stomp all over your feelings, and say selfish things, and generally only worry about themselves,” Renton said, stopping just in front of her. “They argue and squabble and flirt and scheme, and they do all of it in front of you, like you aren’t even there. Like you don’t matter at all.”

Emily looked at Renton without comment.

“They do whatever they want and expect you to come running every time they get in trouble,” Renton said. “Then they leave you alone. When did you volunteer to be everyone’s mom? It’s not fair.”

Emily looked at the floor for quite a while, before nodding.

“You aren’t entirely wrong,” Emily said softly. “Thank you, Renton. That was unexpectedly thoughtful.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Renton said, stroking a lock of her hair. “Wanna invite me back to your place?”

“Never. Not in a million years, not if the species depended on it,” Emily said, smiling. “Not if you were the actual last man on Earth. Do lock up on your way out, won’t you?”

Emily hurried out of the commissary.

Renton watched her go, bemused.

“Fine, then,” Renton said, heading for the door. “I guess we all get our feelings hurt.”

***

His sense of composure held for what felt like a little while, though time was elastic, in the wet darkness beneath the Thule compound. He waded about in the flooded chambers, which were sporadically lit by patches of faintly luminous moss, and poked his head in the various vaults and corridors, running his fingers across carvings in the stone that he could not see, but was somehow aware of before he even reached to touch them.

The carvings were like those in the oldest parts of Central, the parts that had escaped the attempt to scour the infrastructure. He was certain that the language was the same, even without being able to see or recognize a single character.

He was equally certain that pronouncing some of the words carved into the entrances to the vaults and the arches overhead would have killed him instantly, or devoured his mind, leaving behind only the outer skein of his brain, like a deflated balloon.

The Consuming Words were the least of the lexicon.

There was narrative in these walls, a context emphasized by the design of the dim arcades and corridors, partially submerged and never touched by the sun or wind of the outer world. It was the specific angles and dimensions, something about the way the outlines intermingled, when he stood in certain places, or looked into the near-dark long enough.

His throat became dry immediately. He knew it was psychosomatic, but thirst nagged him as he explored.

He was not entirely sure whether his telepathy did not work, or if there were simply no minds in range. Earth and stone were not typically impediments to telepathic contact, but nothing about this watery dungeon seemed typical. He could not reach the Network either, likely as a function of the same blocking or shielding effect.

Triggering an Anathema transformation seemed like a risky move under these circumstances, but he was almost tempted to try and drift out of there as a cloud of ash.

The only other option was admitting the he was naked and powerless, trapped in the dark, in water that had been doped and poisoned.

He considered it, but then he remembered Gabby.

Alistair grinned in the dark, thinking about Gaul dryly explaining to her the new arrangement, her discomfort or even outright distaste.

It helped.

The space below the manor was impossible to map in his head. His attempts to remember turns or gauge distances were confused and fruitless. The water was blood warm and the air was completely still, but he started shivering when he held still.

Gaul had warned him that the hallucinogenic toxin in the water was dermally active, but he had not mentioned how long it took to get into the bloodstream.

He might have been hallucinating already, Alistair thought, peering hard into the darkness. His environment had been stripped of normalcy, depriving him of any ability to identify the abnormal.

His thighs started to ache after an uncertain amount of time, wandering among the watery alcoves. The moss had become scarce the further he went, and he had to hold his arms out in front of him to prevent collision with an unseen wall.

The corridor was lined with vaults. Each of the vaults was separated from the rest of the underground by a stone ring, too sharp and narrow to rest or even lean upon, which kept the waters within discrete from those without.

Many of these vaults were devoid of moss, and therefore perfectly dark. He chose one at random, and wandered as far into it as he dared, his heart beating frantically in his chest at the thought of losing his way back to the main chamber. He walked in a straight line, his left hand on the wall.

The floor of the vault had a slight slope, and before long, he was up to his neck in tainted water and afraid to go any further.

Alistair marveled at the terror he felt as he followed the wall back out of the vault. Was it the drugs, he wondered, or was it simply a natural response to his bizarre surroundings?

As with everything in that moist darkness, there was no way to be certain. That was by design, he suspected.

One vault followed another the deeper he went.

His eyes began to adjust, and he was able to pick out general shapes and lines in a dim light without obvious source.

Alistair was starting to suspect that the vaults were mausoleums or crypts.

He found no remains, no urns or tombs, but each vault had a name carved into the arch above the entrance. It was the only text he had found on the walls so far that was not in the lost language of Central.

The languages varied, but the characters were conventional and mundane, and the length was appropriate for a family name.

He counted fourteen vaults and then he stopped counting.

He passed another vault, and then another, and then suddenly lost his nerve.

All at once his self-possession collapsed, and he spun about in the dark, desperate to find somewhere to retreat. He was slick with an unfamiliar, greasy sweat, and his limbs felt slick and weightless.

He tried to run, despite the water. He exhausted himself in the effort, stumbling and splashing every few steps. Alistair had forgotten direction, forgotten further and back, so that he knew only flight. There was no ambient light, and no moss, wherever he was, and the blackness about him was almost total.

As Alistair fled, his mind tied itself in knots, worrying over whether this was a conventional darkness or not. Was it possible that, in their madness and hubris, the Thule Cartel had somehow imported a portion of that primordial darkness into the vault below their ancestral manor?

Was this the dark beneath the earth?

Or was he lost in the Outer Dark?

The very thought of that aborted universe, absent light and motion and life, goaded him on.

There was no thought of whether he was headed further in, or on his way out. The distinction between the two was too small to matter in comparison to the anxiety that had settled behind his ribs. That he got away was the only consideration. The necessity of escape precluded such considerations as ‘where’, and ‘why’.

He had been a fool, Alistair realized, to trust Gaul or Gabby. The entire Thule Cartel was demented. Why had he given up his clothes and his weapons? Why had he willingly climbed down into this horrible place?

Alistair forced his way on in the dark, his lungs and leg muscles burning furiously.

He was reminded of his transformation to Anathema, the pure and unadulterated agony that had accompanied his immolation.

Had it been this frightening?

Had it taken this long?

Alistair collided with a stone rim beneath the water, gouging flesh from one of his shins and tripping him. He toppled over it and plunged headfirst into the water, only remembering to seal his mouth at the last moment. He sputtered and flailed, his feet just reaching the floor on the other side.

He gathered himself and slowed his breathing, and then examined the damage to his leg with his fingers. He was bleeding freely, and a chunk of skin dangled from his shin, waving like a flag in the water.

Alistair inhaled deeply, and then tore the patch of skin free.

He waited until the pain passed, and then he climbed back over the stone rim.

He passed his fingers along the arch on top of the vault on his way out as an afterthought. His fingers flinched from the carved lines in the stone as if they had been burned.

He was hesitant to touch the carvings again.

After a vague interval, he did it anyway. His fingers traced the expunged and scorned name of his liquidated family, the name stripped from him in a misguided attempt to spare him some of the associated ignominy.

His very own name.

Alistair shook uncontrollably in the water for a time, until he was able to force himself back into motion. He explored inside the shallows of the vault, wading from one wall to the other and then back again, moving in a careful set of zigzags.

He was in up to his shoulders in the water when he located the stone pedestal, touching it with his extended fingers before he collided with it. He walked the perimeter of it, determining it to be rectangular, of one uniform piece without carvings or separation, and almost tall enough to clear the water, with five or so centimeters of water flowing over the top of it.

Alistair ran his fingers along the top and was surprised to discover that it was contoured, a series of smooth depressions pressed into the stone. He spent what felt like a long time in the dark, his mouth hanging open as he traced the curves and slopes of the stone on top, before an idea occurred to him.

He climbed onto the block of stone, careful to avoid hitting his head on the ceiling.

Alistair slowly lowered himself down onto the stone, lying down in the water.

The block was wide and long enough to support him easily, and the contours of the top of the stone fit him like a glove. He settled into the grooves naturally and discovered that this left the level of the water just below his face, so that he could lie without worry of getting water in his eyes or drowning.

Alistair lay on the stone platform like a patient sacrifice, waiting for his big moment.

He stayed like that, for a little while, or a long while.

“Let’s get started already,” Alistair said, closing his eyes. “I don’t have all day.”

He turned his head, and the water spilled over his face.

He opened his mouth, and then, when the water tasted fine, he swallowed.

***

Alex was stomping around the side of the townhouse, searching the gravel for stones small enough that they would not break the glass, when Emily appeared at her window in a white nightdress, yawning and fussing with her hair.

“This is a surprise,” Emily observed. “What are you doing here, Alex?”

“It’s barely ten! It’s not that late, so I figured…sorry if I woke you up.”

“You certainly did. Tomorrow will be a long day, I suspect, so I was trying to get some rest. What is going on? I would have thought you would be with Eerie.”

He ignored the various potential implications of that statement, taking it instead at face value.

“She’s asleep,” he replied. “I need to talk to you.”

“Oh, I see,” Emily said, stifling another yawn. “What is it?”

“It’s just…you’re smarter than me. I know it. You’ve always got a plan. You’ve got a plan for this right?” Alex gave her a hopeful look. “There’s got to be a way to save everyone, you and Eerie both. There is, right? Please, you have to tell me. I’ll do anything.”

“Other than make a decision,” Emily said, sounding very tired. “I have plans, Alex, but there’s no ‘both’ involved.”

Alex cast about for something to destroy in his rage and settled on repeatedly kicking a nearby bush.

“Please stop that,” Emily said. “We don’t have gardeners right now.”

Alex gave it one final petulant kick, and then finally left off. He started to pace along the small garden in front of Emily’s townhouse, marching past withered carnations in untended beds with his shoulders hunched and his hands driven deep into his pockets, the very picture of sullen and impotent rage.

“Fuck this,” Alex grumbled. “Fuck everything!”

“Please keep your voice down,” Emily said. “People are trying to sleep.”

“Who gives a shit? How am I supposed to make a decision like this? I don’t want anything bad to happen to either of you!” Alex fumed. “I’m gonna screw up and lose everything. That’s it, and we all know it.”

“I thought we were done with these fits. You’ve been doing so much better.”

“I’ve only really cared about two people in my whole life,” Alex stammered. “Now I gotta choose between them, or lose both? Pardon me for being upset.”

“Since my life is one of those at stake, it seems a little rich to complain to me about it,” Emily said. “I’m very sorry that I do not have an easy way out for you this time. I’ve given you any number of prior opportunities to consider my feelings and well-being, and you never did, did you? I don’t expect this time to be any different.”

“Emily…”

“If anything, I should be the one complaining! I move on, and the universe provides you with one more opportunity to decide my fate? It’s outrageous. Everything I’ve done was to get to the point that I could make my own decisions, and now this happens.”

“That’s why I need you to tell me how to fix it!” Alex shouted. “You’re right! It’s not fair! None of this is fair. I want to make everything right. I just need you to…”

“Quiet down. You don’t need to explain anything to me. You want me to give you an out,” Emily said, leaning her elbows on the windowsill. “By coming up with a perfect solution, or by bowing gracefully out of the picture and giving you permission to save your girlfriend instead.”

“That’s not…”

“It is! You know it! You are the most selfish boy I’ve ever met!”

“I’m trying to help! What the fuck? What did I…?”

“You want me to say it’s okay to abandon me to my horrible destiny. That’s your pattern, Alex. You want what you want, and then you want to be forgiven for it. You want to be coddled and spoiled, and you never want to be in trouble for anything. That’s what you want.”

“That’s fucking nonsense!”

“Don’t bother pretending. I know you believe every word. I can see it in your halo. It’s all right there for everyone to see, if they only knew how to look. The world’s most selfish boy, asking to be let off the hook one more time. You know what? I’m tired. I just want to go back to sleep for a few hours. I give you permission, Alex. Go save your precious Eerie, and don’t worry about me at all. I’ll be a good girl and die quietly, the way I should have the first time I became an imposition on you.”

“That’s not it at all!” Alex barked at her. “You’ve got it all wrong! You aren’t listening to me.”

“You have never listened to me! Not even once!”

“I’ve been listening to both of you,” Mitsuru said, putting a hand on Alex’s shoulder, and nearly causing him to jump out of his skin in fright. “I was trying to go to bed early. Since you woke me up, you’re gonna make it up to me.”

She twisted Alex’s arm behind his back before he could object or formulate a defense. He yelped and went up on his tiptoes and struggled, but her grip was ruthless, and the pain only worsened when he fought.

“Not fair!” Alex gave in, and Mitsuru relaxed her grip marginally. “Why am I the only one in trouble?”

“He seems to have reverted to his prior, less appealing self,” Emily said, yawning. “Can you do something, Ms. Aoki?”

“I doubt it, but I don’t mind trying,” Mitsuru said, dragging Alex away from the townhouse. “Come along, Alex. It’s been a long time since I saw you in the gym.”

“What? No! This is bullshit!” Alex shouted, as Mitsuru pulled him along. “Total bullshit!”

Emily watched them go with a bemused expression.

“That boy,” she said, “never learns.”

***

It was hard to keep the water down, and it seemed to scorch each of his organs in turn as it spread through his body.

He kept still and quiet, more out of long habit than any fear of observation.

He was certain that the Thule Cartel could keep watch on their own dungeons, and were likely doing so. Nonetheless.

He suffered quietly because that was how he suffered, not because his pride was at stake.

Alistair could not remember having any of that to begin with.

His stimulus-starved eyes were drawn to the swirling colors like bees to wildflowers. As soon as they appeared near the periphery of his vision, he found his attention fixed on them. Swirling and sinuous cords of pure cerulean and magenta and umber, intertwined and refracting all about the ceiling of the darkened vault.

After an uncertain amount of time, the quantity and intensity of the colors became oppressive, seeming to press him further down into the water in which he floated.

He seemed to have drifted, somehow, in the confusion of his hallucinations, and now Alistair was uncertain whether he was still in the original vault, or somewhere else entirely, in one of the other vaults or floating along the winding corridors.

He floated with the current, it never occurring to him to wonder how long there had been a current.

The colors beat down upon him, like a cruel aurora borealis.

Alistair cried out, or he meant to do so. He could not be sure whether he had risked opening his mouth, for fear the colors would rush inside him, filling his lungs with their vivid squirming.

He closed his eyes, so as to shut them out.

That, as he soon discovered, was a mistake.

***

Refugees occupied most of the classrooms around the gym, so they had to make do with a basketball court, the floor squeaking with every step. Alex glanced at his jeans and sweatshirt and made a face.

“I don’t suppose you’d let me run up to my room to change?”

Mitsuru’s eyes flicked over to him.

“You’re fine,” she said, tugging a mat into the center of the court. “No-Gi practice is more relevant to our occupation.”

“This is stupid,” Alex said, helping her arrange the mat. “We aren’t at the Academy anymore, you know?”

“Remind me,” Mitsuru said. “When did you graduate?”

Alex muttered beneath his breath as he straightened up.

“I thought so,” Mitsuru said. “You are an Auditor in training, and I am your superior, offering you supplementary education. Isn’t that generous of me?”

Mitsuru kicked off her sandals, and then tossed her jacket on them.

“All I have is a mouthpiece,” Alex said hopefully. “We need gloves at least, right?”

Mitsuru held up two sets of gloves.

Alex sighed as he stepped out of his shoes and socks, and then pulled off his sweatshirt before he stepped onto the wrestling mat.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Alex glanced at Mitsuru resentfully.

“Is it supposed to be a secret?” She pulled on a headband. “You were just yelling about it for the entire world to hear.”

“I don’t want to talk about it at all.”

“Fine. Be a grump,” Mitsuru said, stretching briefly before settling into an open stance. “I’ll get it out of you one way or the other.”

“We should never have rescued you,” Alex said, sighing as he took his stance. “What are we doing?”

“Just a little light sparring,” Mitsuru said, tossing him gloves and headgear. “Freestyle.”

“I don’t mind practice,” Alex said, finding the gloves to be a serviceable size, but the headgear far too big, “but I don’t wanna hurt you.”

“I wasn’t planning on letting you do any damage,” Mitsuru said. “Don’t worry, I’ll hold back. I won’t break anything important.”

Alex grimaced and did his best to adjust the fit on the borrowed gear.

The mat was tacky and small, clinging to their bare feet as they circled and restricting their movement. At opposite ends of the mat they were only just out of each other’s grasps.

Mitsuru pawed the air in front of Alex’s face with her open hands. He batted them away and stepped back.

She circled and feinted, then resumed pawing at him. He knocked her hands aside again.

The cycle repeated.

Her hands came closer with each pass.

Alex was unsure whether she was feeling him out or toying with him.

The next time he brushed her hands away, Mitsuru kicked him savagely below the knee, bringing tears to his eyes.

He limped back and circled, testing his leg.

“Careful, Ms. Aoki,” he said. “I need to be okay for the field.”

“Then I suggest you learn to defend yourself,” Mitsuru said. “Quickly.”

She came forward, her open hands probing.

He brushed them aside as he leapt back, anticipating another kick.

Mitsuru popped him in the nose with a straight jab.

Alex retreated, throwing a wild cross off his back foot. Mitsuru took it on her shoulder and hit him with three quick body blows that stole his wind and hobbled him. All he could do was cover up and circle, staying out of the reach of the worst of her offense, but eating jabs and leg kicks as freely as she wanted to throw them.

“Fuck, I give,” Alex said, waving her off and putting his hands on his knees. He spit his mouthpiece to the mat. “You didn’t get any worse, did you, Ms. Aoki?”

“Why should I have?” Mitsuru fished out her mouthpiece. “I’m just a backup.”

“Right,” Alex said. “That still bothering you?”

“I’m not the one screaming at their ex in the middle of the night. We can talk about my problems some other time.”

“I don’t really wanna…”

“Talk or spar,” Mitsuru said, adjusting her gloves. “Your choice.”

“Fuck it,” Alex said, popping his mouthpiece back in. “Hit me.”

She came forward immediately, but this time Alex held his ground, forcing her back with leg checks and counterpunches. She came in high, and he stayed low and tight. She used her jab to try and open the body, but nothing big got through his guard. He tried the cross again and came up with nothing, but he caught her attempt at a sidekick and tossed her back.

Mitsuru bounced off her back foot and stuck her jab out further than he had thought possible, clipping his nose. He knew she would step in behind the jab, and this time, he thought she might follow high, so he met her with a feint and then a sweeping elbow.

Alex caught her in the neck and staggered her, too surprised at his own success to follow up.

Mitsuru shook it off as she circled. She squared her shoulders and feinted for his head, snapping off a leg kick when he committed. He caught her foot on his shin, and the pain was intense, but from the way she started to limp, Alex thought she might have gotten the worst of it.

The mat was a tiny, painful world, and they fought over every centimeter of it.

Mitsuru steered him relentlessly, forcing him to the edge of the mat and boxing him into the corners, always giving herself a variety of angles from which to attack. Alex knew he could not match her footwork, so he moved conservatively, in constant guard, relying on his range to keep her at bay.

She tagged him a couple times in the side and caught him in the thigh with another kick. He managed to disengage each time without taking more damage, but he was slowing down and sucking wind.

Mitsuru turned and sidestepped, cutting off an advance that he had never intended to make, while Alex circled, forcing her to either step over her own foot or face him on her weak side. She chose to reset her position, and Alex launched an attack immediately when he saw she was off balance.

His first two jabs went wide, but the third clipped her jaw and made her step back.

He followed with a cross on her weaker left side and caught her in the cheek hard enough to turn her head. He grabbed the back of her neck and pulled her toward him, leaping forward with his knee aimed for her sternum. Mitsuru got her hands up in time to block most of the strike, but the elbow he threw after caught her solidly in the ear.

Elated and smelling blood, Alex threw a straight right, and it smacked into Mitsuru’s shoulder.

He pushed through her guard, eating a pair of jabs in his chin and his swollen nose, but he got hold of her neck, and threw another high inside knee. He caught her beneath the ribs, earning a grunt, and pulled back for an elbow strike.

Mitsuru seized hold of his collar and his belt, but before he could react, she tugged and rotated, pulling him smoothly across her hip and slamming him into the mat. He hit the foam pad hard, the impact knocking the air from his lungs. He brought his knees in to protect his body and raised his hands to shield his head, but she grabbed hold of his left arm, falling flat on her back and then pulling his arm across her chest. Her legs whipped around his shoulder, sinking in a triangle, while she pulled his arm straight, using her hip as a fulcrum.

Alex tapped out before she could hyperextend his elbow.

They rolled into seated positions, and then stayed there, Mitsuru sitting neat and formal, while Alex sprawled out on the other side of the mat. Both were sweating and out of breath, their faces dotted with red welts.

“Not bad,” Mitsuru said, grabbing a towel from her gym bag. “You’ve gotten better.”

“The trauma module had an eight-week jujitsu course, for some reason,” Alex said. “I guess Rebecca couldn’t figure out what I liked, so she loaded up my sim with yoga and exercise.”

“She knew perfectly well what you like,” Mitsuru said. “She just didn’t feel like building you a simulation out of anime and pornography.”

“That’s the old me you’re talking about,” Alex said, grinning. “I’ve got a girlfriend these days.”

“Congratulations, I suppose.”

“Thanks.”

“You really have improved,” Mitsuru said. “They never asked me to teach before you arrived, you know.”

“Really? That seems strange. They always seemed shorthanded at the Academy.”

“They were. They just didn’t just trust me around the students.”

“I don’t think anyone in Central trusts either of us. Or Ms. Gallow, for that matter. We’re basically monsters, you know.”

“I know better than anyone. The goal, with you as well as myself, was always the production of a useful monster,” Mitsuru said. “Do you want to tell me why you woke me up, or do I need to beat you up again?”

“I’m not sure,” Alex said, reaching for his gloves. “I feel like I almost had you there.”

They geared up and took their stances.

Every movement and every gasp echoed in the emptiness of the vacant gym, and the mat would jerk across the court floor if they both moved at the same time.

Mitsuru surged forward, sliding in beneath Alex’s guard, and tripped him, carrying him immediately to the ground. She whipped her elbow across his face until he was forced to roll to his back, and then she jumped on him, putting him in a body triangle and isolating one of his arms.

He fought for several futile seconds before she got the choke in.

He tapped out before she applied any pressure.

Mitsuru released the hold and Alex crawled away, coughing as she resumed her former cross-legged posture.

“Are you ready to talk?”

Alex nodded, lying flat on his back.

Mitsuru took a towel and a pair of water bottles from her gym bag. She tossed one bottle to Alex before opening the other herself.

“You were yelling at Emily,” Mitsuru observed, wiping herself with the towel. “Did she do something to you, or was it the other way around?”

“It was no one’s fault but my own,” Alex admitted. “I’m just the last to figure out what’s going on, as usual.”

Torn between the temptation to stare as Mitsuru wiped the sweat from her body entirely unselfconsciously, or prudently looking away until she was done, Alex settled on watching intently from the corner of his eye, and therefore maintaining plausible deniability.

That felt to him like an acceptable compromise.

“You never graduated from the Academy, nor were you even partially trained as an Auditor,” Mitsuru reminded him. “I spent years doing exercises and simulations before I was put in the field as an Auditor. You only spent a few weeks in the Program. You shouldn’t feel bad about unavoidable ignorance.”

“This was probably avoidable. Emily’s right when she says I don’t listen. She’s been dropping hints since she pulled me out of the Outer Dark – shit, maybe even longer than that.”

“The choice between two women?” Mitsuru looked annoyed. “That’s why I’m not asleep in bed?”

“That’s not it. I already made a complete mess of that decision,” Alex said. “This is more a life-or-death issue. There’s a bad thing coming, Ms. Aoki. The Church of Sleep. Do you know what I’m talking about?”

Mitsuru gave him a strange look, then she nodded.

“Emily told me,” Mitsuru said, turning away. “You can call me Mitsuru. When we are alone, and not in the field. Never on duty as Auditors, or as your instructor, should either of us ever return to the Academy.” She shot Alex a glare, and he straightened up automatically. “Are we clear?”

“Yeah, sure,” Alex stammered, not sure what he done. “Of course!”

“Very well, then,” Mitsuru said. “What is it about the Church that has you screaming your head off outside my window, Alex?”

“The Church is coming for Eerie, but you probably already know that,” Alex said. “I’ve only known about that for a couple of days.”

“A difficult situation for the Changeling.”

“I think she’s handling it better than I am.”

“That does not surprise me.”

Alex winced.

“That’s what I would have expected.”

“I get it, okay? Anyway, John Parson, he’s an agent of the Church gone rogue, or something to that effect. He’s a dick.”

“I agree. Why does he matter?”

“I guess he, like, invented the Anathema,” Alex said. “He made them with his protocol, somehow. It’s almost like he infects people. He replaces every cell in their body with nanites, cloned from the ones in his own body. He’s not really a person. He’s, like, a small part of the Church, broken off somehow. Right now, he’s doing his own thing, but I guess when the Church shows up, he becomes part of it again, whether he likes it or not. When that happens, all the Anathema he created will fucking dissolve.”

“Really?”

“I think so,” Alex said. “That’s what I’ve been told. It’ll be awful.”

“It sounds like it. I see the problem,” Mitsuru said, tossing the towel in her bag. “For a chance at saving Eerie, you must lose Emily for certain. Or, perhaps you were thinking of doing it the other way?”

“No,” Alex said. “Eerie’s the important – that’s not to say I don’t, or, that Emily isn’t – damn it. That’s the whole problem, right there,” Alex said. “I’ve lost both of them already, Mitsuru. I lost Emily to the Anathema and I lost Eerie to the Thule Cartel. In a couple days, I might lose both again. I will lose one of them, that’s for sure.”

“I see.”

Alex waited expectantly, but Mitsuru just sipped her water and stared at him.

“Well? What do you think?”

“I think you need to make up your mind,” Mitsuru said. “You’ll lose everything if you don’t decide.”

“I know that! I obviously know that!”

“You asked.”

“What would you do in my place?”

Mitsuru considered it seriously.

“You are certain that saving both is impossible?”

“That’s what everyone keeps telling me.”

“Then I would start by talking to Eerie, who, as I understand it, wields a protocol that is, for all intents and purposes, impossible,” Mitsuru said. “I would ask her for help.”

Alex nodded slowly, running his fingers through his sweaty hair.

“I guess I could try,” he said. “She won’t like it. She’s friends with Emily, I think, and I’m sure she’ll want to help, but she won’t like it, that I’m asking. She doesn’t, uh, doesn’t completely trust me where Emily is concerned.”

“I do not blame her for that.”

“Yeah.”

“I know she will be upset at you for asking,” Mitsuru said. “I suspect that she will be much more upset when she discovers that she could have done something and was denied the opportunity by your rank cowardice.”

“I really wish you wouldn’t put it like that. Rank sounds so bad. Couldn’t it just be normal cowardice?”

“You are my pupil. I do not plan to allow you to make a farce out of your life with impunity.”

“Eerie is gonna be pissed.”

“She has every right to be, but I think she will help you regardless,” Mitsuru said. “Perhaps you could make it up to her some other way?”

***

Alistair’s mind was assailed by the wildest variety of hue and color he had ever known, green deeper than a showpiece lawn, red like the dying sun expanding to consume the Earth, and more beside that, colors without name or designation, colors from spectrums that he had never previously imagined.

He opened his eyes, but it did nothing to change the onslaught of hue and shade.

The color was followed by music.

Not an auditory hallucination, but bar after bar of sheet music, written in glowing lines across the darkness. Alistair could practically hear each sonata and aria being played as he read the notes, but the compositions were new to him. He read operas and symphonies, ballets and choral compositions, pieces for quartets and full orchestras. He absorbed an entire body of music, the product of a time and a culture with which he was unfamiliar.

It was some time later that he remembered that he could not read music.

The music was driven away by an ache in his belly that swelled as soon as he noticed it, moving from an annoyance to a crisis. He hobbled through the uncertain dark, one arm out looking for a wall, the other wrapped around his middle, hunched over like he bore a great weight on his shoulders. His abdominal muscles cramped and contracted, and he shivered uncontrollably.

His eyes ached with the effort of trying to see into the dark, so he closed them again.

The nausea became a throbbing headache at the base of his skull. He sunk down into the water, until the source of the ache was submerged, and made his way further like that, his head turned to the ceiling so that he could breathe.

He moved until it was no longer possible to go further, and then he collapsed in the first shallow corner that he found, his body wracked with pain.

Alistair waited it out, silent and unmoving.

The waves of agony came and went. He explored his surroundings during the calm periods between the spasms, feeling along the stone with his hands.

His third attempt located a stone pedestal, not unlike the one where he had first tasted the water.

Alistair climbed wearily on top of the slab and felt his body slide into the perfect grooves in the stone.

Wondering whether he had ever even managed to leave the vault, Alistair let his eyes drift closed, letting the colors and the music and the pain take him. He no longer had the strength to try and hold it back.

Lying with his face just above the surface of the dark water, Alistair twitched and shook, his mind burning feverishly with psychoactive toxins.

***

The roof was bigger and higher, and there was more wind than he remembered, but the setting was similar enough, standing on an institutional building beneath a black, starless sky, that he felt quite nostalgic.

“It’s been a while,” Vivik said, helping himself to a beer from the cooler. “Like the old days, right?”

Alex nodded, but did not pay him much attention. He was holding his still unopened beer against a rapidly forming bruise on his cheek.

“Just like the old days, I don’t really get why you are here,” Renton said, already well into his second can. “Shouldn’t you be banging your freak girlfriend while you have the chance?”

“Shut the fuck up,” Alex said, finally opening his beer. “Anyway, she’s asleep.”

“You’ve got till the end of the week, right? Not even three full days?”

Alex nodded, just avoiding choking when he swallowed wrong. As it was, he coughed and his eyes watered, while Renton laughed at him.

“Why are you here? I say get some while it’s still around.” Renton smiled. “You don’t want to live with regrets, do you?”

Alex eyed Renton’s bandages and the pair of crutches leaning against some sort of machinery behind him and wondered how wrong it would be to beat up a guy just out of the infirmary.

“I bet she would be into it,” Renton continued merrily. “Girls get really permissive when they know they’re about to lose you. You could probably get away with just about anything right now.”

Alex decided that he could live with whatever criticism came his way for battering an invalid. He started to stand, but Vivik put a hand on his shoulder.

“That’s too much, Renton. You need to calm down. I think you’ve actually gotten meaner,” Vivik said, trying to defuse the situation. “What the hell happened to you?”

“Some bitch connected my dick to a car battery with alligator clips,” Renton said, finishing his beer and tossing the empty can over his shoulder. “Just another Saturday night.”

“That was Lóa Thule. I saw part of that, in one of my windows,” Vivik said. “I’m sorry. We sent Leigh as soon as I figured out where you were, but we couldn’t get her to you any faster than we did.”

“Leigh was there to get Katya and Eerie out of that hellhole, not me.” Renton gestured to Vivik, who got him another beer from the cooler. “Not that I mind. I’ll take any rescue on offer. Anyway, Katya’s alright. I appreciate you bailing her out of there.”

“Really?” Alex gave him a skeptical look. “I’m surprised you care.”

“That just goes to show,” Renton replied. “You don’t know the first thing about me.”

“I don’t?” Alex winced as he rubbed his sore knee. “I know you’re an asshole.”

“You don’t know shit,” Renton said. “Let me enlighten you. Katya is one of the few people in the world that I truly respect, and the fact that she thinks highly of you is the only reason why I might have even a shred of respect for you.”

“I don’t want your respect,” Alex said. “I want you to watch your mouth when you talk about Eerie.”

“I’m just saying that I wouldn’t let my girl sleep alone in your situation,” Renton said. “If that bothers you, then it does. Katya likes you pretty well, you know, but she thinks you’re a bit of a twerp.”

“Who fucking cares? Compared to Katya, I probably am. You know what she thinks of you? She thinks you’re a creep and a pervert,” Alex said heatedly. “That’s what everyone thinks.”

“That’s not exactly a surprise. Katya has been giving me shit for years,” Renton shrugged. “I don’t mind. It’s worked out for me so far.”

“Except for the part where you were captured and tortured,” Alex said. “How did that happen? I thought you were supposed to be good.”

“How many times have you been captured?” Renton shot back. “I thought you were supposed to be an Auditor.”

“I’m undertrained and over my head. I’m brand new at this. I’m supposed to suck. What’s your excuse?”

“I really wanted to fuck Lóa Thule,” Renton admitted. “I had an idea what the consequences might be. It was almost worth it.”

“I should have known you would say that,” Vivik said, giving Renton a look that bordered on admiration. “You’re so single-minded.”

“If I admit that, will you both admit that you are fucking cowards?” Renton grinned. “Alex is out here with us, instead of taking advantage of poor Eerie’s situation…”

“You need to shut up about that,” Alex said, his face flushed. “I’m not warning you again.”

“…while you aren’t even trying with Emily at all, Vivik. What’s up with that? We all know you like her,” Renton said. “It’s painfully obvious how bad you want her.”

“Yeah, I do,” Vivik said. “It’s true.”

“Why not at least try, then?” Renton attempted to scratch beneath his inflatable cast with a superfluous bottle opener. “What have you got to lose?”

“We are friends,” Vivik said quietly. “That matters to me.”

“I knew it,” Renton said. “She’s got you trapped in the friend zone. You need to take the initiative. You can’t let her dictate your relationship.”

“There’s no such thing as the friend zone, I’m not ‘trapped’, and no one is dictating anything,” Vivik said. “We’re friends. I respect her. Like you were just talking about with Katya. It’s the same thing.”

“Well, maybe,” Renton said. “Respect aside, I’d still fuck the shit out of Katya.”

“I hate you,” Alex said. “That’s my cousin, you realize?”

“Big deal. She’s cute enough. You would have hit that too, before you found out she was related.”

“It isn’t the same,” Vivik said. “I really don’t want to lose what we have. I value our relationship.”

“You have nothing, and it’s not different at all,” Renton said. “Emily won’t need you forever. These early days will pass, and you’ll end up watching from a distance while other people get closer and become more important to her, and you’ll wish you made your move when you had the chance, when you still mattered.”

“That’s dark,” Vivik said, sipping his beer and looking shaken. “Your world view is skewed.”

“Yeah. What’s up with you tonight?” Alex said. “Do have some sort of problem with Vivik? Or me?”

“I’ve got so many problems with you,” Renton said. “You’re an entitled twat, and you don’t deserve anything you’ve been given. You don’t even deserve Eerie, crazy as she is, and you sure didn’t deserve Emily for one second.”

“If you weren’t hurt, I would beat the shit out of you,” Alex said. “Swear to God.”

“If I were one-hundred percent, you couldn’t lay a finger on me, and we both know it,” Renton said, gesturing at the cooler. “Get out of my face and get me a beer.”

Alex’s hands shook.

“Fuck you,” he said, turning his back on Renton. “Get it yourself.”

Vivik quietly went to the cooler.

“I’m dead serious about the girls, too,” Renton continued. “You both waste time like you’ve got it to spare. You don’t, though, and you’ll regret it if you don’t do something about it.”

“Like your miserable ass?” Alex smirked, watching the can closely when Vivik tossed Renton a beer. “Is that what this is about?”

“I’ve got my regrets,” Renton confirmed, cracking open the can. “Sad old Uncle Renton, that’s me. The two of you could stand to learn from my example.”

Renton tried to drink, but only a bit of slush leaked out of the mouth of the can. He shook the can cautiously and found it to be completely frozen.

“You could stand to learn to watch your mouth where Eerie is concerned,” Alex said. “I won’t warn you again.”

Renton grimaced and set the frozen beer aside.

“I’m not the one ignoring the girl I’m about to lose,” Renton said. “Go ahead and think I’m crass, or whatever you like, but I promise you that three days from now you’re going to be right back here, bitching and moaning and wishing you spent more time with her.”

They were all quiet. Vivik watched nervously as Alex stewed, while Renton drank and admired the empty sky, looking entirely unworried.

Alex nodded slowly.

Vivik grinned and went to finish his beer.

“You’ll wish you’d spent more time inside of her,” Renton said, adding a crude gesture to illustrate his point. “If you know what I mean.”

***

Emily stomped downstairs to the kitchen, wearing her nightdress and blushing furiously.

“There’s just no point in my even trying, is there? How rude! How inconsiderate.” She put on the kettle, took a cookie from the cute ceramic jar on the counter, and then sat at the kitchen table with a sigh. “Stupid gross boys! Don’t bother keeping your feelings to yourselves! I just won’t get any sleep at all tonight. It isn’t as if all our lives depend on my performance tomorrow!”

***

After returning from the roof, Vivik lost himself in his windows. He did his best to put aside his guilt and worry, directing the cluster of gleaming windows with the ease of a deity going about his business, his head so full of equations that he felt they should have come bleeding out of his ears and pouring from his eyes. Vivik felt a competency that bordered on boredom as he surveyed the windows, rotating between views and sorting for relevance.

He also felt overlooked, and still a bit drunk, but that only made sense.

He was a spectator even in his own life, or at least that was what Vivik was starting to suspect.

That was fine, too. Looking through windows was always interesting.

The equations did their job. The windows he did not want to see stayed far away and invisibly small.

His favorite window remained front and center, no matter how he tried to delude himself. It currently showed Emily doing the dishes in the kitchen of her townhouse. She was dressed for bed, with her hair down.

Vivik reached for the window, meaning to swipe it away, but then he just stood there with his arm out.

Emily smiled, just slightly, as she scrubbed the pans with a blue sponge.

He was startled by a knock at the door.

A new window immediately snapped into place.

Leigh Feld was at his door, wearing running shorts and a pink tank-top despite the chill of the evening. She looked very impatient, perhaps even annoyed, though Vivik could not imagine what he had done.

He quickly wrapped his turban and headed for the door.

She rang the bell twice in the time it took him to descend the stairs.

“Just a moment!” Vivik fumbled with the bolt. “Hello?”

He opened the door and found the vampire scowling, her finger hovering over the bell.

She did not say anything.

“What’s going on?” Vivik felt very conscious of being in his linen sleepwear, though Leigh was scarcely better attired. “Are you okay, Leigh?”

“Yes,” Leigh said. “Can I come in?”

“Of course,” Vivik said, holding the door for her and trying not to think about old stories, and the general folly of inviting vampires inside. “Did Emily send you?”

“Not exactly,” Leigh said, looking around his living room. “You keep things pretty tidy, huh?”

Vivik nodded, feeling mildly embarrassed.

“I’m not a neat freak or anything, but,” he gestured at the spotless coffee table, the neatly arranged pillows on the couch, and the carefully swept floors, “well, I suppose you could say that I don’t like clutter.”

“That’s good,” Leigh said. “I’m the same way. Except I don’t own anything, really, and I mostly eat for fun, so I don’t have to pick up all that much.”

“Is that so?” Vivik shifted nervously. “Can I get you something to drink?”

More vampire stories in his head. Ridiculous.

“I’m fine.” Leigh glanced at the stairs. “Is the rest of your place this neat?”

“Oh, uh, yes,” Vivik said, flustered. “I guess that it is.”

“Bedroom included?”

Vivik nodded, his stomach doing a series of near-perfect backflips.

“That’s good. Want to show it to me?”

Leigh looked at him, then looked away.

“Uh, what?” Vivik gave her a bewildered look. “Why would you…? I mean, it’s nothing special. All of these townhouses have the same layout.”

“Do I really have to spell it out?” Leigh sighed. “I just got back from the field, and I’m probably going right back out tomorrow. The last few weeks have been crazy and intense, and I’m feeling stressed. I’m looking for some company. Are you interested?”

“I’m, uh, I…this is so unexpected!” Vivik gestured frantically. “I had no idea that you felt that way about me!”

“Don’t get me wrong. I don’t have a crush on you, and I don’t want to go out or anything,” Leigh said. “I’ve been working nonstop for weeks. I betrayed one boss, and my new boss is even more demanding. I’ve done nothing but sneak around and get into fights. I can’t even remember how many times Alistair stabbed me. It’s been…well, it’s been pretty fun, honestly.”

Leigh grinned at him, and Vivik relaxed just a little.

“It’s what I’m built for, and I mean that literally. I like what I do, but the schedule lately has been a little…” Leigh shrugged. “I’m not a machine. I have outside interests.”

“That’s good,” Vivik said. “Everyone should.”

“Sometimes I need to let off some steam.”

“Who doesn’t?”

“Emily told me I’m back at it tomorrow, and probably will be for a while. This is my breather,” Leigh said. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but there’s basically no single guys around the Far Shores right now, at least that I know enough to talk to.”

“Oh,” Vivik said. “Huh.”

“Don’t get upset,” Leigh said. “It’s just the truth. There’s Renton and Alex, and that’s…ugh. No way and no thank you. Then, there’s you. I don’t mind you, Vivik.”

“Oh.” Vivik looked at her for the first time in a little while. “Really?”

“Yes. So, I asked Emily…”

“You did what?” Vivik felt dizzy. “Oh my God.”

“Don’t freak out! I didn’t want to bother if you wouldn’t be receptive. It’s too embarrassing, and I don’t have time to figure it out for myself,” Leigh said. “She didn’t tell any secrets or anything. She told me that I might not be wasting my time, that’s all.”

Vivik nodded, not at all sure why.

“So, am I?”

“Are you…?”

“Am I wasting my time?” Leigh said. “Are you going to invite me upstairs?”

“I, uh, I don’t know,” Vivik said. “This is so sudden!”

“Listen, just, don’t make more of this than it is. There’s nothing to read into.”

“I guess I just don’t know what to do,” Vivik said. “I mean, I’m flattered, and, and I do…you are beautiful,” he said, blushing. “I just never thought…”

“Maybe you should shut up,” Leigh said, her fingers brushing one of his arms, “instead of talking yourself out of a sure thing.”

“You are so right,” Vivik said, with conviction. “Would you like to come upstairs?”

***

Emily smiled as she finished the counters and folded her apron.

“Good for you, Vivik,” she said quietly, turning the lights off as she left the kitchen. “Was that bad of me, I wonder? I’m meddling again, aren’t I?”

She climbed the stairs slowly, preoccupied with shared joy and mild regret.

There were still a reasonable number of hours left in the night. She had meant to read a little before she went to sleep, but she decided that washing down an Ambien with a glass of red wine was the better option.

***

Katya was not impeded by the dark, so she was perfectly fine raiding the snack cupboard in the commissary without turning on the lights. The ability was a relic from her time in assassin’s training, and from the many surgeries that had put her back together again, after everything went wrong.

It came in handy on occasion.

Deciding between brownie bites and shortbread cookies at one in the morning, for example.

I’m going to turn on the light, okay?

Katya sighed and left off her rummaging, going with the shortbread.

She had no desire for company in the first place, and even less so barefoot and in her pajamas, but her visitor was not one to take a hint.

She blinked very hard, in a certain, just-so manner. When the lights came on a second later, her eyes did not need to adjust, and she was not dazzled.

Renton stood at the door to the commissary, with a beer in one hand and most of a six-pack in the other. He only had one crutch, and he had started to bleed through a couple of his bandages, which were dotted with dull red stains.

“You shouldn’t eat so late,” he admonished her, limping into the room. “You’ll get fat, and then you’ll die alone.”

“Do you always have to immediately remind me how much you suck?” Katya hopped onto the counter beside the sink. “I’ll have you know I skipped dinner.”

“That doesn’t mean you’re allowed to eat cookies,” Renton scolded, leaning against the counter on the other side of the sink. “Those are just sugar and fat.”

“Who are you to talk?” Katya tore open the package, and pointedly shoved an entire piece of shortbread into her mouth. “You’re drinking beer,” she said, around the cookie. “Lots of carbs in beer.”

“Yeah, but there’s also alcohol,” Renton said. “You want one?”

Katya nodded. Renton tossed her a can without so much a glance in her direction, which landed directly in her waiting hands.

She knew that Renton not bothering with pretense was a bad sign.

Telepaths were trained from childhood to disguise their abilities and vastly heightened perception. No one appreciated knowing that a stranger was reading their mind.

Katya finished her package of shortbread and brushed the crumbs from her lap.

“You must have struck out with everyone else if you are here with me,” Katya observed. “Are you off your game?”

“Must be,” Renton said. “Look at the state of me.”

“Yeah.”

Renton put his beer down with a bit too much force, and it foamed on to the counter.

“I’ve never been as jealous of anyone as I was with Timor,” Renton said, spitting out the words as if he resented their existence. “I know exactly how Anastasia felt about him. I could feel it every time we were all in the same room. She thinks she’s got perfect control, but I knew.”

“I thought you might,” Katya said. “I knew it, too, but I’m not sure how much Timor ever noticed.”

“He knew, but he thought it was cute, a passing crush from a girl he admired and loved like a little sister, the bastard,” Renton said. “He had you, too. The two of you were like this,” Renton said, holding up intertwined fingers. “You were always in his corner, even when you were just kids.”

“That seems natural to me. We were all that we had.”

“I was given to Anastasia, same as you. But I came alone. No sister to look after me, like Timor. Everyone liked Timor, so he was never really alone.”

“Yeah,” Katya said. “He was hard not to like.”

Renton nodded, a sour expression on his face.

“Are you going to take Emily up on her offer?” Katya asked, opening the last beer. “You going back to Central tomorrow?”

“Yeah. I need to get back to Ana. She’s not safe till I’m with her.”

“She’s not safe until every member of the Thule Cartel is dead,” Katya said. “You know that.”

“Spoken like an assassin. There are other ways to resolve conflicts.”

“Spoken like a diplomat. You can’t talk your way out of a blood feud. Josef and Pavel are dead. Ana’s honor demands that she avenge them. That’s not the sort of thing you solve with a conversation.”

“Yeah.” Renton grimaced, and adjusted his cast. “Maybe.”

She handed him what was left of the beer, and he took a swig from it.

“You’re going to try and kill him again, aren’t you?” Renton glanced at her. “You plan on taking Gaul Thule out yourself.”

“Yeah,” Katya said. “I do.”

“For Ana? Or for Timor?”

“Doesn’t matter,” Katya said. “Dead is dead.”

“It fucking matters,” Renton said bitterly. “It makes a big difference to me.”

“What?” Katya gave him a look. “What does that mean?”

“If you are doing this for Ana, that’s a professional disagreement, and we’ve had those before.” Renton crushed the empty can against the counter. “If you are planning on doing it for Timor, well, that’s another thing.”

“Why do you care?”

“You know why. You know the stakes Anastasia set. Did you really think I’d let that opportunity pass me by?”

“She’s not gonna marry you, Renton.” Katya shot a longing glance at the snack cupboard. “She can’t marry anyone who isn’t a member of a Great Family, or there will be a civil war. You have to be realistic.”

“Well, killing Gaul Thule isn’t going to bring your brother back,” Renton said. “You need to be realistic.”

Katya grimaced, then folded her arms, and then laughed.

“Point taken,” she said. “You’re such a dick.”

“Yeah.” Renton shifted uncomfortably. “Don’t take it personally.”

“As long as you do the same,” Katya said. “Deal?”

“Do what you gotta do.” Renton sighed, and looked away. “Just don’t get yourself killed, okay?”

“That’s what you never understood about being an assassin, Renton.” Katya smiled mirthlessly. “We are disposable.”

Twenty-One

Day Five

“My price is merited and extraordinarily high,” Henry North explained, toying with his fountain pen, his wife Sofia standing just beside him. “You will resign, Ms. Levy, and will use your talents and influence to make sure that the Board and the Assembly vote to have me as the next Director.”

“You just come right out and say it, don’t you?” Rebecca winced. “That’s a lot to ask.”

Michael nodded somberly, looking a bit wan from his extended stay in the Academy infirmary, and a shorter stay in the makeshift medical center at the occupied Far Shores.

“We are all very grateful for your assistance with Egill and the Thule Cartel, Lord North,” Michael said. “You seem to have a flair for timely interventions,” he added, eyeing Sofia. “Gratitude has its limits, however.”

“Surely, Mr. Lacroix, but this isn’t just about gratitude, is it?” Henry smiled. “We are discussing necessity. You need me.”

“You want the Directorship,” Rebecca said wonderingly. “You want to control Central. You want my job.”

“In all fairness,” Lord North said, “I think we can all agree that your performance in this role has been very poor.”

Michael coughed into his hand, while Rebecca looked away and muttered beneath her breath.

“We all have limitations,” Sofia offered, with a kindly expression. “You were a remarkable Chief Auditor, and an excellent counselor and administrator at the Academy, Director Levy.”

“This was not a job you sought or asked for, as I recall,” Lord North said, glancing fondly at his wife. “Have you since developed a taste for it?”

“Not at all,” Rebecca said sourly. “I just don’t trust you to wield so much unchecked power. No offense.”

“None taken,” Lord North assured her. “Let us check my power, then, shall we? Instead of ceding the Directorship, you will convene the Board and create a new title. Chief Administrator, perhaps. This new office will have sole discretion over Central’s foreign policy, defense, and economic matters. Then you will resign the Directorship.”

Rebecca opened her mouth to object, and Lord North held up his hand.

“Please, Ms. Levy, allow me to finish,” he said, grinning. “My wife has already anticipated your objections, and I assure that we will address them. Before resigning, you will nominate Mr. Lacroix as the new Director, and I will assure that he receives sufficient votes in the Assembly. While his role will be somewhat diminished, Director Lacroix will hold sole authority over the Academy, its grounds, and its students.”

Rebecca and Michael exchanged an astonished look.

“With all due respect, Lord North,” Rebecca said, “that still leaves the Hegemony in complete control of Central.”

“The Director and the Chief Administrator will both have to approve the Chief Auditor,” Lord North continued. “I would suggest that you, Ms. Levy, would be the ideal candidate for replacing Alice Gallow, who I think we can all agree is in no way qualified to take on a leadership position, her obvious talents in the Audits Department aside.”

“I get the sense that you haven’t been much of a fan of my work,” Rebecca said. “Or Alice’s, for that matter.”

“I have the utmost respect for your talents and achievements in every other role,” Henry North said. “Your work as an Auditor is beyond reproach, and my children absolutely rave about your work at the Academy. Yours as well, Mr. Lacroix.”

“We also understand that you took the position of Director under duress, out of necessity,” Sofia added. “I believe the situation was similar for Mr. Lacroix, regarding becoming an Auditor. We commend your selflessness in taking on responsibility as it was required, and your dedication to the good of Central.”

“This is the most flattery I’ve ever received,” Rebecca observed. “Too bad you want to fire me.”

“Reassign,” Henry corrected. “To a role for which you are better suited, one where you can excel – and act personally as the check to my power that you desire. Who better to assure that I administer Central fairly, and for the benefit of all?”

“Putting aside any other issues,” Michael said, “the Black Sun will never agree to any of this. You won’t get the votes, Lord North.”

“Not in the normal course of things,” Henry agreed. “What if Director Levy were to convene an emergency meeting of the Assembly?”

Rebecca’s jaw dropped.

“Now?”

“It is well within your wartime powers to do so, Director Levy,” Sofia assured her. “The quorum required under those circumstances is quite reduced. Only seven Great Families need to be represented, as I recall.”

“Let me guess,” Rebecca said, shaking her head. “You just happen to have seven.”

“I have more than that,” Henry said mildly, twirling his pen. “The invitation would be open to all, save the cartels in the Thule orbit. Treason would obviously disqualify them from participation.”

“And almost all the Black Sun cartels are trapped outside of Central,” Rebecca said wearily. “You have this all planned out, don’t you?”

“I married well,” Henry agreed. “It has been to my advantage.”

“It would be the best thing for Central,” Sofia said. “Think about it. If Anastasia Martynova returns to Central after the Thule Cartel has been expunged, she will have a comfortable majority in the Assembly, a huge military advantage, and economic control of all interests outside of Central. She will be able to dictate terms to all of us.”

“It would be even worse, should the Thule Cartel prevail,” Henry said. “As they almost did, just a few hours ago.”

“You make a convincing argument,” Rebecca said. “What if I don’t agree?”

“You have no Auditors, and many refugees and children to look after,” Henry said. “How will you protect them, Director?”

“I could order you to do so,” Rebecca said. “I’d be within my rights to compel you.”

“I am already involved in a cartel feud, and can therefore claim precedence,” Henry responded. “You know as well as I do that the authority of Central does not extend to cartel matters. You could attempt to compel a truce between our forces and Thule, but do you think they would acquiesce, even to a meeting?”

“When Anastasia returns, she’ll still have her majority,” Michael pointed out. “What is to stop her from deposing you?”

“The subsidiary titles associated with the Thule Cartel will be redistributed,” Henry said. “As the Chief Administrator, I will allocate a portion of them to deserving families.”

“A siege, then. She can grab all the fixed apport locations,” Rebecca said. “Starve you out. Central can’t feed or power itself.”

“It won’t come to that,” Sofia assured them. “We plan to tender an offer to restore all of the estates and rights in Central associated with the Black Sun to Lady Martynova, a direct exchange for the mundane commercial interests associated with the Hegemony. The Black Sun will still hold a slight majority in the Assembly and control half the seats on the Board.”

“We also intend to deed her the Thule title and a portion of their estates,” Henry said, setting the pen down on the desk, atop a stack of documents printed on vellum. “As restitution for her losses.”

“You’ve really thought of everything, haven’t you?” Rebecca pinched her lower lip. “You’re awfully confident that all of this will work the way you expect.”

“I trust everyone involved to know a good deal when they see one,” Henry said. “It is no secret that you do not want to be the Director. Everyone knows that Lady Martynova prefers politics and diplomacy to open warfare. The residents of Central prefer that the powers be in balance, particularly after this conflict and its attendant horrors. I am simply proposing that we all be placed in our rightful and ideal roles.”

“With you in charge,” Rebecca said, giving him a sour look.

“You and Mr. Lacroix will be in a position to oppose me, should you think it necessary. We will form a triumvirate, with the Chief Administrator in charge of Central, the Director in control of the Academy, and the Chief Auditor enforcing peace and compliance. The Auditors will be an independent entity, limited to their traditional role of enforcing the Agreement. A new Agreement, rather, between the three of us, to divide power for the benefit of all.”

“You would still have the controlling hand,” Michael said. “That worries me.”

“You and the Black Sun will be adequately positioned to veto any action that there is broad consensus against,” Sofia explained. “We are not proposing a dictatorship.”

“You will not get a better offer, Director,” Henry said, sliding the paper forward. “Consider your other options, and whether the Thule Cartel or the Black Sun would be so inclined to generosity.”

“Chinga tu puta madre,” Rebecca spat. “You aren’t being generous, Henry. We both know you don’t have the power to make this happen without our cooperation.”

“Alliances have been built on shakier foundations,” Henry replied. “We need each other, Rebecca. Isn’t that better than trust?”

“Not necessarily,” Michael said, pulling the document over and putting on his reading glasses. “We have been betrayed before, Lord North.”

“As have I,” Henry agreed. “Gaul Thule was once someone that I would have called a friend, above even our familial bonds.”

“You know what’s interesting to me? Out of everyone involved in this mess, you seem to have lost the least.” Rebecca crossed her legs, unable to sit entirely still. “Even the Auditors got fucked. You, though? You’re fine, safe in your estate, family accounted for, interests looked after.”

“I am a precognitive, Director,” Sofia reminded her. “Perhaps you have overlooked that?”

“Everyone has precognitives,” Rebecca countered. “Are you really that much better than all of them? Better than Gaul?”

“Not necessarily superior,” Sofia said. “Smarter, perhaps. Better prepared, certainly.”

“That’s just it,” Rebecca said. “Why are you so ready for this?”

“Some sort of conflict was inevitable,” Henry said. “I have done little aside from consolidating my position and waiting for an opportune moment. Is that such a remarkable strategy?”

“Okay, here’s the deal,” Rebecca said. “If Mikey says that the documents are okay…”

“They look fine so far,” Michael said. “Nothing irregular.”

“If he still thinks that, after he’s read the whole thing,” Rebecca added, glaring at Michael, “I’ll sign, but you gotta do something for me first.”

“I’m always pleased to assist the Director,” Henry said affably. “What can I do for you?”

“I have some reservations,” Rebecca said. “You don’t have the best reputation, Henry, and neither does the North Family. There are rumors.”

“I’ve only got one question,” Michael said, still absorbed in the fine print. “I’m quite concerned about it, though.”

“I got it, Mikey,” Rebecca said, putting a hand on his arm and giving him a look of concern. “I already know what to ask.”

“Please, ask your questions,” Henry said, leaning back in his chair. “I have nothing to hide.”

“That may be,” Rebecca said softly. “You sure you want your wife here for this?”

“I am not just his wife,” Sofia said tersely. “I am a Lady of a Great Family, and I go or stay of my own volition.”

“Cool, cool,” Rebecca said. “You just might not want to hear some of this stuff.”

“I have no secrets from my wife,” Henry said. “Ask away, Director.”

“First question,” Rebecca said. “Are you in possession of any forbidden lexicon? You know what I mean. Anything from the Liturgy or the Requiem? Any Consuming Words?”

Sofia started, and Henry placed his hand over his wife’s.

“Of course, Director,” he said smoothly. “I am in possession of the Consuming Word used in the recent attack on Hegemony leadership, which is recorded in segments on several audio files.”

“That’s a violation of the Agreement,” Rebecca said. “A serious one.”

“We came upon a recording of the incident at the Hegemonic Council incidentally, before the current troubles began,” Henry explained. “We neither sought, nor researched, nor developed any such prohibited linguistic weaponry. All we have done is secure a potential weapon of mass destruction. How then have we done anything to contravene the Agreement?”

“You didn’t report it to me,” Rebecca reminded him. “You’re supposed to do that.”

“We only recently realized what we had,” Sofia said. “By the time we were certain of it, the conflict had begun, and we had no way of contacting the Administration.”

“You’ve had enough time,” Rebecca said. “I don’t buy it.”

“You don’t have to,” Henry said. “As Central is currently in a state of conflict, I am within my rights to retain possession until such a time as the Administration can guarantee safe disposal of the Word.”

“You’re probably right,” Rebecca said begrudgingly. “Bastard.”

Lord North smiled and waited.

“Okay, then,” Rebecca said, her hands playing about aimlessly. “What the fuck were you doing the night that Mitzi rescued Alex? That was an Audits job. The Hegemony shouldn’t have even been aware of the situation, much less have one of their top Operators in the field just in case.”

“Gaul asked me the same question,” Henry said, with an airy gesture that made Rebecca want to strangle him. “I’ll tell you what I told him. I was in the area on unrelated, private Hegemony business. When young Mr. Warner’s Etheric Signature activated, it was like the sun rising at midnight. Having already finished my prior obligation, I resolved to investigate the source of such a remarkable phenomenon. Any of you would have done the same.”

“I don’t know,” Rebecca said, scratching her arm. “That’s a pretty huge coincidence.”

“I realize how unlikely it all sounds,” Henry said. “Unlikely is not the same as impossible, however, Director.”

“I don’t believe in coincidence,” Michael said, glancing up from the papers. “With all due respect, Lord North.”

“What do you believe in, Mr. Lacroix?”

“Acts of God and acts of man,” Michael said levelly. “That’s all.”

“Then perhaps the responsibility for this can be laid at the feet of God,” Henry said, chuckling. “We do not have time to argue semantics, my friends. Is that all?”

“No. I have a question,” Michael said, taking off his glasses, his eyes fixed on Lord North’s serene expression. “It’s important.”

“I said I would handle this, Mikey,” Rebecca said, placing her fingers gently on Michael’s wrist. “We’ve recently been made aware of some disturbing rumors, Lord North.”

“Very disturbing,” Michael corrected sternly.

“I’m not surprised,” Henry said, with a bit of a sigh. “Jealousy and success run hand-in-hand in Central.”

“Let’s start with what we know,” Rebecca said, fighting the urge to leap to her feet and pace, the nicotine fit more than even her protocol could counteract. “Several years ago, an unsanctioned Operation was conducted by the Black Sun, targeting this very manor. It was supposedly a personal vendetta, retribution for a prior unauthorized action. A hit on your daddy, or you, or the whole family.”

“Those were the bad old days before Gaul managed his balancing act,” Sofia said. “Such things did happen.”

“It was a difficult time,” Henry said, looking at Sofia warmly. “Much like the chaos we contend with at present.”

“I’m assuming that’s as close to a confirmation as I’m going to get,” Rebecca said. “The hit was obviously not successful. We – the Auditors, I mean – investigated a bit, but your dad pulled the ‘cartel business’ card, and we backed off.”

“That is the way the Agreement works,” Henry said. “The checks and balances you are so fond of, Director.”

“Two days later, something else happened,” Rebecca said, redoing her ponytail. “There was another unsanctioned Operation. A second Black Sun raid on your family manor, involving multiple Operators and fatalities on both sides.”

“That is a rather outlandish rumor,” Henry said, with a rueful smile. “An incident like the one you are describing would be very difficult to conceal from all parties.”

“I’d think it would be impossible to hide. I’d think that it would start a war,” Rebecca said. “An outrage like that should have demanded a response from the Hegemony, but that isn’t what happened, is it?”

“This is your story, Director,” Sofia said. “Not ours.”

“Nothing happened. No complaint was filed, no retribution was taken. Everyone walked away and pretended that it didn’t happen. That’s strange, right? Not how the cartels usually handle things, particularly back then,” Rebecca said. “Your father had a reputation, Henry.”

“You began with rumor, and now you support it with still more rumor,” Henry said. “My father was a powerful and successful man, one who worked his entire life to successfully restore the standing of his family and his cartel from generations of ignominy and destitution. It is only natural that he would have made enemies along the way. If they were unwilling to oppose him to his face, at least they could whisper about him behind his back.”

“That could be,” Rebecca said. “That happens. Of course, there are stories.”

A look of annoyance flitted across Henry North’s features.

“More rumors, I suppose?”

“Rumors at best,” Rebecca said, nodding. “Some of it doesn’t even rise to that level of certainty.”

“I’m not surprised,” Henry said. “This is nothing more than idle gossip.”

“Granted, but it’s worrisome,” Rebecca said. “I don’t suppose you wanna tell me what actually happened back then?”

“I’m happy to,” Henry said. “Nothing. There was no such attack, much less two of them.”

“I thought you might say that,” Rebecca said. “You wanna know what I think?”

“Not particularly,” Henry said tersely. “If we might proceed with our business, Director…”

“Here’s what I think,” Rebecca said, tapping her fingers against his desk. “I think that Anastasia Martynova sent a hit squad after your father. Which is a mystery in and of itself, because she has never been one for rash behavior, even as a child.”

Neither of the Norths said a word, but Sofia stepped just a little closer to her husband’s chair.

“Let’s say that there were three Black Sun assassins,” Rebecca said. “Two Operators, and one in training. I’ll probably never know exactly who the first two assassins were. I assume you found out, before you had their bodies pulped into pig feed. That’s how your dad used to do it, right? All the cool cartels were using vats of acid by that point, but your dad was old school. The third assassin, that trainee I mentioned, well, I think that might have been one of our Auditors. Katya Zharova. You know her?”

“Only by reputation,” Henry said, shrugging. “I opposed her nomination to Audits, of course. An assassin from any faction is a completely inappropriate choice for an Auditor.”

“Rumor is, your father captured all three assassins, and he was pissed. Maybe because they were after him, maybe because they were after you,” Rebecca said, leaning her elbows on North’s desk. “Story goes, he had ’em chained up in the basement for days. Your father took this all very personally, didn’t he, Henry?”

“I already told you that none of this happened,” Henry said calmly. “There was no assassination attempt, and therefore no assassins, captured or otherwise.”

“Interrogation is one thing,” Rebecca said, staring at Henry. “Revenge is another.”

“This is outrageous slander,” Sofia said. “We will make a complaint to the Assembly.”

“Knock yourself out,” Rebecca said. “You know that torturing prisoners is strictly governed and curtailed by the Agreement, don’t you?”

“I am certainly aware,” Henry said stiffly. “My father followed the Agreement to the letter, Director.”

“I’m sure you know, then, that any interrogation of a minor is to be supervised,” Rebecca said. “I assume your dad knew that as well?”

“You need to be very careful choosing your words,” Henry warned. “If you are making an allegation…”

“There is no allegation, Lord North,” Michael said somberly. “This isn’t an Inquiry. Not yet.”

“You are acting on hearsay and speculation,” Sofia snapped. “This entire line of conversation is offensive and outrageous.”

“I agree. It is offensive, and it is an outrage,” Michael said. “You said we needed to be careful asking our questions, Lord North. I’d make the same suggestion to you, regarding your answers. If you tell me nothing happened, then I’m going to believe you. If I find out you lied to me at some later point in time,” Michael shrugged slightly, “I’m going to take it personally. I take my student’s welfare very seriously.”

“I demand to know the source of this slander,” Henry said coldly. “I have a right to know and challenge my accuser. Am I to take it that Katya Zharova is your source?”

“Not at all,” Rebecca said, shaking her head. “We haven’t even spoken to her about this.”

“I urge you to do just that,” Henry said, his anger only evident in the forcefulness of his delivery. “I’m certain that she will tell you that there was no assassination attempt, and that she has never even met me, much less my father. The whole thing is a fiction, from beginning to end.”

“That’s good to hear,” Rebecca said, picking the pen up from off the desk. “I want us to get along, Henry. I really do. I don’t suppose you’d agree to a little empathic probe, just to make certain of your honesty?”

“You overstep your bounds, Director,” Sofia said, her cheeks flushed. “We have our rights!”

“As my wife said,” Henry said. “I will not agree to such an outrageous accommodation. If you will not reveal your source, then you do not have enough to even make an accusation. Launch an Inquiry if you must, Director, and we will see whose career survives. I am secure in my innocence. Is that a clear enough response for you?”

Rebecca tapped then pen on the desktop, thinking it over.

“Yes,” she said finally. “I’m going to believe you, Henry.”

“You have no reason to do otherwise,” Sofia said, furious. “I will remember this affront, Director.”

“I suppose you would,” Rebecca said, nodding to Michael, who passed the documents to her. “I wouldn’t like hearing that sort of thing about my husband either. If I had a husband, I mean. I did say that you might want to leave, Sofia.”

Sofia Morales-North glared at Rebecca. Henry put two fingers on the inside of her wrist, and her posture relaxed slightly.

“I’m going to sign, because I really don’t have a better option to protect all those people at the Far Shores,” Rebecca said, eyeing the signature line reluctantly. “If you don’t live up to your part of the bargain, or if I find out you told me even the tiniest little lie today, you should know that I will kill you,” Rebecca said. “Director, Auditor, or just an everyday civilian, it’ll make no difference. You won’t be able to stop me, and your wife won’t be able to protect you. You got me?”

“Absolutely, Director,” Henry said, watching her sign with a discreet smile. “No one likes a liar, now do they?”

***

“Mistress,” Renton said, with a stiff and unusually formal bow. “I’ve returned.”

Anastasia regarded him indifferently. He was intensely aware of the crowd watching them, milling about in the ruins of the Thule compound or standing at attention behind Anastasia. Lord Gao loomed at her right hand, where he should have been, and Mai stood beside her, where Timor belonged.

“As we have, Mistress, courtesy of Emily Muir and the Far Shores apport station,” Simeon said, gesturing at Ksenia, Brandon, and Matheus, who stood just behind him. “I apologize for our tardiness.”

“Indeed,” Anastasia said, surveying them all coldly. “You are all quite late.”

Serafina Ricci walked over to Anastasia and embraced her, scandalizing Mai and her retainers.

“Oh, Ana, I just heard the news yesterday,” Sara said, squeezing her. “I’m so sorry!”

Anastasia said nothing, but for an instant, she leaned against Sara, her head resting in the hollow of the taller woman’s shoulder.

“Poor, poor Pavel,” Sara said tearfully. “How could they do such a thing?”

“An excellent question,” Anastasia said, regaining her composure, and restoring an acceptable distance between Sara and herself. “It is very good to see you again, Serafina. I feared for your safety.”

“I am alive thanks to your people. Simeon and Brandon and Ksenia, and Daniel. They risked everything to save me. That’s not all they did, either. They saved a bunch of refugees, not to mention Chandi Tuesday. I have to say that it was all rather heroic. They acquitted you well, cousin.”

“That is good to hear,” Anastasia said, looking them over more tolerantly. “You have my thanks for saving my friend. I will see you all rewarded appropriately.”

“No reward is required, Lady Martynova,” Simeon said, bowing. “I regret that we have been thus far unable to take direct action against the Thule Cartel, but despite our best efforts, the opportunity never presented itself.”

“Perhaps it did not happen because you waited for opportunity,” Mai suggested, “as opposed to seizing it.”

“As Mai says,” Anastasia said. “We have heard that opportunity was not entirely lacking for all of you. Where is Maxim Yurchenko?”

“Maxim was badly injured in a clash with the Anathema,” Simeon explained. “He regained consciousness this morning, but he is still fighting infection and unable to walk. He sends his apologies.”

“I see,” Anastasia said. “Is it true that he encountered Gabrielle Thule, and took her prisoner?”

“It is true,” Simeon said. “She was his prisoner for a brief time.”

“And?” Mai gave him a stern look. “What happened from there?”

“Maxim was crippled by Alistair in an engagement at the old Muir estate,” Simeon said. “Alistair was driven off by Leigh Feld and our combined efforts. He took Gabriela Thule with him when he fled, for unknown reasons. We attempted to stop him, but did not react in time or sufficient force, to our shame.”

They were all quiet while Anastasia considered it.

“I don’t think you need to be ashamed of your efforts, which were more than adequate,” Anastasia said finally. “I do think you need to ask yourself if you have done enough to impress me, Simeon.”

He caught his breath, then lowered his head.

“Renton Hall,” Mai said. “Where have you been?”

“I’ve been doing my job,” Renton said. “I’ve been among your enemies, milady. I have the information that you requested.”

“Is that true?” Mai asked. “We had heard that you were captured by the Thule Cartel.”

“How better to get access to our enemies?” Renton said boastfully. “I arranged direct access to Lóa Thule, and then I’ve spent my recovery among Emily Muir’s forces at the Far Shores.”

“Where is Lóa Thule’s head, then?” Mai demanded. “Why does she yet live?”

“I thought she was dead when I last saw her,” Renton said. “I cannot imagine how she survived.”

Anastasia sighed and put aside her veil.

“First Gaul, and then Lóa. It is the same story with all these Thule deviants. Are they so difficult to kill? You are an arrogant and troublesome servant, Renton,” Anastasia scolded. “How could you be so reckless?”

Renton quickly bowed his head.

“I’m sorry, Mistress,” he said. “I was only trying to do your will.”

“You put yourself through unnecessary suffering,” Anastasia said. “Worse, you put me through unnecessary worry. I believed that you were lost to me, Renton.”

“I did not mean to worry you,” Renton protested, his cheeks hot as a kitchen stove. “I was simply trying to…”

“Do you truly expect me to be pleased with you?” Anastasia demanded. “Was it by my desire that you were taken captive?”

“No, Mistress,” Renton said, chagrinned. “It wasn’t exactly my intention, either, but I made the best of it.”

“You disobeyed my most important and singular order to you,” Anastasia said, glaring at him. “Have I not instructed you to be ready to serve me, for all of your natural life?”

Renton’s throat tightened, and for a moment, he could not speak.

“Yes, Mistress,” he said quietly. “You have.”

“What services do you think you could offer me, then, as a dead man?”

“None, Mistress.”

“Then you will remember in the future that my instructions are not to be disregarded, even in the direst circumstance,” Anastasia said. “Do you understand?”

“Yes, of course,” Renton stammered. “I do.”

“Then return to your place, servant,” Anastasia snapped, beckoning. “Where you are meant to be.”

He hurried over, stepping between her and the towering vampire. Lord Gao gave him a mild look and a lukewarm smile, but he stepped aside. Mai was impossible to read, by face or telepathy, but that was always the case with the maid.

Anastasia inspected him closely, the corner of her lip turning down.

“It seems that you were treated poorly in captivity,” Anastasia said softly. “Is that true?”

Renton looked away, ashamed.

“It’s true,” he admitted.

“I have already resolved to destroy the Thule Cartel, of course,” Anastasia said. “Still, I will not forgive them for mistreating you. I withdraw the mercy that I planned to offer,” she proclaimed. “There will be no quiet deaths for any of them, to pay for the abuse of my diplomat. I promise to make them suffer in recompense for the suffering they have inflicted on my family and my treasured servant.”

Renton bowed as deeply as he could.

“Come along, now, my friends,” Anastasia ordered, putting her veil back in place. “We have much to do.”

***

Alistair spent hours in the bathroom, showering repeatedly between debilitating bouts of diarrhea and vomiting. He felt at first as if he were expelling the fantastic colors and haunting music that had assailed him in the dark, filling the toilet with strange hues and reams of sheet music.

As the toxins left his system, his suffering became more mundane.

He had just finished his third shower when it occurred to him that he had no idea how he had made it out of the dungeon.

He remembered lying on the pedestal, likely where he started, and giving himself wholly to the hallucinations.

His memory was faded as if it had been scrubbed with scalding water and bleach, his mind flailed with spectacle, pummeled with revelations and grandiose visions until his thoughts acquired the texture and consistency of a soft-boiled egg.

It was hard to say when that torment had ended, but it must have.

He woke in a bathroom like a drunk after a blackout, only able to recall the bare edges of the binge that had put him in such a sorry state. About how he had made it to the bathroom, or where that bathroom was, his masticated memory was entirely unhelpful.

He had a guess or two, though.

Alistair brushed his teeth while he dripped dry on the bathmat.

He drank water from the tap, and promptly vomited it back up.

He brushed his teeth again, and then took a more cautious drink, hovering near the toilet while he waited. He nodded a minute later and returned to the sink.

There were toiletries laid out, his preferred brands, and clothes that could have come from his own closet folded neatly on a chair beside the bathroom door.

He shaved and slicked back his hair before dressing.

The shirt was a touch too long at the wrist, but the trousers and jacket were perfectly fitted.

Alistair wiped condensation from the mirror so that he could examine himself.

“I won’t change so easily,” he said, mostly just to hear his own voice. “Don’t think that any of you can look down on me.”

Except for Gabby, he added silently, grinning at himself in the mirror.

He would prefer that she respect and admire him, of course, but it worked for him the other way, too. The way she flinched from his touch and the hint of reluctance in her smile didn’t bother him a bit.

That was cute.

He attached his cufflinks and paused to admire the Blancpain nautical watch that had been left for him before slipping it on. He put the tie in his jacket pocket, stepped into the shined brown leather shoes that were a bit pointy for his taste, and then left the bathroom, feeling as if he had spent a lifetime or so inside of it.

He emerged into an office. Gaul Thule waited for him beside a window at a small coffee table, an IV plugged into one arm and a fresh set of bandages on the back of his shaved head.

“Come and sit,” Gaul said. “Have some coffee.”

Alistair took his advice, helping himself to a scone as well from a small basket.

“Traditionally, we leave our candidates down there much longer,” Gaul said, turning his teacup absently as he spoke. “Based on the limited time available to us, I had you taken out well ahead of schedule. I think it should have worked, regardless. What do you think?”

“I don’t know,” Alistair said, swallowing. “What am I meant to feel?”

“No matter,” Gaul said. “We will find out soon enough.”

“Fine by me,” Alistair said, sipping his coffee. “Where is Gabby?”

“Gabriela is elsewhere, and she will remain as such until I have come to a decision,” Gaul said. “I considered your proposal while you were sequestered.”

“How long was I down there, anyway?”

“Little more than a night,” Gaul said. “Not even a full day.”

Alistair did his best not to let on, but that shook him.

He had thought at least the better part of a week.

“So? What did you come up with, boss?”

“Your performance in the trial was impressive enough,” Gaul said, “but I expected no less of my former Chief Auditor. You were always at your best under duress.”

Alistair nodded in simple acknowledgement. Few had ever disagreed with his mastery in the field, and even fewer of those were still alive to argue the point.

“I want you to work for the Thule Cartel, under an official contract. I want you to work for me again, Alistair, and then, after I die, I want you to work for my nephew Egill, who will take over the cartel.”

“You make it sound imminent,” Alistair said. “Is that head injury really so bad?”

“I should be dead already,” Gaul said indifferently. “Only my talent for psychic surgery and an aggressive treatment regime are holding that eventuality at bay. I cannot last more than a few days.”

“The Changeling and the Anathema aren’t the only ones on a deadline, then,” Alistair said, helping himself to another scone. “How interesting.”

“I will grant you permission to court Gabriela if you do this,” Gaul said. “You must agree to serve the Thule Cartel for the remainder of your career. I know that my cartel would be in good hands under your watch, but your ambition concerns me, Alistair. You betrayed me once before, because you felt your role was beneath your station. Can I truly count on you not to do the same again, in a humbler role?”

Alistair smiled unexpectedly.

“There was no way I would have gone for that, even a month ago,” Alistair said. “I wanted nothing less than the whole world. I wanted to control my own destiny, and everybody else’s, too.”

“Am I to believe that my niece really had such an impact on you, in just a few short hours?”

“I’m as surprised as you are,” Alistair said. “But here we are. See for yourself.”

Alistair opened his mind.

Gaul’s scan was clumsy, but it seemed to satisfy him.

“I will not dictate her fate unilaterally,” Gaul said. “I can offer my blessing, but the choice remains her own.”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way,” Alistair said. “You will speak to her, however?”

“I will state my case in your favor and declare you the choice of the family and the cartel,” Gaul said. “The rest is up to your own initiative.”

“That’s just how I like it, boss. Let’s make it happen.”

Gaul stared at him for a long time, but Alistair remained composed and relaxed.

“Very well,” Gaul said, pushing the documents across the table. “You will sign the contract then?”

“I don’t even need to read it,” Alastair said, taking the pen he offered. “Just so you know how serious I am.”

Alistair scribbled his name across each page in turn.

His last name felt unfamiliar, and logically so, since it had been more than a decade since he had written it.

Gaul inspected the pages gravely and then nodded, and that final gesture betrayed his exhaustion so completely that Alistair felt a little bad for the former Director, who seemed to have suddenly become a much older man.

There was fresh blood on his bandage, Alistair noted. Just a little spot of red, reminding Alistair vaguely of the Japanese flag, but still.

“Very well,” Gaul said. “Welcome to the Thule Cartel. Despite everything, it is still good to know that you will be here, to watch over the cartel and its interests, when I am gone.”

“I’ll look over your family as if they were my own,” Alistair said knowingly. “Better, actually.”

“Let us hope so,” Gaul said.

There was a knock at the door, and then Gabriela let herself in.

She wore a long dress and subdued colors, her hair curled, and her nails painted. She kept her eyes demurely on the tips of her shoes and her hands folded at her waist. Her compliant body language appeared to belong to someone else entirely.

“You called for me, Uncle?”

“I did. Gabriela, I believe you are familiar with Alistair, my longtime colleague and confidant?”

“Of course, Uncle.” Gabriela’s eyes flicked over him briefly, and he saw confusion there, and did not mind it. “He was instrumental in my return.”

“As I have been told. I’m afraid we have little time for social niceties, Gabriela, so I apologize for this being so abrupt. We must all do what our cartel requires of us, niece. You know this as well as any other Thule.”

“I know, sir,” Gabriela said quietly. “I know what you gave up, when you were called upon.”

“As we will all be called upon, in time,” Gaul said. “Your engagement to Grigori Aushev is terminated. You have no further obligation to him or his family, and will neither engage in, nor receive any further contact with him or his family. Is that clear?”

Gabriela stole a glance at Alistair before nodding.

“Yes, Uncle,” she said meekly. “May I ask why?”

“You certainly may,” Gaul said. “A better candidate has presented himself, offering a superior match for you, and for the cartel. My associate here,” Gaul said, nodding at Alistair, “has made an impassioned and persuasive plea for your hand, and I have granted my permission.”

“I see,” Gabriela said. “I am to be married to this man, then?”

“You are to allow him to court you, and to take his offer into consideration,” Gaul said. “You will look upon it favorably, if possible.”

“Yes, Uncle,” Gabriela said. “I will do so.”

“We will speak further on this in a moment, Gabriela,” Gaul said wearily. “For now, I’m afraid that duty calls you away, Alistair.”

“Of course it does,” Alistair said. “What do you need me to do, boss?”

“Chandi Tuesday is presently in Emily Muir’s hands, at the Far Shores,” Gaul said. “She is perhaps the last talented precognitive available to interested parties.”

“Yes.”

“I do not expect you to bring her here, because I have foreseen that happening of its own volition. What I want you to do is to occupy the Auditors for a suitable amount of time, while I am otherwise engaged.”

“All of the Auditors single-handed,” Alistair mused. “You do have high expectations, don’t you?”

“I expect more still. Egill has rather rashly gone after Miss Tuesday, though I assured him that another opportunity would present itself. I wanted you to make sure nothing happens to Egill. In order to preserve the illusion of your loyalties being with the Anathema for as long as possible, I expect you to act as if you are representing John Parson. You will oppose Egill credibly, while of course refraining from inflicting any serious injury.”

“Wow, boss. Fight the Auditors, fight your nephew – but don’t hurt him – convince Emily Muir that I’m working for our mutual former employer…that’s a tall order. I’ll do all of it, of course, but I will expect this to be considered in my favor.”

Gaul considered him for a time.

“Gabriela?” Gaul called out. “Come here, please.”

She approached obediently.

“Yes, Uncle?”

“Alistair is not appropriately attired as a member of the Thule Cartel,” Gaul said. “I have always despised his habit of foregoing his tie. I believe you will find the tie we provided him in his breast pocket. Please assist Alistair, would you?”

Gabriela hesitated only a moment, but Alistair noticed it, and that recognition thrilled him.

He grinned as she took the tie from his pocket, and then flipped up his collar, fitting the tie on him from behind. Each of her movements was deft and considerate, and her chest scraped against the back of his neck as she worked.

“You’re good at this,” Alistair remarked as she finished the half-Windsor knot. “I like that.”

She said nothing as she finished.

“You look the part, now,” Gaul said, as she stepped away. “Do I have my distraction, Alistair?”

“Whatever you need, boss,” Alistair said, winking at Gabriela. “Think nothing of it.”

Twenty-Two

Day Five

Lord North led the way through the brush, his gun resting on his shoulder, stomping through the high grass and glossy shrubs with an unlit cigar clamped between his teeth. Kevin Morales-North kept pace just behind his father, a gun bag in his arms, his ample frame making a broad path through the scrub. Nathan Drava brought up the rear, panting a bit at the pace, a scoped rifle slung over his shoulder.

“This way, boys,” Henry North said jovially. “The creek is just down there.”

The path down the slope was little more than a faint track in the dirt, frequently blocked by bushes or swollen tree branches, and the grade was steep. Henry bounded down the hill without regard or incident, his son Kevin following at an only somewhat more thoughtful pace, though with similar grace. Nathan had more trouble, sliding down a gravelly patch near the bottom of the hill and taking the skin off one of his palms.

Fortunately, Lord North and his son were far enough ahead that they did not seem to notice, though Nathan nearly had to run to catch back up with them, punctured by thorns and scratched by branches the whole way.

Henry kept that pace until they reached a noisy little brook, and then, mercifully, he called a halt.

“It’s just ahead,” Henry said, taking a swig from his canteen. “On the other side of those trees. We can rest here for a few minutes. We still have a little time.”

“Your wife’s prescience seems like an almost unfair advantage,” Nathan said, lowering himself gratefully onto a flat rock. “It feels like cheating.”

“A hunt is no different than a war, young Lord Drava,” Henry said, amused. “All is fair.”

“Of course, sir,” Nathan said hurriedly. “I meant no offense.”

“None was taken. You are right, of course. I owe much of my success to my wife’s support,” Henry said. “Each member of my family plays a crucial role in my operations.”

Kevin smiled, but said nothing, continuing the process of setting up a small camp stove on level ground not far from the creek.

“That’s part of why I invited you boys to join me shooting today,” Lord North said. “The North Cartel and its allies are in ascendance, gentlemen, and I’m not done yet. Not by half. By the end of the month, we will be in firm control of Central. You see, I had a conversation with the Director this morning.”

“I saw her come in,” Kevin said, lighting the burner. “What was that about?”

“Ms. Levy is in difficult situation, and requires my assistance to resolve it,” Henry said, taking Kevin’s lighter and using it on his cigar. “In return for a consideration or two, of course. I’m the new Chief Administrator of Central, effective at nine in the A.M. tomorrow.”

Henry grinned at their confusion and disbelief.

“Are you serious?” Kevin spilled the water he had collected in his tin cup back into the creek. “Dad, that’s crazy!”

“Congratulations on your new position, Lord North,” Nathan said. “I can hardly believe it.”

“As you mentioned yourself, being married to a precognitive tends to leave one forewarned and forearmed,” Henry said, puffing on his cigar and feeling in remarkably good humor. “My new responsibilities are vast, and my position precludes me from playing a direct role in cartel affairs. There’s room at the top, boys, and I plan to see if you can fill it.”

Kevin and Nathan looked at each other openly for the first time. It was obvious to Lord North that Kevin did not like the new Lord Drava or appreciate his presence here. It was clear that Kevin considered Nathan a threat, in the way that he squared his shoulders, and carefully interspersed himself between the stranger and his father.

Nathan was more difficult to read, given his unfamiliarity and general air of uneasiness.

Still, they did not immediately try to kill each other.

That was a good enough place to start.

“There are big things in store for all of us, gentlemen. I’m aware that you don’t know each other well at all, but you will have to trust my judgement, and therefore trust each other, because you will be working together, and more than that,” Henry explained, mystifying his audience. “Let’s start from the top, shall we? I’m expecting you to take charge of the cartel, Kevin. The alliance must hold a vote to confirm your appointment to the office, of course, but I have the votes to assure your ascension.”

“I will of course cast my vote for you,” Nathan said, bowing slightly to Kevin. “Congratulations, Lord North.”

“Thanks. I mean that,” Kevin said, his eyes huge. “I…I don’t know what to say, Dad. Thank you! I’m overwhelmed.”

“Not as much as you are about to be,” Henry said, his expression becoming somber. “It’s not all good news, son. You are to be the head of a Great Family. The office comes with all sorts of responsibilities, and first among them is matrimony. This isn’t a job for a single man.”

Kevin straightened up and balled his fists, summoning his courage, and Henry felt a bit of parental pride mixed in with the frustration.

“You know that I’m in love with Collette Higgins,” Kevin said, his cracking voice betraying a lack of maturity. “I request permission to…”

“Denied,” Henry said quickly. “I very much like Collette, son. You know that.”

“Then why can’t I just ask? I’m certain she’ll accept, and you know she’ll do a good job.”

“Collette is the third daughter of a minor house that has been allied to the North Cartel for decades,” Lord North explained, doing his best to be gentle. “Your marriage to her does nothing for the cartel, and if you want to be Lord North, then you need to put the cartel first. In everything. You know that. I warned you, when I first became aware of your relationship.”

“Yes, but this isn’t fair,” Kevin said, clearly distressed. “You can’t ask me to do this!”

“I can and will. You are free to refuse, of course,” Henry said. “You will also be refusing the office, though, if you choose Collette. I have another marriage in mind for you, son. One that will benefit the North Cartel, and yourself as well, though I’m certain you can’t see that right now. A match befitting the Lord of a Great House and my heir.”

There was no mollifying his son with praise or promises of power and glory, but Henry knew that it couldn’t hurt, either. Kevin was listening and controlling himself, though he nearly shook with agitation. Henry was proud of his son’s self-control, and accordingly dampened his frustration.

“I’m not agreeing to anything,” Kevin said. “But who do you have in mind?”

“Emily Muir,” Henry said, enjoying the stunned silence for a moment before continuing. “There will be a period of courtship first, of course, and steps will be taken to improve her public standing.”

“You must be kidding,” Kevin said, eyes bulging with disbelief. “The Muir Cartel has been dissolved in disgrace! What could she possibly do for us?”

“Miss Muir has organized a not-inconsiderable force of her own, and is in material control of the Far Shores,” Henry explained. “I plan to make that situation official, once I become Chief Administrator, as well as allowing her the resumption of her family’s title and estate.”

“This is insane,” Kevin said. “I won’t do it.”

“You will be in control of the Hegemony, while she has the Far Shores,” Henry explained patiently. “With myself as Chief Administrator, we will have Central almost entirely under our control, save only the Academy. Can you imagine it? The Black Sun will not even have a foothold.”

“What are you talking about? Emily Muir? She’s nothing, dad,” Kevin said angrily. “What does mom have to say about all of this?”

“Perhaps I should leave the two of you alone,” Nathan suggested. “I could take a short walk, while you work this out.”

“You will stay, Nathan, and help us through this,” Henry said mildly. “It is important to stand by your family.”

The boys exchanged another look of bewilderment, and Henry almost laughed.

Sofia and Madison had warned him not to, during a family telepathic conference the previous night, so he did not. It was a close thing, however.

“I’m not certain I understand, sir,” Nathan said, eyes darting from father to son. “What do you mean?”

“You are both to advance, Lord Drava, yourself and my son alike. There are two offices at stake, today, and two marriages to be planned.”

Kevin’s eyes widened.

Nathan just looked confused.

“Sofia has very firm ideas on her daughter’s development, so marriage will have to wait until Madison is sixteen,” Henry said, putting out his cigar on the rock beside him. “The engagement, however, will take place this afternoon. A formal courtship is to be expected between her debut and her sixteenth birthday, but the arrangement will have already been made. You will continue to hold the office of Lord Drava, of course, but you will join the North family and take our name alongside your own. You will second my son Kevin when he ascends and act as his lieutenant and representative in the Assembly.”

The boys considered each other, reassessing each other in light of the new information.

Lord North permitted himself a smile.

“Once we have settled the matter of the Thule Cartel, the Hegemony will naturally fall under our control,” Henry said. “That will require still more change. You will not be head of our alliance long, Kevin, as you will be voted into a new office just as soon as I can organize the vote. Which means that you will advance yet again, Lord Drava. When the Hegemony elects Kevin as its first unified leader, our alliance will require a new leader as well.”

Kevin was still lost, but Nathan was an ambitious young man, and had already made up his mind.

“I would be honored to request your daughter’s hand in marriage,” Nathan said, lowering his head reverently. “I assure you that I will be the very model of the ideal husband for Madison.”

“Dad, she’s just a kid!” Kevin was shouting, advancing on his father with a distraught expression. “You can’t do this! Mom would never agree, and Madison…”

“Your mother has already approved of both unions, as you must know. Sofia and I act in concert in this,” Henry said, curbing most, but not all, of his annoyance. “As for Madison, I spoke with your sister this morning. She is her mother’s daughter in every way, Kevin. She agreed immediately, without argument or complaint.”

Kevin hesitated, filled with unfocused anger.

“What about Emily Muir, then?” Kevin demanded. “What will she think of all of this?”

“Officially, Miss Muir has declined to state her opinion until a sincere attempt at courtship is made,” Henry said approvingly, remembering the polite and surprisingly challenging telepathic negotiation he had completed just that morning. “Unofficially, she is amenable to the arrangement, assuming you do a sufficient job of publicly wooing her, to enhance and endorse her new position.”

“This makes no sense,” Kevin objected. “The Far Shores is an Audits facility and a science base under the direct control of the Administration. If you are the Chief Administrator of Central, Dad, then you’ve already got it!”

“Not without a fight, I’m afraid,” Henry said. “Miss Muir is quite entrenched in her position, and she has cultivated a number of valuable allies and subordinates. An alliance with her is preferable to a conflict. The Black Sun is enemy enough, I think.”

“I…I don’t know,” Kevin said, gnashing his teeth. “I’ll have to talk to Collette.”

“No, son,” Henry said, being as gentle as was possible. “I believe you when you say that you love her. Madison has confirmed as much. I also know that Miss Higgins has feelings for you. Accordingly, you will not see each other again. Your mother has already spoken to Miss Higgins. She is to be transferred and promoted. She’ll be better off than she was before, I promise.”

“No! I at least need to talk to her!” Kevin wailed. “What will she think of me if I just disappear?”

“Miss Higgins has always impressed me as a professional, and your mother shares that opinion,” Henry said. “Miss Higgins has agreed to the arrangement and offered her congratulations on your impending engagement – though she has no idea who the bride will be, of course. That’s not information to share until we have established Miss Muir a bit more. Miss Higgins understands that she has a place in the world, and that it differs from your own. I think that there is a lesson for you to learn from her wisdom, Kevin.”

“This is mad,” Kevin said, sitting down heavily. “Utterly mad.”

“I have more to offer,” Henry said. “It’s highly irregular, I understand, but Miss Muir’s father was cruelly murdered, and she is alone in the world, as is the young Lord Drava, so I will be providing a pair of dowries, to ease you both on your way.”

“I am grateful, Lord North,” Nathan said smoothly. “You are too kind.”

“What dowry?” Kevin asked. “What are you talking about, Dad?”

“The Thule Cartel holdings are extensive,” Lord North explained. “Half of it will be used to make restitution with Anastasia Martynova, among other concessions. The remaining portion will be split evenly between your brides in perpetuity, on condition of continued marriage, and therefore added to your extensive portfolios.”

He listened to the creek while they let that sink in.

The Thule holdings were truly considerable, after all.

“What do you think?” Nathan extended his hand to Kevin. “Will you have me as your brother? I swear that you will not regret it.”

Kevin regarded Nathan soberly, and Henry’s heart swelled with pride.

After long consideration, Kevin took Nathan’s hand, and then pulled him into an embrace. He pounded his back, staring at Henry the whole time with furious eyes.

Lord North smiled at his son, soon to be Lord North in his stead.

“We did not come just to talk,” Henry said lightly. “Would the two of you care for a little light recreational shooting, to commemorate the occasion?”

He led the way, paralleling the slope, crossing the creek and then winding around scanty elms and blighted oaks, the ground littered with brown leaves kissed by white mold. Experienced hunters all, they made little noise as they advanced through the dying wood, afflicted with borer beetle and withered by stream diversion.

There was a final line of trees, green and living, and then they turned left and went up the ridge hard for a hundred meters, Nathan red and gasping for air by the time they reached the crest.

There was a blind waiting there, prepared quite recently, though the smell suggested some animal occupancy in the interval since it was built. Henry slid into the blind without a second thought, and the boys followed more reluctantly. There was enough space in there for twice their number, and four shooting slots to choose from.

They took position and readied their guns.

The wait was not long.

Their view was entirely unimpeded, and they arrived slightly before the cars pulled into the drive that the blind overlooked. Guards emerged from the first car and secured the area, but they paid no attention to the ridge above the house.

The remainder of the convoy was empty.

Peter Weathers and his wife, Victoria, supervised the unloading of the vehicles into their country home, while their son stood guard, along with a handful of armed security.

“They evacuated their estate this morning,” Lord North said. “They plan to hide their noncombatants here for the duration.”

Kevin just stared, while Nathan had already started to adjust his scope.

“Come on, then, son,” Henry said kindly. “We cannot abide rivals at this crucial time, can we? Not when the whole of the Hegemony is in our grasp, and Central itself just beyond it. We cannot presently reach their daughter, Hayley, as she is deployed with the Auditors, but we can at least prune the more troublesome branches of the Weathers family tree.”

Kevin started to prepare his rifle with numb fingers.

It took longer than it should have, because he kept dropping things.

Nathan waited patiently as Kevin zeroed his sights, lingering on the tight bun of grey hair on top of the head of Victoria Weathers.

“I’ve got the woman and the kid,” Nathan offered. “Can you handle Peter?”

Kevin nodded gratefully and settled behind his scope, not trusting himself to speak.

“Remember to take care of the staff as well,” Henry said, glancing at his watch. “Let’s be quick about it, eh, boys? On three.”

Kevin did not actually hear the countdown, just the discharge of Nathan’s rifle beside him, the weight of his father’s hand on his shoulder, and then the familiar kick of the stock nestled against his shoulder.

***

Leigh let herself in quietly, but she needn’t have bothered. Emily waited in a recliner in the living room, wrapped in a bathrobe, a cup of tea in her hands and her hair in curlers.

“You hussy, taking advantage of that poor innocent boy,” Emily said. “What did you do to him?”

“You said you didn’t like him that way,” Leigh protested. “I asked!”

“I’m not angry, I’m in awe,” Emily said. “And maybe a little bit jealous.”

Leigh lay down on the couch across from Emily and kicked her shoes off.

“You should be a lot jealous,” Leigh said, yawning. “You missed out.”

“No way!” Emily looked stunned. “You’re joking! How would he even know what to do?”

“I don’t know who taught him, but they did a pretty good job. I stayed over, didn’t I?”

“You did, didn’t you,” Emily said. “My poor, innocent Vivik.”

Leigh smirked and closed her eyes.

“I hope you let him get at least a little sleep,” Emily said reproachfully. “We all have a very big day ahead of us.”

“I kept him up all night,” Leigh said. “He was asleep when I left, though.”

“I suppose you just never really know everything about a person, do you?”

“I don’t know. You’re the empath. I just beat people up. Speaking of that, what are we doing today?”

“We are getting to the fun part,” Emily said, with a smile. “All the moves I’ve been making should finally start paying off.”

“You sound pretty sure of yourself.” Leigh cracked her eyes. “Does that mean you finally got Chandi to open up?”

“You aren’t the only one who had a busy night. It’s not like I needed a great deal from her. I’d already made up my mind what to do, it was just a question of location and timing.”

“Good for you and whatever your grand plan is,” Leigh said. “Do I have time for a nap?”

“Just a half-hour or so. We have a date for breakfast,” Emily said, checking her phone. “This will be an exciting day, Leigh. I can just feel it!”

***

Alex woke abruptly, feeling that his bed was too small and warm.

It took him a moment to realize that Eerie was squeezed between him and the wall on the double bed in his dorm room. He felt the sense of amazement that he had the previous few mornings, an overwhelming sense of having been the recipient of outrageous good fortune.

His bedding smelled of sandalwood and frankincense, and her strands of azure hair had invaded his pillow.

He curled around her, big spoon to her little, and felt immediate arousal.

“Poor Alex. You woke up in such a state,” Eerie said. “You should at least say good morning, first.”

“Good morning,” Alex said, putting his arm around her. “Sorry.”

“I was just teasing,” Eerie said, pressing against him. “I don’t mind.”

Alex pushed the bedsheets aside, kissing the nape of Eerie’s neck as he reached a hand around to fondle her chest through her borrowed T-shirt. Eerie squirmed and sighed, nearly pinned against the dorm wall. The metal bed frame squeaked with every movement.

He kissed her neck as he moved his hand gradually down her body, caressing her hips and thighs, before settling between her legs.

Eerie made a small noise, an involuntary moan that excited him beyond all reason.

Alex rolled her to her back and tore off his clothes. She slid her underwear off, but he pinned her shoulders to the mattress before she even had a chance to remove her shirt, spilling her hair across his mattress cover.

He entered her, and it was hot and sweet and altogether too brief.

She kissed him, afterwards, then slipped on sandals and his bathrobe, and went down the hall to shower. He lay back on the bed and slipped his earbuds in, picking a playlist at random and then letting his phone shuffle through random electronica. His mind drifted, flitting from topic to topic without ever settling, like an impatient butterfly among the clover.

He was not entirely sure if he fell asleep or not, but he did not notice that Eerie had returned until she slid back into bed, still warm from the shower.

“Hey,” he said. “Good morning for real.”

“Good morning.” She kissed him. “What do you want to do today?”

“I don’t know,” he said, feeling a kernel of panic invade his sense of warm contentment at the mention of time, recalling how limited theirs was. “I don’t think I have anything I have to do today. Vivik and Emily are working on a plan for the Thule Cartel thing, so that’s probably not happening today. What about you?”

“Nothing,” Eerie said, snuggling closer to him. “We could go to the beach, maybe?”

“Sure. Why not? It’s right there. Too bad we can’t swim.”

“I’ve never gone swimming in anything but a pool. Did you ever swim in the ocean?”

Alex thought about it.

“I’m not sure,” he admitted. “I don’t think so. I was mostly inside, I think.”

“Because you weren’t allowed,” Eerie said sadly. “I wanted you to be somewhere else, you know.”

“I know.”

“You had to accept your identity. It was a collaborative process, and…”

“You don’t have to tell me. I know it. I don’t blame you.”

“You should, though,” Eerie said. “I was so bad. I was scared and selfish and—”

“I already told you that I don’t care.”

“You should care, though, don’t you think? It seems like it would be normal to be mad. Right?”

“I’m trying to look forward, maybe. I don’t know. Can we talk about something else?”

“Yes,” Eerie said. “What would you like to talk about?”

Alex rolled to his back, and she draped her arm across his chest, her hair tickling his ear.

“I have a question,” he said. “Why haven’t I fallen asleep?”

“You just slept,” Eerie said, drawing back slightly. “All night!”

“I know that, but, well, I’ve been using my protocol a lot. More than ever. The World Tree alone was…”

He trailed off, remembering the aching cold that had run him through like skewers between his ribs, while all around him the Absolute Protocol murdered the Anathema World Tree.

“I slept for months, the last time I tried anything big,” he said. “And I used it way less. So, why…?”

“Maybe you got better?”

“A little. Not that much.”

“You’ve been practicing a lot, though.”

“Not that much!”

Eerie sighed and pulled away from him, so that they were lying side by side amid the bunched-up sheets, only their shoulders and hips touching.

“It’s like I told you. If you fall asleep somewhere away from me, you won’t wake back up for a long time,” Eerie said. “It’s my protocol. I’m keeping you awake.”

“Oh.” Alex could not hide his disappointment. “Then I’m still going to…?”

“Yes. Eventually. After I’m—”

“Don’t say ‘gone’. Okay? Just don’t say it. That’s not how this goes. We are going to find Gaul Thule and figure out a way to stop the Church of Sleep. We aren’t giving up. Right?”

“That’s what I meant to say,” Eerie said. “After that, though, you will—”

“Just keep me awake long enough to see the week out,” Alex said. “I can handle whatever comes after.”

“I don’t know,” Eerie said. “It might be a long time.”

“Oh.” His hand trembled slightly, so she held it. “How long?”

“I don’t know, but I’m scared,” Eerie said, fidgeting. “I did what I could to lessen the impact, but I can’t make it not happen. I’m sorry, I really am. I wish I could do more! I don’t want you to fall asleep again.”

“I don’t want to either,” Alex said, taking her hand. “I don’t mind as much, though, as long as I know you’ll be there when I wake up.”

Eerie squeezed his hand but said nothing. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see her pallid cheeks redden.

“Just as I suspected,” Eerie said quietly. “Despite everything, Alex is Alex.”

“What does that mean?”

“Only good things,” Eerie assured him. “Did you decide what you wanted to do?”

“I did, actually,” he said, reaching for her.

***

“You really aren’t going to eat anything?” Leigh paused with her mouth filled with crab cake. “It’s all really good.”

“I know. I’ve been lucky enough to eat Emily’s cooking several times now,” Chandi said. “I just don’t have much of an appetite today.”

“Yeah?” Leigh shrugged and finished her crab cake. “Guess that’s one of the hazards of knowing what’s coming.”

“It’s a comfort, usually,” Chandi said. “Today, though…”

“Cheer up, Chandi,” Emily said, sipping a mimosa while she perused her tablet. “It probably won’t be as bad as you are expecting.”

“Alistair is on his way to the fixed apport station,” Vivik said, picking at a plate of red potatoes and fruit and trying very hard not to let his glance linger on Leigh. “Do you think we should warn Anastasia?”

He looked over at Emily, then blushed when their eyes met, and immediately looked away again.

“We can’t risk it, not without tipping our hand,” Emily said, laughing behind the napkin she daubed across her lips. “If Anastasia was thinking clearly, she would have shut the station down immediately after she used it, since everyone is aware of it by now. It obviously would become a target. She’s off her game. Let’s hope a raid on her apport station is enough to jar her back to reality.”

“It’s extremely uncomfortable for me when you talk about the Mistress of the Black Sun like that,” Chandi said morosely. “You know that I’ll tell her every word, don’t you?”

“I know she’ll have her psychics dig every second out of your head for inspection,” Emily said, pouring herself more tea. “I’m not worried. I’ve done Anastasia far more good than harm. In my position, she’d do the same thing, I’m sure.”

Chandi sighed while Leigh helped herself to seconds.

“You have quite the appetite this morning,” Emily observed, with only the slightest upturn at the corners of her mouth. “Busy night, Leigh?”

Vivik nearly choked.

“You could say that,” Leigh said, spooning scrambled eggs onto a bagel. “Don’t worry. I’ll be ready.”

“I understand how Alistair plans to get to the Far Shores,” Chandi said, idly turning the flute that contained her mimosa. “I’m not so sure about Egill Johannsson, however. There’s no record of the Thule estate having a fixed apport station.”

“They have one,” Vivik said, jumping at the change in topic. “They built it in secret, two or three years ago.”

“Is that so? I can hardly believe it,” Chandi said. “They are tremendously expensive.”

“Worth it, since apport technicians are in short supply. You’d be surprised how many of the cartels have them,” Vivik said. “The Black Sun built eight, while the Hegemony has six. That’s in addition to the dozen or so that the Administration officially runs.”

“Why isn’t everyone returning to Central, then?” Chandi asked. “If the Black Sun has so many apport stations, they should be here already.”

“The thing with the World Tree knocked them all out. It takes a bunch of spare parts and technician hours to get one up and running again,” Vivik said. “There are four currently under repair, and that’s about all that there are parts to restore. It’ll be months before there’s enough parts to get them all up and running.”

“Vivik, dear, I know that you like to be helpful and attentive,” Emily said. “But could you refrain from telling Chandi all of our secrets until she has made a decision in regard to her future?”

“There’s no decision to make,” Chandi said, shaking her head. “I’ve pledged to the Black Sun. I have no intention to change my mind. I’ve told you what I’ve told you, Emily, in exchange for protection, but I’m not about to shift my loyalties.”

“In that case, please refrain from telling Chandi anything pertinent,” Emily said, sipping her tea. “If you don’t mind.”

“More like tell her anything you want,” Leigh said, draining her mimosa in a single go. “Since she’s gonna die in an interrogation room at an Anathema black site in the near future.”

Chandi tried to finish her mimosa, but her hands shook, and she made a mess of it.

“Or would you prefer a Thule dungeon?” Leigh asked. “I’ve visited one recently. It wasn’t very nice.”

“Are you certain there is no middle accommodation?” Chandi asked, giving Emily a hopeful look. “I could provide you with further information in return for continued protection.”

“I appreciate the offer, dear,” Emily said, tossing her hair. “I’ll have to decline. You see, you need protection from Egill Johannsson – who is quite scary – and Alistair, who is a bit of a complication from my past. Defying either means war, defying both means a fight on two fronts. That is no small thing, and I’m afraid that I don’t believe you know anything worth that much trouble.”

“Chandi, don’t be dumb,” Vivik said. “Think this over.”

“No, I wouldn’t do it for information,” Emily said, smiling benignly at Chandi. “For a friend and ally, however, there is nothing that I would not do.”

Vivik and Leigh both nodded, though Leigh was mainly concerned with finishing the remainder of the potatoes before anyone else had a chance.

“We can help,” Vivik said. “We want to help.”

“But you won’t help,” Chandi said sadly. “Not unless I betray my allegiance to the Black Sun.”

“You did just join them. Buyer’s remorse is a real thing, you know,” Vivik suggested. “I don’t think anyone would blame you for rethinking your position, given the circumstances.”

“Listen to Vivik,” Leigh said. “He’s a smart guy, and he’s right.”

Vivik blushed and almost knocked over his water glass.

“That’s easy for all of you to say,” Chandi said. “You are all traitors already.”

Leigh gave Chandi a look of disbelief, while Vivik winced. Emily just laughed and finished her tea.

“I can rip your head right off,” Leigh said conversationally, spearing the last potato with her fork. “Not figuratively – I can actually just tear right through your esophagus and your spinal column and separate your head from your body like that.” Leigh snapped. “I usually get it on the first try.”

Chandi put her shaking hands in her lap and looked away.

“You don’t scare me,” she asserted, rather dubiously. “I’m going to die shortly anyway, aren’t I? What’s the difference, then?”

“Self-righteousness is rarely a good look,” Emily said. “Self-pity, on the other hand, is always unattractive.”

It took an effort to remain in her chair. Chandi seriously contemplated fleeing the table like an upset child and running along the beach until she became exhausted.

If she had somewhere to run, she might even have done it.

“I am only doing my duty,” Chandi said. “That’s not something I expect you’d understand.”

“I adore defying expectations, but that’s neither here nor there,” Emily said. “Are you certain that your Mistress would prefer to see you taken by Thule or the Anathema today, Chandi?”

“I think she understands and values my loyalty,” Chandi said. “The rest is an inevitable consequence.”

“If you really think that Anastasia wants her people to blindly sacrifice themselves in some kind of pointless display of fealty, you’ve got her all wrong,” Emily chided. “Precognitives are valuable, as you well know. She would not want you to be taken, and she would not be at all pleased by an accounting of your heroic death.”

“No? Then what do you think she would have me do?” Chandi glared at Emily. “Since you know her so well.”

“I know her better than you do. That much is perfectly evident,” Emily said, punctuating the statement with a look of assured superiority. “She would tell you to accept my offer, Chandi, and then attempt to betray me and rejoin her at a more opportune time. In the meantime, you will be exposed to my inner circle,” Emily said, gesturing half-seriously at her tablemates, “and our private decision making, which will surely be of interest to Anastasia.”

Chandi balled her hands into fists, and then pushed them into her lap. She did her best to meet Emily’s eyes.

“I don’t understand,” she said. “Do you want me to betray you?”

“Not at all,” Emily said, surveying the remaining bagels thoughtfully. “I’m just being realistic.”

“If I do this, then, when the time comes, you’ll let me leave?” Chandi asked hesitantly. “Just like that?”

“What? No! Of course not,” Emily said, laughing her off. “I’ll do everything within my power to convince you to work for me. I intend to make it very difficult for you to leave, Chandi, and if it is within my ability to do so, I’ll make it impossible. I’m not offering to release you into Anastasia’s service, dear, I’m simply pointing out that your only chance to do so is to join me and hope that the future provides you with such an opportunity.”

“A rock and a hard place, huh?” Leigh smirked. “Tough luck.”

“A rock and a comfortable, supportive work environment,” Emily corrected, taking the top half of a poppy seed bagel from the basket. “With excellent compensation and a progressive attitude toward management.”

“That’s what I said,” Leigh replied. “More or less.”

“I suppose I must at least consider your offer,” Chandi said reluctantly. “What choice do I have?”

“I take issue with that,” Emily said, spreading cream cheese across her bagel. “There is always a choice, to my way of thinking. That none of the choices may be ideal, or even good, is an entirely different proposition. There are choices available to you, Chandi. If you side with me, and enjoy my protection today, then it is because you chose to do so of your own volition. No one here has any interest in forcing or compelling you.”

Chandi desperately wanted to argue, but her fearful and depleted brain refused to provide an argument.

“I understand,” Chandi said. “I will think it over.”

“Take your time,” Emily said, layering lox on top of the cream cheese. “You should have an hour or two.”

***

Anastasia paced the room with uncharacteristic impatience while Mai, Renton, and Lord Gao sat at a table near the door, trying not to watch the Mistress of the Black Sun wear furrows in the carpet. Renton was busy finishing Anastasia’s uneaten vegetable stir-fry, while Mai worked with thread and needle to repair one of Anastasia’s torn skirts. The well-dressed vampire sat on the other side of the table, smiling and offering no comments.

“Ana, come sit down,” Renton said, swallowing the last of the noodles. “You won’t make the station warm up any faster by walking in circles.”

“Renton Hall!” Mai’s tone was sharp. “You should not speak to Lady Martynova in such a fashion.”

“Let him be,” Anastasia said. “He is not wrong.”

“Perhaps he is not wrong, milady,” Mai said. “He is certainly rude.”

“We are going into battle with presumably the entire Thule Cartel as soon as the station is ready,” Renton said mildly. “The fight of her life is just around the corner. Is it so rude to suggest that she conserve her strength?”

“It is not your suggestion that I am criticizing,” Mai said. “It is your tone.”

“That is quite enough,” Anastasia said, taking a seat at the table. “Let us discuss something more practical.”

“Of course, Mistress,” Mai said. “What do you wish to discuss?”

“Communications, at least, are starting to return to normal, after the disruption resulting from the destruction of the World Tree. I have received notable messages from Director Levy, Lord North, and Emily Muir. All are interested in some degree of collaboration or alliance.”

“What can they offer us?” Renton asked. “There’s no point in having an ally that is weaker than we are.”

“I must agree,” Mai said. “Would such arrangements not be a liability?”

“I’m not entirely sure. Matters of control are very unsettled at present. Lord North appears to have sealed an agreement to force Ms. Levy to resign the title of Director. He has already been nominated for an executive role in the Administration. The vote is planned for later today, assuming they can assemble a quorum of Assembly members.”

“That is outrageous, Mistress!” Mai looked appalled. “How can they hold a vote in the absence of any Black Sun representation, and then expect us to accept the outcome?”

“They will simply do so, and then hope that we will be forced to accede to the new reality. Lord North is an opportunist, and an intelligent one. He knows that we are no position to invade Central, or offer meaningful opposition to his ascension, particularly not while we are in open conflict with the Thule Cartel.”

“I don’t know about that,” Renton said. “Why not send Katya to take care of him first?”

“Katya is busy elsewhere,” Anastasia snapped. “Regardless, we do not need a war with the North Cartel, particularly when we have unfinished business with Thule.”

“We have to do something to counter him,” Renton insisted. “If he takes over the Administration while we eliminate his primary rival within the Hegemony, we’ll be forced to deal with a unified Hegemony with the Auditors at its beck and call. Not to mention Emily at the Far Shores. She was born into the Hegemony, after all. If he takes power, he can just have the Assembly rescind her status as Anathema, and restore her family’s titles and estate.”

“You’ve spent time with Miss Muir recently,” Mai said. “Do you believe her sympathies still lie with the Hegemony?”

“I think Emily likes winners,” Renton said. “If the Hegemony looks to be holding the winning hand, she’ll probably go that way.”

“Which conversely means she could be swayed to our side, under the right circumstances,” Anastasia said. “There is much that is still unsettled.”

“Looks like war either way to me,” Renton said. “We will have to fight. It’s just a matter of when it happens. I think our chances of winning are pretty good, right now.”

“Apparently Lord North has considered the same possibility, which is why I found his offer worthy of mention,” Anastasia said. “As I said, Levy is to resign, but it is not North that will take her place, it is Mr. Lacroix. The mandate of the Director will be limited to the Academy, its students, and its grounds. A new office is to be created for Lord North to assume, Chief Administrator, which will encompass control of the Administration, as well as Central, excepting the Academy, the Far Shores, and the cartel estates.”

“He’s exempting the Far Shores?” Renton looked surprised. “He must have already cut a deal with Emily.”

“Or he is supremely confident of doing so. Sofia Morales-North is a gifted precognitive. One of the few remaining, I might add.” Anastasia pursed her lips. “Lord North anticipated our objections and is as wary of a fight now as you are confident, Renton. He offered a number of concessions and reassurances in return for peaceful acceptance of the new status quo.”

“What did he offer, Mistress?”

“A full restoration of all interests, lands, and offices that were lost in the Thule purge, as well as the Thule title and a substantial amount of their holdings. More importantly,” Anastasia added, “the Thule seat on the Board is included. Which will give the Black Sun a comfortable majority on the Board as well as the Assembly.”

“That’s…not bad,” Renton said, rubbing his chin. “Depends on which parts of the Thule empire we end up with, but…”

“The Auditors would be removed from the chain of command of both the Director and the Chief Administrator, and the role of Chief Auditor would be elevated to hold independent authority to oppose either role, should it be necessary. He also suggested that the office of Chief Administrator would have term limits,” Anastasia said. “He suggested ten-year terms, with a vote for reauthorization in the Assembly required, but I am confident that we could negotiate to six.”

“The Assembly hasn’t had any real control in decades,” Renton said. “That is a lot of change that he is proposing.”

“The change and the extent are already foregone conclusions,” Anastasia said. “The question is simply how we will react to that.”

“So much will depend on who he has in mind for Chief Auditor,” Renton said. “If he were to choose a close ally, for example…”

“He did not propose an ally for the role,” Anastasia said. “He proposed Rebecca Levy.”

“Oh. Well, that’s fucking complicated,” Renton said. “Isn’t it?”

“Mr. Hall! Would you please curb your usage of crude language in the presence of Lady Martynova?” Mai scolded. “At least try to observe the decorum!”

Anastasia surprised them all by smiling, just a little.

“Crudeness aside,” she said, “Renton is hardly mistaken.”

***

“Knock, knock!” Emily smiled brightly as she poked her head around the door, leading with a wooden tray. “I hope I’m not bothering you, but I wanted to follow up on our discussion this morning. I brought tea and sweets. Do you have a moment to chat?”

Chandi Tuesday looked up sadly, not a trace of surprise on her face.

“I’m a member of the Black Sun Cartel, Emily,” Chandi said. “I can’t help you.”

“You don’t have to,” Emily assured her, clearing space at the desk to set down the tray. “We can just have tea. Honestly, I feel bad for you. You were always decent to me at the Academy, despite the difference in our standing.”

“You can’t fool me,” Chandi said, shaking her head. “I already know what you want.”

Emily smiled and sat down on the bed on the opposite side of the room, the confined dimensions of the dorm putting their knees nearly close enough to touch.

“Do you really?” Emily smiled and reached for the kettle. “You’ve seen what I intend to do in your visions of the future, then?”

“It doesn’t work like that, and it has nothing to do with prescience in any case,” Chandi said, watching Emily pour Darjeeling tea into a pair of coffee mugs. “The only reason I’m of interest is my protocol. Any precognitive would tell you as much. Those Thule boys kidnapped me because they wanted to know the future, Lady Martynova recruited me for the same reason, and you are no different.”

“I like to think that I’m at least a little different,” Emily said, giggling. “Do you take sugar? Milk? Never mind, I already know.”

She dropped a brown lump of raw sugar in the tea, and then passed the mug over to Chandi.

“You can tell that sort of thing?” Chandi wrapped her fingers around the warm mug. “If I recall your evaluation when you were Activated, you were not always so capable.”

“Things change,” Emily said, adding a squeeze of lemon to her own tea. “You should try the cookies. This is my first attempt at an almond crisp, and I am quite pleased with the results.”

Chandi dutifully selected a cookie from the tray, brightening as she bit into it.

“These are good,” Chandi said, chewing. “I’m amazed you found the time to bake.”

“It helps me to think,” Emily said. “I’ve been doing a lot of thinking, just lately.”

“Yes, I would imagine so,” Chandi replied. “That vampire girl. The one from breakfast. What was her name?”

“Leigh. Leigh Feld.”

“She said she worked for you. Is that true?”

“Leigh helps me out a great deal,” Emily said, sipping her tea. “I’m very fortunate to count her as my friend.”

“She said she worked for you. That’s a different thing.”

“Does it need to be? I like to think that everyone here at the Far Shores is my friend, and that we all help each other out of mutual affection.”

“You are in charge, though,” Chandi insisted doggedly. “That’s right, isn’t it?”

“I suppose,” Emily said, smiling modestly. “Please, have another cookie. I know you want one, and you probably haven’t eaten enough for quite a while. Shall I make you a sandwich, instead? I have some roast beef leftovers that would make excellent cold cuts.”

“Not right now,” Chandi said, taking a second cookie. “Thank you, though.”

“I’m glad we have a chance to chat,” Emily said, putting her mug back on the tray. “Vivik tells me that you insisted that your interrogators be left alive. Compassionate again, as you were with me at the Academy. I appreciate that.”

“I always wished that I could have done something for you,” Chandi said, with a pained expression. “Your situation was so unfair.”

“Don’t look so sad!” Emily smiled. “We all have to start somewhere. I’m pleased with how things have turned out so far.”

“How did all of this happen, Emily?”

“What do you mean?”

“The Far Shores, for example.” Chandi gestured at the campus outside the window. “It used to be a science colony under the administration of Central. The Auditors were stationed here after the attack on the Academy, for heaven’s sake! How did you of all people end up in control of it? I thought you had joined the Anathema!”

“That was a relationship of convenience,” Emily said. “I prefer to consider it as an informal internship.”

“Then, you didn’t…” Chandi hesitated. “They…they didn’t…”

“I’m afraid they did. They drowned me in a hole. Everyone’s body is mostly water, of course, but mine is only that. I have to concentrate to look like myself, rather than just a human-shaped puddle.” Emily gestured, water dripping from her fingertips and spattering across the tea tray. “I’m not aligned with the Anathema, or anyone else. I’m my own independent entity.”

Chandi watched the water drip endlessly from Emily’s fingers, and then shook her head, wordlessly amazed, or horrified.

“As for how I came to look after the Far Shores,” Emily continued, nibbling at one of the cookies, “that was an accident. We needed a place, obviously, but it didn’t need to be here. There were other options. The Far Shores just worked out well, and the Sea of Ether is undeniably beautiful.”

“What will you do when the Auditors come back?” Chandi asked. “They won’t be gone forever, and they will be angry to find you here, don’t you think?”

“I’m sure they’ll be cross, but there won’t be much they can do,” Emily said, brushing her lips with a napkin. “I doubt they’ll want to fight, after what we’ve done to protect the refugees, not to mention the medical assistance we’ve provided them.”

“I’m not sure about that. I think that Ms. Gallow might want the Far Shores back.”

“She would need to be in a position to make me give it back, and I don’t like her chances,” Emily explained cheerfully. “Enough politics. Shall we talk about you?”

“Excuse me?” Chandi was taken aback. “What about me?”

“We could discuss some of the ways that we are similar,” Emily suggested. “I thought that we might share a certain unique perspective.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” Chandi said uncertainly. “What perspective?”

“We both turned our backs on what we were born into, didn’t we?” Emily asked brightly. “We left for greener pastures, you and I. In my case, those pastures turned out to be very similarly drab to those I had left, forcing me to set out on my own. How about you?”

“No. I have not…that is to say, I never officially joined the Hegemony, so I didn’t need to leave,” Chandi explained, the words coming with difficulty. “Most of my family declared for the Black Sun, if only recently. My loyalties are not in question.”

“That’s how you see it,” Emily countered. “Do you think that the Black Sun or the Hegemony see it the same way? I’m afraid there is no going back, dear. The Hegemony will always think of you as a traitor, and the Black Sun will never truly trust you, no matter what they say. More tea?”

“No, thank you,” Chandi said, fighting down a panic attack. “Emily, where did you say Lady Martynova was?”

“I believe she is investigating a Thule compound outside of Central, though I doubt she found much of interest there,” Emily said. “I’d imagine she has a few things more pressing, but I’m sure she means to come and collect you eventually.”

“I need to talk to her,” Chandi said, taking off her glasses so she could rub the bridge of her nose. “It is quite important.”

“I can’t risk it. The Thule cartel still controls the main road, and I don’t have any people to spare to escort you there. It is taking everything I have just to contain the refugee situation.”

“I don’t need any favors from you, and I don’t need you to provide an escort,” Chandi said. “I’m sure that I can ask Simeon or one of his friends to…”

“You mean those boys from the Black Sun that Leigh brought back when she retrieved you? One is still in ICU, waiting on his third knee surgery…”

“That’s Maxim, I think,” Chandi said. “I don’t really know him.”

“…and the rest are already back with their Mistress.”

“You returned them?”

“This morning.”

“I note that you did not offer me the same courtesy,” Chandi said, glaring. “How convenient.”

“Not for you,” Emily said. “But for my purposes, yes. Quite.”

Leigh Feld came bounding through the door, knocking it open and breaking one of the hinges in her eagerness.

“Emily, you need to get out here,” the vampire said, her ponytail bouncing as she trotted along, grinning despite the litany of cuts and bruises written across her skin. “Vivik says we’ve only got a minute.”

“A minute till what, Leigh dear?”

“Egill Johannsson is on his way the Far Shores, according to Vivik,” Leigh explained excitedly. “This is the fucking best day! I knew I was right to sign on with you.”

“Of course you were,” Emily said fondly. “I promised you excitement, and I like to over-deliver.”

“Egill Johannsson?” Chandi asked. “I see. That was faster than I expected.”

“How long did you think they were going to leave you alone?” Leigh gave Chandi an amused look. “Egill notified the telepath on duty that he was looking for someone, and if we gave them up, he’d leave the rest of the refugees alone.” Leigh smirked at Chandi. “Come to think of it, I guess that Thule kid is looking for you.”

“That is interesting,” Emily said. “Particularly because I have an appointment with Alistair for which I am at least fifteen minutes late, to discuss the very same thing.”

Chandi looked from the vampire to Emily, and then back, feeling helpless. The gap in her immediate prescience was more pronounced than usual, the uncertain future aching like a cavity.

“A pair of gentleman callers! You are quite popular.” Emily clasped her hands. “Do you plan to meet either of them, Chandi?”

Chandi slowly shook her head, casting desperately about for threads of a future, something to cling to, to pull herself from uncertainty.

“They are unwelcome visitors, then,” Emily said, her tone turning grave. “You certainly seem to be attracting all the wrong attention lately, don’t you, dear.”

“I still don’t understand why either of them cares about me.”

“They want the same thing from you as anyone else, I suspect. The future is a commodity, Chandi.”

“What does the Thule Cartel have to do with any of this? Gaul Thule is a precognitive himself!”

“You’ve said it yourself already,” Emily said, putting aside her mug with a sigh. “Egill wants to know the future, but on an uncomfortably permanent basis.”

Emily stood up and stretched her back.

“Given the choice between asking and knowing, I’m certain that he would prefer to have your protocol for his own. He is collecting a full set, according to Vivik, and precognitives are an endangered species of late. My understanding is that the boy wields a particularly vicious protocol that allows him to absorb the talents of those he kills,” Emily explained benignly. “I think that’s probably why he is here. Don’t you?”

Chandi trembled more than she nodded, but Emily seemed to take her meaning.

“It’s a pity,” Emily said, patting her on the shoulder. “You sounded so cool, telling me how you didn’t need my help.”

“I was wrong to say that,” Chandi said hurriedly. “Please forgive me.”

“You don’t have to apologize,” Emily said, laughing. “I’m just teasing. I’m obviously going to help you, Chandi. You wait here, where it’s safe. I won’t let either of them get near you.”

“Oh, thank you!” Chandi gushed. “I just don’t know what I would do…”

“About that,” Emily said, pausing at the door. “There’s just one thing you could do for me, if you were feeling grateful.”

Chandi’s face fell.

“Y-yes?”

“A favor for a favor,” Emily said, beaming. “That’s all. It’s only fair, don’t you think?”

“Yes,” Chandi said, bowing her head. “That is only fair.”

“Then we understand each other?”

“Yes,” Chandi said, nodding. “I understand.”

“Very well. I’ll go have a chat with Egill and Alistair,” Emily said, following Leigh out of the room. “I’m certain that they’ll listen to reason.”

“I see,” Leigh said, shoulders slumping with disappointment. “We aren’t going to fight, then?”

“Don’t look so glum!” Emily chided. “There will be plenty of fighting to come, Leigh dear, just not today. Well, not right now, in any case.”

***

Vivik caught up to Leigh at the door to the former Administrative building.

“Leigh, wait,” he said, putting his hand on her shoulder. “I think we should talk.”

“Oh?” Leigh hesitated impatiently. “About what?”

“About, you know,” Vivik said, his voice hushed. “About last night.”

“I don’t think we need to talk about that,” Leigh said, opening the door.

“Uh…”

“I already told you I’m not interested in that sort of thing,” Leigh said. “Keep your feelings to yourself, okay?”

“Yeah. You’re right. I’m sorry,” Vivik said, blushing. “I just thought maybe we should talk about our expectations, so that no one—”

“I’m not going to get my feelings hurt, Vivik, though it’s nice of you to worry about it,” Leigh said, smiling at him. “Just take care of yourself, and there’s nothing to worry about.”

“Yeah. I got it.”

“I’m not mad, but I don’t want to have this conversation again,” Leigh said. “Understand?”

Vivik nodded, crestfallen. Leigh hesitated for a moment, then she grinned.

“That said, I should be back before midnight,” she said, heading into the building. “Can I come over again tonight?”

“What? I mean, yes! Yes of course.” Vivik watched the door close behind her in a state of not entirely unpleasant confusion. “I’d really like that.”

***

Emily made him wait until she was certain that he was furious. Alistair not being a patient man, that took less than half an hour. By the time she opened the door, he was already pacing and flushed. A quick glance at his halo confirmed that the delay had done its job.

“Emily! You finally put in an appearance,” Alistair said, collapsing into a chair. “I could have just taken her, you know. I don’t need to ask your permission, I’m just attempting to be courteous.”

“Hello, Alistair. It’s been a while.” Emily sat behind the nicest desk in the fanciest office she had been able to find in the Far Shores. “I’m not sure I followed that little rant of yours. What are you talking about?”

“Don’t play around with me. I’m not the type to put up with it,” Alistair said. “I’m not one of those boys you run around in circles, and you know perfectly well why I’m here.”

“I really don’t have any idea. Please do tell.”

“I’m here for Chandi Tuesday. Where is she?”

“She is here,” Emily acknowledged. “I can ask if she’d like to talk to you, but that’s the most I can offer.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Alistair stood up to tower over her. “You know what you’ve promised John Parson, Emily. You remember him? The man you work for?”

“I remember him,” Emily said calmly. “I’m afraid I consider our debts entirely settled. I don’t work for John any longer. From what I’ve heard just lately, it sounds as if you might not either.”

“You have lost your mind, girl,” Alistair said. “Where is Marcus? I need him to talk some sense into you.”

“Marcus is doing his own thing. He’s never talked a moment of sense in his life, regardless.” Emily smiled at him. “I think we both know that Chandi doesn’t want to talk to you, or go anywhere with you at all, for that matter.”

“She’s the only precognitive still in play,” Alistair said. “I’ve got to have her.”

“I feel the same way, with the added advantage that she would prefer to stay with me,” Emily replied. “I do hope that you understand.”

“She publicly pledged herself to the Black Sun. I wonder what you’ll do when Anastasia comes calling. Will she get the same response?”

“That depends on what Chandi wants,” Emily said. “I’m hoping to convince her to stay, obviously, but if she wants to leave, I’m not going to stop her.”

“You haven’t had trouble with me, yet. I thought that meant you were smart,” Alistair said, his eyes glimmering with menace. “Produce the girl now, and I’ll forget this ever happened. Refuse me again, and I’m going to be upset.”

There was a knock at the door.

“Yes?” Emily called out. “What is it?”

“Sorry to interrupt,” Vivik said, opening the door. “But the other guy you mentioned…”

“Yes, of course,” Emily said. “Please send him in. They are both here about the same thing.”

Alistair glared, but said nothing as Egill walked into Emily’s borrowed office. His eyes narrowed at the sight of Alistair, and the young man did not advance more than a step or two into Emily’s office.

“You know why I’m here,” Egill said, with the voice of a bored teenager doing menial labor. “Can we just get it over with?”

“Alistair is also interested in Miss Tuesday,” Emily said. “Which creates one impasse. Chandi does not wish to leave with either of you.”

“I don’t care what she wants, or what you want, or anyone else,” Egill said, checking his watch impatiently. “I’m on a schedule, but my uncle demanded that I be courteous, so I’ll ask once more, politely. Where is Chandi Tuesday?”

“You’re Gaul’s nephew, right?” Alistair looked Egill over. “One of the freaks that Thule keeps hidden out at the old family estates. Were you brought up in Spain or in Iceland? He always thought he’d kept you so damn secret, but I knew all about it. Now I remember!” Alistair grinned and tapped his head. “You steal protocols, right?”

“I inherit the protocols,” Egill said modestly. “Upon the expiration of the original holder. You understand?”

“I always wondered who killed Vlad,” Alistair said. “That was you?”

“I’ve killed so many people, it’s hard to remember the specifics,” Egill said. “If you would like to see some of the protocols I have collected along the way, I’m happy to show you.”

“Yeah, why not?” Alistair cracked his neck. “Just remember not to hold it against me.”

Egill beckoned to Alistair.

“Come then,” he urged. “Come and die.”

Alistair stepped forward.

“I don’t want trouble in here, gentlemen,” Emily said wearily. “We are between cleaning services right now, you see, and I don’t plan to tidy up after the two of you.”

“My uncle did demand courtesy,” Egill said. “Very well.”

The apport was smooth as silk despite the disruption in the Ether.

They stood in a small succulent garden cultivated beside the utility building at the remote end of the Far Shores, where the shore became a narrow spit surrounded by the Sea of Ether, and the wind precluded all but the most determined grasses from the naked dunes.

On a bench near the gate of the garden, Chandi Tuesday sighed and put aside her book, carefully marking her place as she did so.

“This will do,” Alistair said approvingly. “Let’s see what you’ve…”

Egill disintegrated the utility building with a gesture, instantly reducing the structure to a floating constellation of component pieces – bricks encrusted with mortar barnacles, long sections of the metal shutters, pipe and twists of copper wire. Another gesture sent the entirety of it flying at Alistair.

He grinned and raised his hand.

Shining Cloud.

The debris was met with a swarm of microscale razors and shredded into a harmless shower of sand and pebbles. Alistair grinned and wiped debris from his shoulders.

“Telekinesis. And such control!” He nodded approvingly. “I’m impressed, kid. Shall we call it a draw?”

Egill raised his hand, and a bolt of lightning struck Alistair in the chest.

The Anathema fell to the ground, and was slow to rise, smoke rising from his burnt shirt and jacket. Alistair grinned as blood leaked from the corner of his mouth.

Egill frowned and slashed the air with his hand. Alistair disappeared beneath a barrage of sheet lightning, vivid electrical currents running through the garden fencing and the metal debris scattered across the beach.

Alistair stood a little down the beach, adjusting the sleeves of his jacket, whole and untroubled.

“Not bad, not bad,” he said, chuckling as he straightened his lapel. “Mind if I take a turn?”

Egill raised his hand.

Alistair disappeared.

Egill grimaced and squinted as if he were trying to see in the dark.

Alistair appeared behind Egill, the point of his knife aimed at the center of Egill’s back.

The blade clattered harmlessly off a violet barrier, a circle of unintelligible text flickering briefly in a neat circle about Egill.

“Oh, right,” Alistair said. “Poor Vlad.”

A narrow vein of solid granite erupted from the sand, drawn from its home far below the sands of the beach, impaling Alistair. He was skewered from crotch to head, the rock bursting from his skull accompanied by a brief fountain of gore.

Then the body disappeared, and Egill found himself staring at a granite promontory.

“Enough illusions,” Egill said. “Where are you?”

“Right here,” Alistair replied, leaning against the rock. “You’re good, kid, really. But against a telepath? Not so much.”

Alistair grinned, and the Ether reverberated with the sheer fury of his telepathic assault.

Egill shuddered, but his implanted shields held.

“Now that is impressive. Gaul’s work, I assume?” Alistair asked. “There’s not much point in our taking this further right now.”

“Not yet, I’m afraid,” Egill said. “I’ve not quite figured you out.”

“Don’t worry, kid. We’ll get there,” Alistair. “Now, Miss Tuesday, if you’ll just come with me…”

Alistair reached for Chandi’s arm, and his fingers passed right through her. Her image wavered and disappeared.

Alistair and Egill stood in an otherwise empty garden, among the broken and scattered succulents.

“Emily again! That bitch,” Alistair said admiringly. “She’s really good, isn’t she? Slipping away while we were involved. I didn’t even notice!”

“That’s not all she did,” Alice said, tugging a human chain of Auditors out of the shadow of the rubble of the utility building. “She also shared your location with interested parties.”

“Amazing,” Alistair said, shaking her head. “I’m obviously going to gut that bitch, but you have to give it to her, she’s figured the game out pretty well. Don’t you think?”

He turned to Egill and found him gone as well.

“God damn it! Why did you have to kill Drake back in Las Vegas, Alice? I could really use an apport technician right about now.” Alistair sighed and turned his attention to the Auditors. “I was going to have to take care of you lot eventually anyway. Might as well make the best of it, I suppose.”

“My thoughts exactly,” Alice said, grinning. “Wanna dance?”

Twenty-Three

Day Five

Alistair walked right into their fire, blasé as bullets ricocheted all around him. The pots and cacti of the garden disintegrated and the greenhouse exploded, showering the Auditors with glass.

The Auditors kept shooting, and Alistair continued walking toward them, unbothered.

“I’ve been feeling pretty tense lately,” Alistair said, pulling off his jacket and letting it drop to the sand. “I appreciate the opportunity to work out some of that stress.”

The Auditors reloaded while Alistair advanced. Alice grabbed Grigori by the shoulder, and then pulled them both into her shadow.

Alistair hesitated for a moment, glancing around him, and then shrugged and continued his advance.

Min-jun’s barrier manifested when Alistair drew close, stopping him in his tracks.

Alistair grinned and reached for the barrier, but it constricted before Alistair could make contact. Crouched behind Min-jun and tucked safely inside the lime-green radius of a tighter barrier, Hayley launched a psychic attack on Alistair, attempting to take possession of his body. Xia stood a few steps away in the ruined garden, watching from behind blue-tinted goggles.

“Give me a break,” Alistair said, thwarting Hayley’s assault with a thought. “What was that…?”

Alice shoved Grigori out of Alistair’s shadow. He struck Alistair with a wall of telekinetic force, pulverizing the garden pathway and opening a crater down into the clay and rock below.

Alistair stood at the side of the crater, brushing sand from his hair.

Xia set the remains of the garden ablaze. Swirling flames consumed the space where Alistair had stood, but the Anathema just yawned, and wiped the flame from his jacket as if it were dust.

Grigori aimed another telekinetic attack at Alistair, but it went radically wide, smashing into Min-jun’s barrier and staggering the technician.

Alice stepped from his shadow and shot Alistair in the back of the head.

She put two more rounds in his chest after his body hit the ground.

The body disappeared.

Alistair stood among the Auditors, putting a companionable arm around Grigori.

“You’re Grigori, right?” Alistair smirked while Grigori shoved him away. “You and I have business.”

“Stay calm,” Alice said. “Like we planned, okay?”

“I know all your plans,” Alistair said. “I broke the encryption on your communications days ago.”

“We know that,” Alice said brightly. “Hayley couldn’t stop you, but she knew you were there.”

Alistair hesitated at the curb.

“Wait a minute,” he said, frowning. “I missed something, didn’t I?”

“You missed all sorts of important things,” Rebecca said, taking his hand. “Don’t feel bad, though. If you feel bad, then I might, too.”

From a distance, it looked as if Rebecca were twisting Alistair’s fingers, the way she stood over him while he slid down to his knees, sweating and looking quite uncomfortable, though she held his hand quite gently in her own.

Rebecca smiled at Alistair, and he could not help but smile back, though it was through gritted teeth.

“How long have you been here?”

“We’ve been here since the beginning,” Rebecca said, laughing. “You just didn’t notice.”

“That’s pretty good, pulling a stunt like that on me,” Alistair said grudgingly. “When did you become such a telepath?”

“As much as I’d like to claim I’ve been training or something, I think that’s the result of working with Alex,” Rebecca said. “If you were really smart, you would have found a way to do those sessions yourself.”

“I don’t think that little shit would have nursed a secret crush on me no matter how much therapy we did together.”

“Me? Oh, please.” Rebecca laughed. “Mitsuru, on the other hand…”

“Don’t say her name,” Alistair said, struggling to glare, and managing only a look of mild reproach. “I won’t forgive you for what you did to Mitzi.”

“You manipulated her into that position, knowing exactly what I would have to do,” Rebecca said. “And I won’t forgive you for betraying Central. For betraying me. I trusted you, you know? I really didn’t see that coming.”

“Now you’ve returned the favor,” Alistair said. “So what?”

“A lot has changed since we talked last. I got demoted, for one thing,” Rebecca said cheerfully. “I think I have the record for shortest run as Director, but at least I’ve already got a new job.”

“Glad to hear it. What are you doing these days?”

“Meet the new boss, same as the old boss. I’m an Auditor again, Alistair. Chief Auditor, actually, with an expanded mandate and roster, and a long-ass list of people who apparently need to be reminded who runs this mess.”

“If you are the Chief Auditor, then who is the Director?”

“Don’t worry about it right now,” Rebecca said. “Let’s talk about why you’ve been such a jerk.”

Alistair paled slightly.

“You know, I do feel bad about it,” he admitted. “Even though I had to get you out of the way, I do regret deceiving you.”

“Why’d you do it, then? Why betray Central?”

“Better benefits,” Alistair said, grinning.

“I can’t believe you can still lie to me, even now,” Rebecca said, laughing. “You are a piece of work.”

“I’m not with the Anathema anymore, if that helps your opinion of me.”

“How like you. Why did you turn on them?”

“Found a better job,” Alistair said, grinning. “Think I met a girl.”

“You’re full of shit,” Rebecca said, giving him a searching look. “Are you serious? You aren’t serious. Are you?”

“I’m serious,” Alistair insisted. “Why don’t we talk it out?”

“Becca?” Alice called out. “Why aren’t you killing him?”

“I’m working on it,” Rebecca replied.

“Is it safe to come over?” Alice asked. “I’ll help!”

“It’s not safe at all,” Rebecca said. “Please be quiet, Alice. I need to work.”

“You might need her help,” Alistair suggested. “Or do you have more surprises planned?”

“I might,” Rebecca said. “You never know.”

“That does seem to be the case,” Alistair said. “What happens from here?”

“I think apologizing for betraying your good friend for no reason would be a good place to start.”

“I actually am sorry about that,” Alistair said. “I would have preferred to bring you along, but I knew you’d never go for it. That’s all you get, though, after what you did to Mitzi.”

“I hated having to do it,” Rebecca said softly. “If it means anything to you.”

“Not in the slightest,” Alistair said. “What now?”

“That all depends on you.”

“I know that, but I like hearing you say it,” Alistair said. “You can’t hold me forever, and while your empathy keeps you safe, that won’t mean shit for all your little Auditors. You’ll get tired eventually.”

“I’ve got another surprise for you,” Rebecca said. “Like you said.”

“Oh yeah?” Alistair looked around. “What else am I missing?”

“We have an audience,” Rebecca said, gesturing dramatically. “And he really hates you.”

Alex stood in the middle of wreckage, his arms folded across his chest, furiously glaring.

“I see the gang’s all here,” Alistair said. “I can see why you let yourself be talked into this, Alex. Fighting me has gone so well for you in the past.”

“Not this time,” Alex said. “Things have changed.”

“Alex is giving me a bit of an assist right now,” Rebecca said. “You can feel it, now, can’t you? We’ve been subverting your mind, piece by piece, for the last few minutes.”

“You’re lying,” Alistair said. “My shielding is…”

He frowned, and then went silent.

Rebecca beamed at him.

“Now you see it,” she said, putting her hand on his cheek, and gently turning his face up, so she could look him in the eyes. “I’m already so far inside of you.”

***

“I’m surprised you sent him,” Vivik said, enlarging the window that depicted the Auditors. “Aren’t you worried that Alex and Katya will rejoin the Auditors?”

“If they want to do that, that’s fine,” Emily said, pinching her lower lip as she stared at the window. “It changes things, certainly, but I don’t mind having a couple of close friends working as Auditors.”

They watched Rebecca browbeat Alistair, who slumped despondently at her feet.

“What are you going to do about the Auditors, once this is over?” Vivik asked. “They are going to want the Far Shores back.”

“Yes,” Emily agreed. “They certainly are.”

“And? What do you plan to do about it?”

“Don’t ask me to predict the future,” Emily teased. “Ask Chandi. That’s her department.”

“I don’t want to fight the Auditors,” Vivik said bashfully. “I don’t want to give up the Far Shores or go back to Central, but I won’t do anything to hurt them.”

“I’d never ask you to do that,” Emily said. “You don’t need to worry, in any case. I have no intentions of fighting them again. I think I’ve already proved my point in that regard.”

“Ms. Levy is in charge now. That must change the odds, right?”

“I don’t think about it like that. I prefer to accentuate the positive.”

“Which is what, exactly?”

“Ms. Levy is much more reasonable than Ms. Gallow, for one thing,” Emily said. “Also, Miss Levy is no longer the Director. Lord North is in a new and precarious situation, and in need of allies. I think we will find the new Administration more amenable to ceding the Far Shores to us.”

“Okay,” Vivik said, rubbing his chin. “I see it now.”

“I’m glad,” Emily said. “I knew you would.”

Through the window, they watched as Alistair lowered his head until it rested on the dirt. Rebecca bent over him, whispering in his ear.

“I overheard that super-secret boy conversation the other night,” Emily said, taking his arm. “I didn’t mean to, but my name kept coming up, and that drew my awareness, even as I slept.”

“I see,” Vivik said regretfully. “I, uh, should probably explain…”

“You don’t need to explain anything when you already have so eloquently,” Emily said, smiling at him and batting her moist eyelashes. “I know how you feel about me, and I’ve always admired and appreciated your restraint and caring. You are my best friend, Vivik. My only true friend in the entire world.”

“I, uh,” Vivik blushed and shuffled his feet, the constellation of windows in front of them orbiting madly. “I feel the same way.”

“I know that isn’t what you want from me, and I’m sorry for that. You are an extremely important person to me, but it’s not…”

“I know,” Vivik said. “I don’t need to be an empath to know that.”

“Is it enough for you?”

“Our friendship and my other feelings are separate things,” Vivik said. “Just because I might wish that things could be different, that doesn’t mean that I’m not happy with how things are.”

“I am very lucky to have met you. You are brave and strong, Vivik, and I’m so happy that you decided to stand beside me. I promise to be the best friend that you’ve ever had,” Emily said, squeezing his hand, and smiling at him for an appropriate interval. Then she cleared her throat politely. “Could you bring the Auditors back up, please? We seem to be looking at us, dear.”

Vivik blushed and the windows rotated, bringing the Auditors back into view.

Alistair was prostrate before Rebecca, who sat beside him, her elbows resting on her knees, still talking.

“Looks like it’s working,” Vivik said. “Alex’s support was enough, I guess.”

“I’m not so sure,” Emily said. “Look.”

***

Alistair rose to his knees with gritted teeth.

“It won’t work,” he said, panting slightly between words. “I don’t die that easily.”

“Are you sure?” Rebecca asked. “You really should kill yourself.”

“No thanks,” Alistair said. “I’m not the suicidal type.”

“Give it a try. You might be surprised how much it would suit you.”

“I do feel a bit guilty about what happened between us, but the rest of it, well, try as you might,” Alistair said, grinning weakly, “I barely feel bad at all.”

Alex edged nearer, not at all succeeding in hiding his nervousness.

“I don’t think that’s true.” Rebecca dug through her pockets. “I think you feel awful. So, so awful.”

“Would you cut that out?” Alistair shook his head. “I’m starting to lose my patience.”

“You don’t need to be patient. You need to die.” Rebecca beckoned Alex closer. “That’s the only way to stop the pain, the guilt, and the fear. Oh my God, the fear. Am I right? You know that I am. You’re worthless and awful, and it hurts so much.”

Alistair put his hands on the ground, but he did not fall over.

“It isn’t working,” Alistair said, the strain evident in his voice. “Even with the kid’s help.”

“Isn’t it?” Rebecca pulled Alex over by his arm, and then took the gun that was holstered at his waist. “I think you’re full of shit. I think you’re barely holding it together. I think you are too tired to go on. I think you’re tired of suffering. No one loves you, you know? No one will cry when they find out you’re dead.”

Rebecca tugged the pistol’s action back, then let it snap forward.

“Everyone will be so glad when they find out that you are gone,” Rebecca said, offering the gun to Alistair. “When was the last time you felt even a shred of happiness? Do you even remember what it felt like? Because you never will again, I promise you. I’m inside your head, breaking things. There will be no fixing this damage, Alistair. I’ve ruined your dopamine production and sabotaged your serotonin receptors. You’ll never feel anything but hurt. That will be all that you can feel.”

Alistair groaned and shuddered, slumping beside Rebecca.

“This is textbook stuff,” Alistair said. “I know exactly how to counter it.”

“Then why aren’t you doing that?” Rebecca said, pushing the gun into his hands. “You know why. I’m right, and you know I’m right. I’m right about all of it, aren’t I?”

Alistair nodded slowly, staring at the gun.

“I know one thing for certain,” he said slowly. “You should not have given me a gun.”

He aimed at Alex and pulled the trigger.

The gun clicked, the hammer falling on an empty chamber.

“It’s not loaded, dumbass,” Alex said, sneering. “We’re just fucking with you.”

“Shut the hell up,” Alistair said. “I can’t hurt Rebecca, but I’ve got no problem fucking you up.”

“You sure?” Alex taunted. “I don’t know, man. I don’t think you’re up for it.”

Alistair tried to wipe the sweat from his face, and discovered that his hand was entirely gone, and there was only a smooth stump that terminated just above where his wrist had been.

He closed his eyes and then opened them again, shattering the telepathic illusion.

Alistair was crouched in Alice’s shadow, and that shadow was full of squirming appendages and crude tentacles that were busily taking him to pieces.

“You had this coming,” Alice said, with her lunatic grin. “You didn’t even notice, did you?”

He was missing one leg to the knee and both of his hands, and there was a cavity in his left side that exposed his ribcage. There was no blood, only smooth, pink skin stretched across the space where a part of him had been.

The shadow writhed and grasped, and Alistair tried to recoil. He only managed to roll over, his brain sending commands to the hands and leg that he no longer had.

“Not a problem,” Alistair said, his skin burning away in layers like crepe paper. “We’ll just start over.”

“Nah, man. This is the end,” Alex said, grinning as the air chilled around them. “No more extra lives for you.”

Alistair stopped burning as frost formed across his skin.

“You think any of this worries me?” Alistair laughed. “Go ahead, call everybody! You’re just saving me the time of tracking you all down. You think a little ice is going to bother me, Alex? You know, I think I’m going to cut you up again,” Alistair said. “No knife, though. What to do?”

“It’s not the cold you need to worry about,” Alex said, his breath steaming. “Have you still not noticed?”

“You are such an annoying kid,” Alistair said, raising his hand. Shining Cloud.

Nothing happened.

Alex smirked, while Alice grinned like a lunatic behind him, her hand on his shoulder.

“He really is annoying, isn’t he?” Alice said. “There’s no Ether. Can’t you feel it? Alex purged it all. You know what that means, right? No protocols.” Alice’s smile grew until it seemed to stretch the dimensions of her face. “No resurrections.”

Alice raised her revolver and put three holes in Alistair’s torso.

Everything from mid-thigh was gone already.

Rebecca put her hand on Alistair’s forehead and brushed away the hair glued to his forehead with sweat, caressing him with unexpected tenderness.

“You are dying,” Rebecca said gently. “You should just let it happen. Aren’t you tired, Alistair? Isn’t it time for you to rest?”

He gasped and clung to her arm as the shadow devoured him, his eyes filled with desperation. He opened his mouth, as if to speak, and blood spilled over his lips, staining them red.

“Hush now. Just be quiet,” Rebecca commanded, tugging the dying man’s head into her lap, where he bled all over her thighs. “Don’t fight it. You don’t need to fight anymore.”

Alex watched from a distance, beside Alice and Hayley.

“What is she doing?” Alex whispered. “There’s no Ether, so her empathy…”

“Empaths don’t really work like that,” Hayley said in a hushed voice. “She’s a psychologist, you know.”

“That’s unethical,” Alex said uncomfortably. “Super unethical.”

“Shut up,” Alice said. “Let her work.”

Rebecca stroked Alistair’s head, heedless of the sticky mess he was making of her.

“We were never friends. Because of Mitsuru, mostly,” Rebecca said. “That doesn’t mean I disliked you, though. I like everyone, at least a little, but I liked you more than that. It hurt me when you betrayed us, but I couldn’t really bring myself to hate you for very long. I don’t understand your reasons, but I know you must have had them. Whatever they were, that must have been quite a burden to carry. I bet it only got heavier after you betrayed us all.”

Alistair groaned as tremors passed through his body. Rebecca cradled his head and caressed his cheeks.

“I still don’t hate you, even after everything,” Rebecca said. “Does that make the guilt worse? The people you hurt the most still care for you, despite what you’ve done. Don’t you think you are terrible person? Truly, unredeemably terrible?”

Alistair shook and squirmed, and Rebecca held him down with gentle pressure on his forehead.

“Everything is done now. It is time for you to be over,” Rebecca said. “Everyone you’ve loved is dead. Don’t you want to be dead, too?”

“I can’t listen to this shit,” Alex muttered. “This is fucked.”

“Walk away, Alex,” Alice commanded. “Not another word.”

Alex stomped off, but Rebecca never even seemed to notice, occupied by her ministrations to the dying man. She sat in a pool of gore, the blood still pulsing weakly from the gaping wound in his neck.

The shadow had him up to the waist.

“Mitzi loved you,” Rebecca said. “She loved you, and that’s why she died. You didn’t love her back. You should have, but you didn’t. Did you really care so little? Or did you protect yourself from the one thing that might have made you happy? Do you really want to live with that rattling around in your head?”

Alistair whimpered and shuddered.

The shadow disappeared, taking Alistair’s lower half with it.

Rebecca held him and stroked his forehead until he finally went still.

The Auditors stood in a silent half-circle, excepting Alex, who was already far down the beach. Rebecca looked at the dead man in her lap with a slightly traumatized expression.

“I was in his head,” Rebecca said dully. “Right at the end there. Alex left, and the Ether returned, and…I was there for it.”

“Yeah,” Alice said. “Thought so. You okay?”

Rebecca seemed to think about it for a long time.

“Do you think you have another jump in you?” Rebecca glanced at Alice. “I hate to ask, but…”

“I’m up for it,” Alice assured her. “Back to the Far Shores?”

“Yeah.” Rebecca looked at her blood-smeared hands, and then at the corpse in her lap. “I need to change my clothes, and I want to take, oh, maybe a million showers.”

“Sure, no problem,” Alice said, picking up Alistair’s knife, which lay not far from where he did. “Just give me a quick moment to make sure he’s not coming back and then we’re off.”

Twenty-Four

Day Five

Alex limped from the apport platform to the locker room in an exhausted daze, feeling stretched out and used up, like mortar scraped too thin. The men’s locker room had been flooded and was still unusable, so a privacy screen had been erected across the women’s instead, and Alex was assigned a locker in the far corner of the room.

He hurried past Leigh Feld, who looked to have just returned from the field herself, without a word, and then stripped off his stinking field gear, leaving it in a pile on the floor. He stumbled to the shower, where he lingered beneath the hot water, soaping up multiple times.

He was haunted by the image of Rebecca with Alistair’s bloody head in her lap, whispering into the ear of a dying man.

It made little sense to him, why this deeply merited end would trouble him so, in comparison to all the unjust death he had seen. The scene stayed with him, though, and his thoughts went around in a pointless circle while he absently shampooed his hair.

Was it because it was horrible? Or because Rebecca had done it?

Alex didn’t think so. Those were contributing factors, sure, but that wasn’t why he kept returning to the scene.

Something had felt wrong.

He had felt something, in the Ether, and perhaps even seen something with his cold eye, when he glanced back down the beach over his shoulder.

He tried not to think about it too hard, focusing instead on washing his hair an unnecessary second time.

“You’ve been in the shower for a while,” Leigh called through the divider. “You okay in there?”

Alex nodded.

“I’m fine,” he yelled, when he realized she could not see him. “Got lost in thought.”

“I’m leaving,” Leigh said. “Gonna go find Emily.”

Alex stood in the water until it ran cold and he was a shivering mess of goosebumps. He got out and dressed, tossing his field gear into a laundry basket he seriously doubted anyone was monitoring on his way out into the blustery evening.

The Sea of Ether was active, and thunderheads were arrayed across the horizon. The air was charged with static, and dark clouds loomed not far from the Far Shores. The storm seemed to linger at an uncertain distance off the coast, an unfulfilled promise that he had already learned to disregard in just a few days.

Vivik waited on a bench in the center of a dead lawn between the buildings, looking as if he had not slept in days.

“Hey,” Alex said. “You been waiting long?”

“I was starting to wonder if you came back,” Vivik said, grinning. “You okay?”

“Yeah.” Alex tried to smooth his hair into order, having forgotten to comb it. “It wasn’t that bad.”

“It looked pretty bad.”

“You watched?”

“I monitored the Operation,” Vivik said. “With Emily. That’s my job, remember?”

“I should, by now,” Alex said. “Where is Eerie?”

“With Katya,” Vivik said. “They went for a walk on the beach. They should be back soon.”

“Did you already have dinner?”

“Yeah, but I could use something to drink. Do you wanna go to the commissary, or do you want to go over to Emily’s?”

Alex hesitated, debating between the small crowd of nervous refugees and the mediocre food of the commissary, and the peril of seeing Emily.

His stomach made the decision.

“Is it okay if we go to Emily’s? Will she mind?”

“She won’t mind,” Vivik said, standing up. “I’m not sure if she’s there, but even if she isn’t there will be leftovers.”

“That works,” Alex said, hoping that Emily was anywhere else.

The wind from off the coast was stiff as they walked, and Alex wished that he had taken the time to dry his hair.

Vivik hummed tunelessly as they walked, and there was an unusual bounce to his step.

“What’s gotten into you?” Alex demanded. “Did something happen?”

“What? No! Nothing happened.” Vivik blushed, and Alex knew immediately that something had. “My mind was just wandering, that’s all.”

“Don’t give me that. You’re practically skipping. What the hell happened?”

“Nothing. Really!” Vivik looked away. “Nothing important.”

“Something happened,” Alex said, shoving Vivik. “Tell me! You know all the dumb shit that I’ve done, right? It’s only fair.”

“It’s really nothing.”

“Come on, man. Just tell me.”

“Okay. It’s not that big of a deal or anything, though,” Vivik said, giving up so cheerfully that Alex suspected he’d wanted to all along. “You know Leigh Feld, right? The vampire?”

“Uh, yeah, I know her,” Alex said, smirking. “I just walked by her in the locker room.”

“Oh yeah, of course. Well, uh…”

Vivik grinned and shrugged.

Alex stopped in his tracks, staring at Vivik.

“Wait a minute. You don’t mean to tell me…?”

“Yeah,” Vivik said, grinning like an idiot. “Yeah.”

“Holy shit,” Alex said. “You’re dating a vampire?”

“No, no!” Vivik waved him off. “I don’t think we are dating or anything.”

“You are messing with me!” Alex grabbed Vivik by the shoulders. “You seriously did it? You nailed a fucking vampire?”

“Well, yes, I suppose,” Vivik admitted, a little flustered. “I don’t see how that…”

“I can’t believe it! She’s so…she’s…” Alex gestured uncertainly. “She barely even spoke three words to me!”

“Yeah. Leigh, uh, she doesn’t seem to talk very much,” Vivik said. “We’ve hardly…”

“She never talks to anyone except Emily, and she’s so…dude. Have you seen her in the field?”

“Sure,” Vivik said. “Of course.”

“She’s like a machine,” Alex said, with a dazed look. “She just fights and bleeds and it’s…it’s so crazy. Like Margot on steroids or something. She fucking loves it out there. She just runs right into the bad guys, you know? She just buzzsaws through them, and gets all fucked up, and she doesn’t even care.”

“It’s pretty scary,” Vivik agreed. “I mean, she is a vampire.”

“Right. She’s got fangs, and she can’t die, and everything. That’s nuts, man.”

“I thought maybe you’d get it a little more,” Vivik said. “You are dating a Changeling, you know.”

“I get it, really,” Alex said. “I’m just in shock. You and Leigh, man. That’s quite a couple.”

“We aren’t, though,” Vivik insisted, beet-red. “She’s not interested in that sort of thing.”

“No way. No fucking way!” Alex shook Vivik by his shoulders. “You did a one-night stand with Leigh?”

“No, it’s…I don’t know, actually,” Vivik said. “She said she wants to come over again tonight.”

Alex smacked Vivik on the shoulder hard enough for it to hurt.

“You lucky bastard!” Alex laughed. “You aren’t dating a vampire; you guys are just hooking up. That’s amazing!”

“Yeah.” Vivik grinned. “It kinda is.”

“It really is! I mean, Leigh is super-hot.”

“Yeah.”

“That ass alone, man.”

“Dude. I know.”

“No offense, but she’s way out of your league.”

“Hey! I could say the same about Eerie.”

“I agree with you. You got lucky, and so did I.”

“Yeah. Maybe you’re right,” Vivik said. “Sorry. I just…I had to tell someone.”

“It’s cool,” Alex said. “I’m happy for you.”

The wind continued to batter them as they walked toward the townhouses, growing more forceful as they left the partial protection of the larger buildings behind them. Their eyes were naturally drawn to the massive thunderheads that rumbled angrily in the distance.

“I have to ask,” Alex said suddenly, jarring Vivik from his reverie. “Is she…is she cold?”

“Cold?” Vivik blinked. “I’m not sure what…”

“Margot said she was turning into a statue. Her skin was like marble,” Alex said. “My eye, and the tips of my fingers…they’re cold, all the time.”

“Oh.” Vivik blushed. “She’s not cold like that. She’s not a vampire the way that Margot was. They made her in a lab, you know? She was grown in a tank. The Anathema slaughtered maybe half the vampires in the world to feed to her. She’s special, I guess.”

“Yeah, that makes sense,” Alex said, touching his numb eye. “Lucky her.”

***

It took hours for enough of his neural network to rebuild for some semblance of consciousness to return. Alistair considered it fortunate, then, that the process of restoration was automatic. He was deeply in tune with his physical self, masterminding the reconstruction of his body from surrounding organics and useful raw materials.

He did notice that nothing seemed to be left of his body, somehow, and that he was operating with little more than a brain stem, but that very state precluded surprise. There was too little of Alistair to register something as complex as an emotional response to stimuli.

Particularly in the absence of nearly all stimuli.

The surrounding medium was aqueous, which was helpful for the reconstruction, and doped with preexisting nanites, which was even more so.

He did not ask questions or wonder. He had the same approximate self-awareness as a potted plant.

Further time passed, and various milestones were reached.

When complete containment of the brain was achieved, he noticed that the medium in which he existed was buoyant.

When his first optic nerve signaled his mostly restored brain, Alistair knew that he was in almost total darkness.

The nerves came in slowly, and that was the worst part.

Each relay and synapse was exposed and unprotected, feathering out in anticipation of tissue not yet present, and his entire sensorium was a maelstrom of sensation, weight and pressure and pain. It was like being baked in a kiln, an obliterating heat that scoured his mind clean of all thought.

He could only endure and wait, while his body remembered itself.

The rest took less time. Musculoskeletal reconstruction was an engineering problem, while the nervous system was a work of art.

Tendons expanded and tightened. Muscle corded around fresh new bone. Blood was replenished by deep red marrow, a thirty-minute-old heart pumping blood through vessels that had existed for half that time.

Alistair had returned to himself by the time the nanites started work on a new pink epidermis, starting base layers of skin cells and then forcing cellular death while a new layer grew beneath, accelerating the process of filling in and expansion.

He knew where he was before he opened his eyes.

He knew exactly what he would see.

Despite having been there only once, the location was intimately familiar. He had found a vault with his name on it here, wandering in the wet darkness beneath the Thule estate, among unseen corridors and alcoves that haunted him no less for having been obscured.

His fingers had traced his family name inscribed on an ancient arch, the letters cut into the stone so many years before that the cuts had softened and crusted over with mildew. He had entered the vault, and had floated on his back, in these same doped and poisoned waters. Staring into the darkness, for seconds or hours he could not say, he had opened his mouth, and let the waters in.

He had died here, for a short time. And now…

Something close to the opposite.

The Anathema way of return was severe and torturous, a process of diminishing returns that left him weakened each time he repeated it.

This was something else. Not at all gentle or clean, but birth is neither.

Perhaps that was too much. But if this was not a rebirth, then it was at the very least a radical renewal.

He floated for a while, his awareness slowing syncing with his new body, allowing the toxins to fully penetrate his skin and work their way into his blood stream, feeling the acceleration of his new heart and the feverish, prickling sensation of the psychedelics taking hold.

The waters beneath the Thule estate were strange, and Alistair tasted deeply of that strangeness.

It felt nothing like the first time.

Having no name for the emotion he felt, and no prior experience with it, Alistair told himself that it felt like coming home. He wondered if Gabby would be willing to let him take her name, or whether she would prefer to adopt his old, bad one.

Either possibility intrigued him.

He had noticed the young woman watching him not long after his ears had been completed, identifying her by her respiratory patterns.

She was quiet, but she needed to breathe, and the chamber they shared was small.

He simply chose not to acknowledge her until it suited him.

“You’re awake, aren’t you?”

She had activated a battery-powered lamp, he realized, which floated in a buoyant housing beside her. She stepped closer to look into his eyes, and he could see her better.

The water came up to her elbows. She wore a dress despite that, and the skirt floated around her like the petals of a flower. She was smiling, but the smile in her eyes differed radically from the one on her face. The latter was wholesome. The former was something else entirely.

“You are awake! I knew it. You’re a jerk, Mr. Alistair! How long have you been ignoring me?”

The hallucinogens in the water filled in every darkened corner with glowing and vibrant patterns. It was hard for him to pay attention to anything else.

Gabby needled her way through his innate shields with clumsy brute force telepathy, making a total mess as she did so. He could have stopped her, of course, but he felt no desire to do so.

“My uncle told me you would be here. He can’t see the future anymore, but he can still monitor the Network for unusual activity. Like, for example, the death of an Administrative User.”

He had been connected during most of the fight, except during Alex’s intervention.

Realizing how fortunate he had been to reconnect to the Network right before he had lost consciousness, Alistair shivered.

“You want to know how it works, right? It’s not that complicated. The waters of this vault are separate from those of the labyrinth. The nanites in the water here are your own, leached during your previous visit. When your body was destroyed in Central, those orphaned nanites started reconstruction here.”

“I remember everything, right up until the moment I died,” Alistair said. “This isn’t a backup. How is this possible?”

“It is an irrational process,” Gabriela said. “That is the nature of our gift. It has mutated your Anathema nature into something else.”

“Can every Thule Operator do this? Can you?”

“Not at all!” Gabriela laughed. “I had no talent for resurrection in the first place. The labyrinth cannot give you anything, it just changes what you already had.”

“I heard that Brennan Thule had an impossible protocol that let him talk to machines,” Alistair said. “And you’re an empath who doesn’t feel other people’s emotions.”

“That’s not all,” Gabriela bragged, “Benji can negate other people’s protocols.”

“Is this place the reason why all Thule protocols are so…?”

“Irrational?” Gabriela laughed. “Of course. It’s the big family secret. Now you know.”

“And Gaul let Emily Muir in on this?” Alistair finally stood in the waist-deep water, marveling at his new limbs. “That’s too bad.”

He took a step forward, his sensitive new feet a little uncertain on the mossy stone floor, and Gabriela flinched away, suddenly conscious of his nudity.

“My uncle told me what you said.”

“About what?”

“Are you really going to make me say it?”

“I’m absolutely going to make you say it.”

“Uncle Gaul says that you have succumbed to my charms,” Gabriela said, maintaining the insincere smile that seemed to be her default expression. “He said that you’ve become enamored with me and obsessed with the idea of our marriage.”

“All of that is true,” Alistair said, stepping a little closer in the near-dark. “What do you think?”

“I think you should have asked me first.”

“What would you have said?”

“I would have told you that you are an old man and the idea of marrying you grosses me out,” Gabriela said pleasantly. “I don’t want you to touch me and I certainly never want to sleep with you.”

Alistair laughed, but it was a little forced.

“Is there a ‘but’ coming, or did you get your dress all wet just to come and tell me how little you think of me?”

“You were capable, when you rescued me. You never seemed afraid,” Gabriela said, the smiling briefly disappearing. “That’s the good stuff.”

“Not exactly the impression I had hoped to make, but it’s something.”

“It was,” she said. “I liked Grigori, you know.”

“You’ll like me,” Alistair assured her. “I’m more fun.”

“Grigori is an Auditor.”

“I was Chief Auditor!”

“His family is rich and important.”

“I’m way more important,” Alistair boasted. “And if you want rich, no problem. I’ll make it happen.”

“You’re so old, though! How old are you?”

“I’m legal, don’t worry,” Alistair said. “You won’t get in trouble.”

“You’re old enough to be my father. Older, even.”

“That just means I can buy you booze.”

“Grigori’s status befits my own, as the child of a Great Family. You are an outcast of an expunged family.”

“I will make sure you get everything you ever wanted,” Alistair said. “If anyone ever makes you even slightly unhappy, I will kill them myself.”

“I don’t know,” Gabriela said. “I’ve read about your family.”

“You aren’t supposed to do that,” Alistair said. “No one is. Even their memory is Anathema.”

“Are you like them?”

“You tell me,” Alistair said. “I think we both got a pretty good look at each other in the field, when I rescued you. I liked what I saw. What about you?”

Her smile went away, but he was no surer whether the uncertain expression she wore instead was any more legitimate.

“You had your moments,” she admitted. “I still wish you had asked me directly.”

“Why? Gaul is the head of Thule Cartel. I had to get his approval eventually.”

“I have ambitions of my own, Mr. Alistair. You seem like the kind of guy who is all about himself, all the time.”

“Up until quite recently, that was true,” Alistair said. “I’ve only thought about you since we met. It feels weird to admit it, but I swear it’s the truth.”

“You see?” Gabby sounded delighted. “You have your moments.”

“You like that? I’ll tell you something else, then,” Alistair said, taking a final step, so only her billowing skirts were between them. “I want the rest of your life, Gabby, and I’m willing to do anything to get it. You only need to name it and it’s yours. Anything you want.”

He reached for her.

Gabriela splashed him and moved away, but she laughed.

“Okay, Mr. Alistair,” she said demurely. “I understand.”

“Good. What does a guy need to do to get your attention, Ms. Estanza-Thule?”

“I’m a romantic and will marry only for love, so you don’t need to worry about impressing me,” Gabriela said. “I was promised several prime holdings from the Aushev portfolio, though.”

“Why stop there?” Alistair grinned. “Why shouldn’t you get the whole estate?”

“Oh, and on an unrelated note, I’ve always admired the Loring Manor in Central.”

“Just the one house, then?”

“To begin with. I do have my own ambitions. I am serious about that.”

“That’s one of the things I like about you, Gabby,” he said. “I like an independent woman. There’s just one thing, before I go…”

He stepped forward. She retreated again, but only a half-step this time.

“Yes?”

“I have a request for you.”

“Do you?”

“Uh huh.”

“Well, then. Keeping in mind that I am a modest and well-mannered young lady who has saved herself for marriage, what is it that you want from me?”

“Would you mind asking your uncle if I can borrow his secret apport station? I suddenly have a bunch of places that I need to be.”

“I don’t think you’ll need to go anywhere just yet, Mr. Alistair. Uncle Gaul shared a bit of what he saw before his little accident, and I happen to know that you’ll have an interesting opportunity, if you wait around here for a little while.”

“Good things come to those who wait, eh?” Alistair grinned. “What will we do in the meantime?”

“The obvious thing,” Gabriela said, fluttering her eyelashes coquettishly. “We will discuss the remaining obstacles to my happiness, and to your own. Since we find ourselves with some time and privacy, would it be too much of an imposition if I wanted to talk a little bit about my family?”

“Why not? I assume they’ll all be at the wedding, regardless.”

“That’s just it,” Gabriela said, taking his hand. “I’d really rather that they weren’t. They’ve ignored and overlooked me all these years. Why should they get any share in my happiness?”

“Why indeed? I will see to it that they get exactly what they deserve,” Alistair said, folding her hand inside of his own. “All of them?”

“Well, not Uncle Gaul. He’s a softie, and he’s not got long, in any case. The rest of them I can do without.”

“If you can, then so can I,” Alistair said. “Just watch me.”

***

Hayley opened the door, rolled her eyes, and then walked away, leaving it ajar.

Alex shrugged and then followed her in.

The room had been office space for the labs upstairs before the Far Shores was occupied. Now, with refugees crammed into most of the residential buildings, it had been repurposed into an informal headquarters for the Auditors. Weapons and field gear had been laid across the desks and tables, and harnesses and bandoliers were strung from the office chairs. The rest of the furniture had been pushed to one side of the room to make space for a bunch of cots.

Min-jun looked up from the comic he was reading in his cot, while Grigori stood nearby, glaring at Alex, a carton of milk in one hand.

Xia glanced up from the game of solitaire he was playing on an empty desk. He gave Alex a brief nod before returning to his cards.

“Look who showed up,” Hayley remarked, collapsing back into her cot. “I thought you worked for Emily now?”

“I don’t…uh…you work for the Hegemony on the side,” Alex stammered. “What’s the big deal?”

“Emily Muir is a traitor and Anathema,” Grigori said, setting the carton forcefully down on a table, and causing the milk to splash out. “There is a world of difference.”

“Ms. Gallow was willing to work with Emily,” Alex said, shrugging. “It is what it is.”

“That is a temporary arrangement,” Hayley said. “The Auditors have more important things to deal with right now than Emily Muir. We are going to settle affairs with her at an opportune time. Ms. Gallow has said so repeatedly.”

“I don’t know,” Alex said. “Vivik said it didn’t go great the last time you all took on Emily.”

“It will be different next time,” Grigori said. “I promise.”

“No need to be so dramatic,” Alex said. “I just came to check on you guys.”

“How sweet of you,” Hayley said. “I’m touched that you still care, even after you abandoned us.”

“I was dragged into the Outer Dark by an angry Yaojing,” Alex said. “What was I supposed to do?”

“It’s what you’ve done since that is the problem,” Grigori said.

“When Katya approached me, I thought I was helping rescue an abandoned Auditor,” Hayley said. “I didn’t know anything about Emily Muir, or taking over the Far Shores, or…”

“Neither did I,” Alex said. “That all came as a surprise.”

“But you are still working for Miss Muir, even after she did all that,” Min-jun said. “Right?”

Alex gave them a helpless look.

“It’s really complicated,” Alex finally said. “I don’t even know where to begin.”

“Explain what you’ll do next time Emily asks for a favor,” Min-jun suggested. “That’s a good place to start.”

Alex looked at his shoes as if he were waiting for them to provide him with a line.

“I know what you want me to say,” Alex said, finally. “But I’m obviously going to help my friends when they need help.”

“That settles it, doesn’t it?” Hayley rolled her eyes. “Because Emily is clearly your friend, despite being Anathema, despite hijacking the Far Shores – our home, I might add. And we, just as obviously, are not your friends.”

Alex gave Hayley a pleading look, but she ignored it to return to her book.

Mitsuru cleared her throat from where she leaned casually against the wall beside the door.

“Hi.” Mitsuru nodded. “Been a while.”

No one said anything for a minute.

“I hadn’t, uh, I haven’t actually had a chance to tell them about what happened to you, yet,” Alex said, coughing. “I told you to give me a little while, didn’t I?”

“You were just digging yourself a deeper hole,” Mitsuru said. “I did you a favor.”

“I thought I sensed your Etheric Signature,” Hayley said, approaching Mitsuru warily. “Are you an Anathema too?”

“Go ahead and check for yourself, if you want,” Mitsuru said, shrugging as she dropped her shields. “I’m the same woman you remember, give or take an unexpected mental vacation in Mexico.”

Hayley narrowed her eyes and stepped close, and then she was inside of Mitsuru.

She was as gentle as her rudimentary telepathy allowed, but Mitsuru still stumbled, and Alex had to grab her elbow to steady her. A trickle of blood dribbled from her left nostril, but to the collective relief of all, it was red.

“Holy shit. She’s telling the truth,” Hayley said, returning to herself. “It’s Ms. Aoki! She’s not Anathema, or…”

“I told you that,” Mitsuru said, wiping the blood from beneath her nose. “You kids are so jaded.”

“How is this possible, Ms. Aoki?” Min-jun spoke calmly enough, but he looked as if he might faint. “How have you come back?”

“My implant made regular backups, or so I’m told. I don’t remember anything past our deployment in the Ukraine. I know I must have died, because everyone keeps telling me as much, and I’ve heard all about that Anathema – Song something? Song Li? – I’ve heard that she used my body.”

Mitsuru frowned and balled her fists.

“I’ve heard about all that,” she continued. “But I feel like I was just here the other day, with all of you.”

More silence.

If there was telepathic communication going on, then Alex and Mitsuru were left out of it.

“Where does that leave you on all this, then?” Hayley’s tone was challenging. “Who do you work for now, Ms. Aoki?”

“I’m an Auditor,” Mitsuru said, nodding. “Nothing’s changed there. I’m not quitting.”

“That’s good!” Min-jun looked around hopefully. “That is good, right?”

“What about Emily Muir?” Grigori gave her a probing look. “You said she was responsible for your return. What are your feelings regarding her, Ms. Aoki?”

Mitsuru thought about it.

“Gratitude,” Mitsuru said. “Respect, but also wariness.”

“So, if she comes asking for favors,” Hayley said, “what will you do?”

“I would listen,” Mitsuru said. “Is that a problem?”

“I think Ms. Gallow might have a problem with it,” Hayley replied. “She’s still upset over everything.”

“I’ll work it out with Alice,” Mitsuru said. “That’s not a big worry. Rebecca is in charge now, right? I’m sure she’ll be fine with it.”

“I’m not so sure,” Grigori said. “Much has changed.”

“You don’t know Rebecca the way that I do,” Mitsuru said. “We’ve been friends and colleagues for years. Emily Muir is not going to be an obstacle to that.”

“You’re fine with all of this, then?” Hayley demanded. “She takes the Far Shores from us, recruits our teammates, steals all our things, and we are supposed to just let it go?”

“She gave me my room back,” Mitsuru said. “I just had to ask.”

“Mine, too,” Alex added. “I know she’s holding all of your rooms for you. You’re sleeping in an office because you chose to.”

“She secured our apport station, our training facilities, and our labs,” Hayley said, putting a finger in Alex’s face. “They took weapons and equipment and…everything! They took everything! I can’t even find my workout clothes! I have to get permission just to get to the kennel to see my dogs!”

“I didn’t say it was perfect,” Alex said, holding up his hands and taking a step back. “I just think that, if you ask, Emily will help…”

“Of course she’ll help!” Hayley shouted. “She’ll help and then I’ll be in her debt! How can you be so stupid, Alex? How many times are you going to let that girl screw you over?”

“I don’t think that’s fair,” Alex said. “I think Emily has good intentions! Mostly. I know that I do, anyway. I don’t think I’ve done anything to betray the Auditors, or any of you.”

More glances were exchanged. Alex was certain there was a private telepathic channel to which he was not privy, where a furious debate was currently underway.

“Katya is the personal assassin for the most feared woman in the world,” Mitsuru said, “and Alex is an M-Class protocol user and catalyst. Do you really think the Auditors will be more effective and safer without their help?”

More agitated silence.

“That’s not what I think,” Mitsuru said. “If my opinion makes any difference.”

“Who cares what any of you think? I’m obviously going to make the decision,” Rebecca said, rubbing her eyes as she walked in the room, Alice following closely behind her. “This isn’t a democratic thing. The Auditors are selected by the Director and the Board, not by group vote.”

“Don’t we get any say at all?” Hayley asked. “Alex and Katya betrayed us, and Ms. Aoki…well, you know what she did.”

An uncomfortable moment followed, when no one wanted to look directly at Mitsuru, for reasons varying from apprehension to guilt.

Had any of them done so, they would have discovered that the object of their nervousness was oblivious to and unaffected by their malaise, having no memory of her death or the events immediately preceding it.

“I know exactly who did what,” Rebecca said. “I’ve got a rough idea as to why. Maybe I’ll talk more with a few of you in private, but the group discussion is tabled. You are all Auditors until I say otherwise, okay?”

Rebecca glared at them.

“Maybe you’ve all forgotten, but you don’t just quit the Auditors. If you want to leave, you gotta resign,” Rebecca explained. “Your resignation has to be approved by me. And I’m not approving any resignations, okay? You’re all staying right here until I decide that I’ve got no further use for you.”

“That’s hardly fair,” Alex said, grinning. “We might not be allowed to quit, but we could always die.”

“Not unless you’re given prior permission,” Rebecca said, grabbing Alex around his shoulders and grinding her knuckles against his head. “No quitting, no dying, and no vacations until I say otherwise. Got it?”

Twenty-Five

Day Six

The beach stretched into infinite uniformity behind them. Ahead, there was only a narrow spit of sand, lashed on both sides by the agitated Sea of Ether, along with a few outbuildings and a small fenced dry garden.

This was their second walk in as many days.

If it was not yet a habit, it was at least a preference.

The sky to their left, above the Sea of Ether, was dark and ominous, but neither had dressed for rain. The young woman with electric-blue hair had not even dressed appropriately for the wind, wearing nothing more than a borrowed, overly large T-shirt and a pair of shorts. The other wore a knitted hat that matched her recently gifted knitted gloves, along with a sweater and jeans.

They walked until they could see the end of the beach, a sandy spit that stuck out into the Sea of Ether like a pier. Neither suggested turning back, though the beach before them dwindled.

“You only have one day left, right?”

“Tomorrow night is the end. I won’t wake him up in the morning. I’ll leave before everyone notices.”

“About that.” Katya stopped, just at the edge of a ruined garden, glancing curiously at the scattered remains of half-burnt succulents. “I can’t let you do it, Eerie.”

“Alex will die for sure if I stay,” Eerie said. “You will too, probably. I need to do it. Don’t you understand? It was all a bad plan from the start.”

“I’ll give you that. I barely understand what you meant to do, and I still think it was terrible execution. That doesn’t mean you just give up.”

“I know what happens if I choose to stay, or run, or fight.” Eerie frowned. “I’m not going to do it.”

“You know that you must decide otherwise, though, right?” Katya picked up a stone from the sand beside her and failed miserably in her attempt to skip it across the surface of the Sea of Ether. “You wouldn’t know what happens if you chose something else.”

“I can’t do it, Katya!” Eerie covered her eyes. “It’s too selfish!”

“Don’t joke around,” Katya said. “How much work have I put into looking after the two of you? Don’t you think it’s selfish to just throw all that work away?”

“I am trying to protect you!” Eerie shouted. “I am trying to think about other people! What else do you want me to do?”

“Alex told me his theory,” Katya said. “He thinks that you made him the way he is because he can stop the Church of Sleep. I think he’s right.” Katya winced. “Please don’t tell him I said that.”

“He’s wrong,” Eerie insisted. “There’s nothing he can do. No one can help.”

“I don’t believe you. You must have had a plan for this. What is it about him? Is it the Absolute Protocol? The Catalyst Effect?”

“That’s all by chance,” Eerie said. “It’s nothing special.”

“A war started the second the boy showed up,” Katya said. “You want me to believe he’s no big deal?”

“Maybe sort of a big deal,” Eerie admitted. “That’s an accident, though. His protocols…”

“You admit it, then. He has two protocols,” Katya said, eyes narrowing. “Anastasia had some sort of intel that indicated that, but I was never sure.”

“Yes, but I never…”

“Eerie, please, stop. We’re friends, right? You said so yourself,” Katya said. “Because we are friends, I know that you are lying to me.”

“I’m not lying, exactly,” Eerie said. “Until recently, I could not remember what was going to happen, only the things that already had. It was hard to make plans. I’m not a precognitive, I’m just different.”

“But you had an idea,” Katya said, taking Eerie’s hands. “Didn’t you?”

“I – maybe, I had something,” Eerie stammered. “I think that…yes.”

“Yes what?”

“I had an idea, a long time ago. It was a bad idea,” Eerie said miserably. “I planned to give him to the Church, as a substitute. That was my whole plan. Alex winds up in the White Room, instead of me.”

“Oh.” Katya grimaced. “That’s not what I had in mind.”

“You see? I needed him to care about me, for it all to work. I ended up caring for him, accidentally, though, and now…well, obviously I can’t do that! Not now. Not to Alex. Not now that I know him.”

“What about that thing that Vivik told you? The thing that Gaul Thule knows? The club activity you suggested. Why haven’t we gone after that?”

“Bad things happen if we go there,” Eerie said. “Maybe it’s better not to do any of that.”

“Losing you would be a bad thing,” Katya said. “Don’t you understand?”

“I understand, I just really, really don’t want everyone to die,” Eerie said. “Is that so bad?”

“That’s perfectly understandable,” Katya said. “The bad part is not letting your friends help you when you need help.”

“Don’t scold me,” Eerie wailed. “Don’t scold me, and don’t be so nice! I’ll cry. I can’t help it!”

“Don’t cry,” Katya said. “Seriously. Don’t. Just tell me what we need to do.”

“We need to get back to the Far Shores,” Eerie said, sniffling. “We also need to, um, live?”

“That should be easy,” Katya said, grinning.

Eerie said nothing. Katya’s grin faltered.

“Eerie? What’s going on?”

“I lied to everyone,” Eerie admitted quietly. “I was going to leave before anything sad happened. Before Alex could get involved. I was going to send you back to the Far Shores, and then…”

“Then what?” Katya looked around apprehensively. “What’s going to happen?”

“I already made arrangements. He is coming to collect me,” Eerie said, the color draining from her face. “John Parson is coming, to take me to the Church. I thought…I thought it was okay, that it would be…oh, I didn’t know I would be so scared. I’m so, so scared, Katya. I didn’t think it would be like this.”

“Okay, calm down, this is okay,” Katya said. “You were going to send me back, right? So, do that thing, just with both of us.”

“I’ve been trying to do that. Nothing works,” Eerie whimpered. “He’s suppressing my protocol. He didn’t used to be able to do things like that, but now that the Church is almost here…”

“Who is John Parson, Eerie?” Katya grabbed the Changeling’s hand, and started back down the beach, though they were at least an hour from the main campus. “Why is he doing this?”

Katya stopped and stared as a man in a brocaded coat stepped from the placid surface of the Sea of Ether onto the beach beside them.

“There is nothing better than hearing two charming young ladies discussing you,” John Parson said, slicking back his hair as he approached them. “I’m very glad you contacted me, Ériu. It will save us all trouble and disagreement. I assure that I have no desire to harm anyone unnecessarily. This way will be so much easier.”

“I know,” Eerie said solemnly, letting go of Katya’s hand. “That’s why I called.”

“And I have come on request,” John Parson said, not leaving any footprints in the sand as he walked. The closer he got, the more Katya became aware of the smell he exuded – a rank blend of dried sweat and hot metal. “Are you ready to go to the Church?”

Katya reached for the needles she had tucked behind her belt.

“No,” Eerie said, shaking her head. “I have changed my mind. I always change my mind.”

“That’s too bad,” John Parson said, his skin pallid and splotchy. “I regret that I cannot do the same. I must take you to the White Room, Ériu, and you must remain there, until there is nothing left of you.”

Eerie looked at Katya and shrugged.

“What do we do now?”

“I guess it’s my turn,” Katya said, stepping in front of the Changeling. “Stay behind me, Eerie.”

“Okay,” Eerie said obediently. “Good luck!”

“You will need more than luck,” John Parson said, sweat soaking through his jacket and dripping from his cuffs. “I cannot imagine what you intend to try to do to stop me. Of all the players in this game, you might be the least significant.”

“I’m an assassin, asshole,” Katya said, bisecting his cerebral cortex with an acupuncture needle, and then adding a pair of sewing needles to his heart for good measure. “You aren’t supposed to notice me.”

John Parson turned to look at Katya. He made a strange face, shook his head aggressively, and then spat the needles back at her. The sewing needles did not have the mass to do much damage, pricking her arm before they fell, but the acupuncture needle went about halfway through her forearm.

Katya grimaced and backed away slowly, holding her pierced arm.

“Oh no!” Eerie stepped forward. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, Eerie,” Katya said, pushing her back. “We need a plan, though.”

“If you don’t want your friend to die, Ériu, then the plan you should suggest is immediate surrender,” John Parson said, spittle leaking out of the corners of his mouth, pink with blood. “Or I promise you that I will kill her, after she suffers horribly. Then I’ll find your boyfriend and do worse to him.”

“Don’t listen to him,” Katya said, watching John carefully. “It’ll be fine. Just think of something, okay?”

“Okay,” Eerie said. “I’m working on it.”

“You can’t,” John crowed. “I’ve suppressed your Kismet Protocol. You won’t be quite so fortunate today.”

“You did. I mean, you were. Or, you could,” Eerie agreed. “For a little while. I’m the youngest, though, and you know what that means.”

“Are you trying to distract me?” John’s eyes protruded unnaturally from the sockets, thin rivulets of tears and mucus dribbling out of the far corners. “I won’t be distracted, and I won’t be fooled. Shall I show you what I am capable of?”

“Be quiet,” Katya said, picking up a handful of sand.

“You’ll like this, I think. It belongs to a boy in the Anathema who reminds me a bit of you – a low-level talent, in this case telekinetic, but he has will and ingenuity.” John Parson grinned at her. Vorpal Blade.

The sand in Katya’s hand disappeared.

Eerie screamed.

Katya made a strange noise, and then the lower half of her arm tumbled onto the beach.

“I warned you,” John said, wet sand dripping from the corners of his eyes and pouring liberally from both ears. “You should have just come with me, Ériu. Now it will be unpleasant.”

Eerie ran to Katya’s side. She tore a strip from the bottom of her T-shirt and used it to tourniquet Katya’s severed arm.

“Eerie, you gotta run,” Katya said, her voice hoarse and faint. “Leave this to me.”

“You hurt my friend,” Eerie said, turning a baleful stare onto John. “You hurt Katya!”

“You are the one who hurt her,” John said, shuffling toward them with sand leaking out of his face. “You created this entire situation. All of this is your fault.”

“I wasn’t angry before,” Eerie said, holding tight to Katya, so that the assassin would not simply fall over. “Now I am very angry.”

“Really?” John loomed over them. “Then how much more so…?”

He leered, and Katya’s right leg was severed at the knee, her lower leg rolling briefly across the sand before it came to rest, toes pointing stiffly up to the grey sky.

Katya went white, but she set her teeth and said nothing. Eerie howled.

“What now, Changeling?” John asked smugly. “Do you volunteer to return with me to the Outer Dark and to the Church of Sleep? Or do I continue my deconstruction of your friend?”

“Eerie,” Katya gasped, clutching her leg. “Run!”

“I don’t need to do that,” Eerie said gently, removing Katya’s belt and using it to stop the blood pulsing from her new amputation. “I told you I was working on it, right? Well, I was. Thank you for buying me the time, Katya. I’m sorry it took so long, but you did everything you needed to do.”

John Parson tilted his head and then smacked it twice, dislodging a clump of coarse sand from his ear.

“What are you talking about?”

Eerie jerked her head in the direction of the main campus.

Mitsuru Aoki stood nearby, her sandals sinking just slightly into the sand.

“I decided to take a walk on the beach this afternoon,” Mitsuru said, peeling off her windbreaker. “Just a minute ago, I got this strange notion that it was extremely important that I hurry out this way, even though I’ve never been here before. It’s funny how that works out, isn’t it, Eerie?”

“Not really,” Eerie said, fussing over the semi-conscious Katya, now lying on the sand. “Nothing is funny.”

“This is quite the surprise,” John said, turning to face her. “You are meant to be dead.”

“Opinions vary,” Mitsuru said, reaching for the gun strapped to her lower back. “These girls are students at the Academy, and therefore in my care. Eerie, is Mr. Parson bothering you?”

“Yes, he is, and he hurt Katya,” Eerie said promptly. “Please do something, Ms. Aoki!”

“There you have it,” Mitsuru said, shrugging. “Not like I’d let you just have your way.”

John Parson squinted, and the sand where she had been standing burst into an impossibly regular column of flame, blue at the base and searing hot. Mitsuru was already moving, so the flames only caught the back of her sandals and singed her ponytail.

Mitsuru connected to the Network and accessed the menu of protocols available for download.

She started with her native protocol, launching a flurry of probes and feints to keep Parson busy and provide her with analytics.

Her vision was augmented by combat telepathy, mapping fields of fire and angles of attack.

A psychic early warning system gave her a half-second to tuck and roll to avoid another spontaneous combustion event, and as she recovered her footing, Mitsuru decided it was time for some offense.

She searched the database for an old favorite and came up empty.

A more thorough search turned up a list that was missing several familiar entries, while including more that Mitsuru had never seen before.

John tried the same attack a third time, but Mitsuru was moving quickly, and the flames erupted far behind her. She opened fire, the bullets slamming into an invisible barrier that coated John’s skin.

Mitsuru’s eyes flicked over to the Changeling, urgently occupied in ministering to Katya, who was in shock and twitching on the sand.

This is a very old server, Eerie.

This was the only backup server that responded when we powered them on. It’s just luck that it happened to be this one.

Luck?

You have changed, Ms. Aoki, Eerie thought. Isn’t it time you found out just how different you really are?

There was no saying how it was done, except that it was not telepathy, nor any form of psychic communication that Mitsuru had ever previously experienced.

One of the protocols on the list of available downloads was highlighted, though the Changeling possessed neither a computer nor telepathy to give her the means to connect to the Network, much less to Mitsuru’s implant.

John appeared to be preparing another attack, his utterly alien Etheric Signature irradiating the surrounding beach as it charged.

There was nothing for it.

Mitsuru downloaded the protocol and activated the new routine, which was actually a very old routine, the metadata indicating the most recent download had been performed shortly after her own birth.

It was like spontaneously understanding a foreign language. Mitsuru could taste nothing but the tang of hot nickel in her mouth, but her nose was filled with an incongruous scent of lemons. Hypnagogic imagery flickered and then vanished, leaving behind brilliant afterimages, outlines of strange and alien forms that evoked an intense rush of nostalgia.

The flow of time dried up like old tree sap, congealing into something that she moved through with difficulty, a viscous gel that clung to her skin and clothing. Beneath the taste of metal, Mitsuru detected a hint of synthetic sweetness, tasting the memory of candy on her tongue.

There was no hurry, Mitsuru thought. It would all end too soon.

A tiny fraction of a second later, she had no idea why she had thought that, but her eyes stung with suppressed tears.

The routine completed before John could finish raising his eyebrows in surprise. Mitsuru raised her hand, gesturing lazily at John, who was busy with his own routine. Strands of time adhered to her hand and dripped from her fingers as she extended them.

“Something new,” Mitsuru said, the weighty presence of the imminent protocol in her mind stimulating her salivary glands. Radiant Death.

***

The banquet room at the manor had not been used in many years, and despite a flurry of activity in the hour leading to the luncheon, the long period of disuse was evident in missed streaks of dust on the furniture and a lingering musty atmosphere.

There were tea sandwiches and pickled vegetables and smoked fish, but no one was eating.

Gaul had poured himself tea, but the steaming cup was left to cool, untouched beside his folded napkin and pristine silverware.

“This is it,” Gaul said. “We have prepared for this moment for generations. This day will decide who owns the future – the Thule Cartel, or our enemies.”

He paused and looked down at the table, as if inspecting the recently applied polish. Lóa touched his bandaged head gently, dispelling the worst of the pain. Gaul collected himself, and then nodded to his niece gratefully.

“I do not have much more time, but it should be enough,” Gaul said, surveying the room gravely. “Should it not, then all of you know what you must do, and all of you know what your part is to play. When I am gone, Egill will take my place at the head of the cartel, with Lóa as his second and advisor. Unless there are any objections?”

Opposite Lóa on the other side of Gaul, Egill folded his arms and glowered menacingly at his extended family, daring them to speak.

Any empath would have been able to tell that several people in the room were deeply unhappy with the arrangement, but the only empath in the room was among the discontented. Gaul had anticipated that, when he had been in the anticipation business, but there was little to be done about it.

There will always be hurt feelings when there can only be one winner among many losers.

He thought it likely that even Lóa was displeased, though she was all smiles and public support, wearing bandages not unlike his own around her bruised and swollen head.

There was no point in worrying over what would happen when he was no longer around to have an influence on it, and Gaul did not need the precognitive skills that Katya had deprived him of to know that he was dying. He could feel the life within him diminishing. His extremities had stopped hurting the day before, and now he felt nothing at all from his toes, and very little from his fingers. His vision was permanently blurred, and the headaches were an agonizing constant, soothed only by his niece’s telepathic intervention.

In quiet moments, he was certain that he could hear his heartbeat fading.

Any usage of his implant was unadulterated agony, but that did not stop him.

There would be no more doing, and no more suffering, and soon.

“My will is already filed with our lawyers, and will be read after my death,” Gaul said dryly. “You will all receive positions and legacies, to the best of my ability. I know that some of you will be disappointed. While there is nothing that I can say to change that, I will remind you that I wished to have nothing to do with the leadership of our cartel and our family. The responsibility fell upon me, and I did what was demanded of me. This is what the Thule Cartel demands of each of us, and this is what I expect of all of you.”

His audience watched without comment.

It was a small audience and destined to grow smaller in the immediate future. Gaul looked over the concerned faces of his extended family and their trusted retainers, wondering if he had made the right decisions.

He missed his protocol the way an amputee misses a lost limb. He could feel the vacancy in his awareness where future probabilities had existed, and it festered on the surface of his mind, rotting what Katya’s crude surgery had not already ravaged.

Gabriela took a pastry from a covered basket on the table.

“We will soon face our cartel’s moment of greatest trial and opportunity,” Gaul said, his voice cracking helplessly on the final syllable. “The world will be yours to inherit. I expect nothing less from you.”

Egill nodded while Lóa gently stroked the back of her uncle’s head, soothing away the worst of the pain.

“You all know what you must do,” Gaul said, brushing away Lóa’s hand. “The future belongs to you. I leave it to you to decide for yourselves what you will make of it.”

***

The exhausted sunlight of the Far Shores was weaponized, a sharpened radiance that rendered John Parson into a semi-solid mass of gore and shredded viscera. The brilliance of the light cleaved through tissue and bone, creating minute scratches in Mitsuru’s corneas and drawing blood from her eyes just witnessing it.

The Anathema was utterly destroyed, every cell of his body perforated and leaking.

The radiance was savage, and when Mitsuru brought up her hand to shield her eyes, it tore gouges in her palm.

Mitsuru’s blood ran from her hands like a white-gold fountain onto the sand.

She closed the loop of the protocol, and the light diminished to its usual gentle state.

John was little more than scraps of flesh and pooled blood, but Mitsuru’s combat readout warned her that he was already beginning to rebuild. She probed the edges of his telepathic defenses as he reconstituted himself, searching for flaws and opportunities.

They wrestled each other on that plane, contesting psychic territory with incorporeal feints and assaults.

She was mistaken. He was not regenerating himself, Mitsuru noted, feeling equal parts awe and horror.

John was restoring to an earlier version of himself, effectively reversing the flow of time in his immediate vicinity to a point when he had been intact.

It was like watching a popsicle melt in reverse. The puddle of viscera gathered into a red outline, a soft and grotesque statue crudely shaped like a man.

Mitsuru opened fire as she charged. She put two bullets through John’s partially rebuilt skull, spraying bone fragments and grey matter across the beach. She distributed the remainder of the magazine through his body, bullets tearing into his sternum, gut, and groin, each round finding a home even as she ran across uneven sand.

Fortified with strength drawn from his Anathema web, John Parson summoned another barrier protocol, a violet-blue field encasing him and shielding his regenerating form.

Mitsuru launched herself at the barrier, her overheated implant scorching her brain as she downloaded a protocol from the emergency archives.

Crackling telekinetic force encased her fist, burnt umber discharging from her fingers to the ground.

She struck the barrier, and there was an explosion, a discharge of feedback that deafened and blinded all of them momentarily. There was sand in her mouth and the scent of ozone in her nostrils. The detonation launched tons of sand into the air and tossed Eerie and Katya meters down the beach.

Mitsuru emerged from the confusion, sand pouring onto her shoulders and hair like rain.

John Parson had musculature enough on his skeleton to move, but was still entirely lacking in skin or sensory organs, the roots of his teeth and the cavities of his eyes exposed and hideous.

Mitsuru pulled the second gun from the holsters at the small of her back.

John drew upon his vast reserves, aiming a telepathic assault at Mitsuru, intending to tamper with her perceptions or interfere with her movement. His power was far greater than her own in this regard, as Mitsuru was a combat telepath, but he found his attack effortlessly countered.

Not even countered, he realized, but somehow avoided, as if psychically sidestepped.

It was an impossibility, but Mitsuru had done it effortlessly, without even pausing in her relentless march forward.

It was a moment later that he noticed that she had counterattacked while he was occupied with his own attack, sneaking inside a flaw in his defenses and establishing a beachhead in his consciousness.

He turned his assault on the breach, but too much of his energy was occupied in rebuilding his body.

Mitsuru stepped beside him and put the gun to his head.

John put everything into a psychic command, forbidding her nervous system from carrying a signal to her forefinger.

She pulled the trigger.

He hastily called a barrier into existence, and then placed two more behind it.

The first shot was deflected harmlessly.

The angle on the second was not ideal, and the barrier cracked, though it held.

The third shot opened the crack wider.

The fourth bullet was lucky, or Mitsuru’s aim was improving, because it burst the first barrier into fragments, and then passed clean through the second, the third only just holding it back and suffering grievous damage in the process.

He apported twenty meters back before the fifth shot could fracture his final barrier.

Mitsuru continued to fire as she sprinted after him, the muzzle tracking him with robotic precision. He just managed to form a new barrier just in time, the transparent wall ringing shrilly with each impact.

She finished the magazine and tossed the gun into the Sea of Ether.

John flexed his new fingers and stretched his brand-new skin. It was pulled unpleasantly tight across his face, and everything felt wet and soft and perhaps a bit rotten, like his organs had been replaced with a load of fruit that had gone south in the heat.

“Listen to me, Mitsuru,” he said, coughing as his pink new lungs adjusted to the atmosphere. “I can offer you—”

She grabbed the pommel of the knife strapped to her back and came in low, whipping the blade out at the last possible moment to slice his belly open.

Rotten fruit, John thought, his guts tumbling out of him in a glistening avalanche, his bowels so fresh and new that the only odor was that of the organs. He laughed instead of wrapping his arms around his stomach.

Mitsuru stepped past him and out of his view.

She grabbed his hair, pulling his head back.

Of course, he thought, not really bothering to fight it.

She slit his throat with one professionally delivered cut, making certain she went deep enough to fully sever the artery.

He stretched his awareness out across his psychic web of Anathema, searching among the protocols of his followers for a last resort.

His body turned to ash, the victim of its own spontaneous funeral pyre.

The ash swirled around Mitsuru, caressing her cheek and leaving behind a soot-grey stain, before reconstituting further down the beach.

John felt worse than ever, fever alternating with chills in waves that swept across the entirety of his new flesh. The overwhelming feeling of softness lingered in his fresh viscera, and John was transfixed by the worry that, should Mitsuru grab him, her fingers would sink into his skin like they would with a rotten pumpkin.

He called up something from his reservoir of Anathema, activating a borrowed protocol across the disturbance in the Ether.

It took a great effort, and a vast amount of power, but both were at John’s disposal.

The featureless wall of clouds above them swirled and darkened. As Mitsuru approached John, higher up on the beach in the deeper sand, a black void opened in Central’s grey sky.

There was a glimmer in the dark, like a headlamp of a distant train, and Mitsuru tensed slightly.

She threw herself to the side, rolling across the beach as a bolt of plasma struck where she had just stood, fusing the sand into red-hot glass.

Mitsuru scrambled to her feet and sprinted clear. Bolts of plasma fell like superheated rain, scouring the beach and searing the back of Mitsuru’s ankles as she ran.

Her implant sizzled in her brain, overtaxed with downloaded protocols.

Mitsuru activated an apport protocol just before a bolt transformed another several meters of beach into hot glass and steam.

She blinked into existence behind John, knife at the ready.

With no time for a barrier, he caught her knife arm in a telekinetic net.

The blade came to a halt, trembling a centimeter short of his new eyes.

Mitsuru strained, and impossibly, the knife started to push forward, severing telekinetic bindings as she forced the blade into imperceptible weaknesses in the net. Energy discharges rippled across her skin and made her jet-black hair stand on end.

It must have been a trick of the light, but for a moment, John Parson could have sworn that he could see the blue blood in the prominent veins in her wrists turn to chrome.

The knife sliced through the net with a flash and a sound like a clap of distant thunder, and sank deep into the side of his neck. Mitsuru twisted and dipped, and for the second time in as many minutes, John’s throat was cut, and his blood spilled warm across his naked chest.

She grabbed him before he could fall over, clutching his head with both hands.

She wrenched his neck to the side, twisting his head the wrong way around. John flailed and dropped to his knees, in immense, indescribable pain.

The eventual snap and spinal dislocation came as something of a relief.

Mitsuru let go of his head, and it drooped onto his bloody chest and hung there, slack and grotesque.

She bent to examine his eyes, and then she reached for her knife.

The first took longer to remove than the second.

Mitsuru buried her knife in his chest, twisting it for good measure.

Removing the blade with difficulty, she cut open his belly and shoved her hand inside, yanking out pink, squishy tissue that draped across the sand in gruesome ribbons.

Mitsuru paused to inspect her work, her arms covered in gore to the elbows.

The body seemed inclined to stay as it was, neither reconstructing nor turning to ash.

She considered the matter, and then risked a final protocol.

“I’m sure you aren’t dead, but I hope now that you understand that these kids are off limits.”

Mitsuru stomped John’s head until the slope of his forehead took on a different angle underneath the heel of her boot.

“Don’t ever come back here,” Mitsuru said, putting her hand on his battered head. “Don’t even dream of bothering my students again.”

She forced an apport through the disturbance in the Ether.

What was left of John Parson manifested before the Inverted Spire, beneath the vast and utterly devoid sky of the Outer Dark, his disemboweled body laid across the threshold of the tower like a pagan sacrifice.

Twenty-Six

Day Six

The walls of the Thule estate were artifacts from prior residents of Central, five meters tall and seemingly carved from a single curved stone. From a distance it looked as if the hill the estate was built upon had been cropped and hollowed out. A manor and a formal garden were nestled inside the walls, perpetually in their shadow. The gates were massive metal slabs, wide enough to accommodate a semi-truck with ease. Cartel soldiers were stationed along the wall in reinforced positions, rifles aimed through notches in the stone. The estate had survived three civil wars and innumerable smaller conflicts without being breached.

Anastasia walked calmly through the gate, passing easily through the worked metal.

The guards stared in shock at the veiled young woman in her black dress as she walked past them.

Lord Gao tore one of the gates from its hinges before they could aim their guns. The guards turned their fire on the vampire, who registered no pain from their bullets. He hefted the gate and tossed it, crushing the guards beneath its vast bulk.

Mai Quan hurried after with an eye on her Mistress’s skirts, moving occasionally to keep them free of the debris. Donner and Blitzen trotted ahead, launching themselves at the survivors in the courtyard. Renton savaged the Thule staff, killing with gun and knife and thought.

The guards stationed along the walls repositioned and opened fire. The bullets passed harmlessly through Anastasia, and ricocheted around Mai without touching her, but the Weir were slowed, whining when they were struck.

Lord Gao charged through the fire.

A few of the Thule soldiers were smart enough to run from the advancing vampire, but it made no difference.

Lord Gao leapt to the top of the wall and tore the gunmen to pieces.

Donner and Blitzen killed guards and gardeners alike as Anastasia calmly marched across the courtyard, while Mai reached out telepathically to distract and frighten snipers. A fixed gun temporarily mounted on the steps of the manor sprayed the courtyard with automatic fire, but the bullets did not even muss Anastasia’s silk gown as they sailed through her.

Mai gave the gunner a look and he stopped firing. His spotter yelled and pleaded, but the gunner took no note of it. He nodded slowly, never taking his eyes from Mai, and then lifted a grenade from his belt, tears dripping from his eyes. His spotter screamed and retreated, but he made it only a few steps before the pin was pulled and the grenade detonated, disintegrating both.

Anastasia walked across the frontage to the manor, passing directly through the fountain in front of the mansion.

The Weir finished the last of the guards and rejoined their Mistress, nuzzling at her black skirts with their bloody muzzles. Mai shooed them away, brushing the gore from Anastasia’s gown with a handkerchief.

“That’s quite enough,” Lóa said, Egill holding the door for her as she advanced slowly, still unused to the braces on her legs and the pair of canes in her hands. “Some of us are fond of this place.”

“Not for long,” Anastasia said. “I allowed your servants to die easily. Produce Courtney Lede and Mohammed Omar, and I’ll extend you and your cousin the same courtesy.”

“That’s unexpectedly cruel,” Lóa remarked, making her way carefully down the broken stone steps. “I had always heard you were so reasonable.”

“Brennan was always going on about that,” Egill agreed, his hand on Lóa’s elbow. “He was obsessed with you.”

“I remember,” Anastasia said. “I did not enjoy my stay at your family estates outside Reykjavik. When we are done here, I promise you that I will reduce that place to ash next.”

“You won’t like this visit, either,” Lóa said. “My uncle warned me that you would come.”

“I am the Mistress of the Black Sun,” Anastasia said, planting her umbrella in the ground in front of her. “You must have known that I would come from the moment you decided to attack my family. What difference does your forewarning make? I will give you one last chance to produce Courtney Lede and Mohammad Omar.”

“They aren’t here,” Egill said. “We sent them on hours ago. To…where was it again, cousin?”

“Home, Egill,” Lóa said. “There’s nothing here of value. There was never any need for you to return to Central, Lady Martynova, but Uncle Gaul told us to keep you distracted for a while. You’ve wasted your time.”

If Anastasia hesitated for a tiny interval, if she was at all perturbed, then it was masked so well by her cultivated poise that only Mai would have noticed, with the benefit of telepathy and long familiarity.

“What foolishness,” Anastasia snapped. “All you can do is delay the inevitable. I won’t forgive you for what you did to my servant, you degenerate.”

“I would be careful what you choose to call me,” Lóa replied. “We are more alike than we are different. We have bathed in the same waters, Lady Martynova. You are as irrational as I am.”

“I have no idea what you are talking about,” Anastasia said. “As for your plans, I could not care less. Do you have any last words?”

“Not from me,” Egill said, with a flippant shrug.

“Then let us begin,” Anastasia said, pointing her umbrella at them. “I will show you no more mercy than you showed my family.”

“This is not the place,” Egill said. “Don’t you think?”

“Yes. That is exactly right,” Lóa said. “You mentioned the estate in Iceland earlier, Lady Martynova, and your intention to return there. I’m sure you won’t mind us accelerating that timetable slightly.”

Anastasia took a firm grip on her umbrella and advanced on them.

“I showed your apport technician in Harbin the same courtesy you extended to my soldiers,” Egill said, with a benign smile. “She died quickly.”

Anastasia stopped.

She did not look at Mai, but Mai closed her eyes and then nodded.

“It is true,” Mai said. “Svetlana is gone.”

“Whatever is left of your family will fare no better,” Lóa said. “You should have learned by now that you cannot protect anything.”

Anastasia lunged at them with the umbrella.

Egill brought his hands together and he and Lóa disappeared, leaving the Mistress of the Black Sun amid the rubble of the Thule familial estate in Central, surrounded by her servants, and the dead.

***

Eerie woke him from a nap when she arrived with coffee and juice and donuts from the machines in the lobby of the infirmary building, which was really a small hospital and veterinary clinic attached to the biology labs at the Far Shores.

Alex shifted on the hard bench and stretched as she closed the door.

“I didn’t hear you leave,” Alex said, yawning.

“I was only gone a minute,” Eerie said, taking the spot beside him where she’d spent much of the night. “I thought you would be hungry.”

Alex glanced at Katya, sleeping in the elevated hospital bed, attached to monitoring cables and IVs.

“How is she?”

“Same as before,” Eerie said, handing him a canned coffee. “Asleep. The doctor came by a few hours ago, and said she was doing well. Just shock, he said.”

“She lost her hand and her leg,” Alex said bitterly, opening the coffee. “That’s more than just shock.”

“It’s my fault,” Eerie said, setting aside her juice. “I should never have—”

“Let’s not do that,” Alex said. “We all messed up.”

“I should have told the truth,” Eerie said, burying her face in her hands. “Now Katya is hurt, and I, I…it’s my fault! If I had just—”

“She’s gonna be okay,” Alex said, putting his arm around Eerie. “Katya’s tough. Don’t worry.”

Eerie nodded and lifted her head, still sniffling.

“Okay?” Alex squeezed her shoulder. “She’ll get through this.”

“Yes,” Eerie agreed. “I know.”

“Do you?” Alex tore open the plastic wrap on the powdered donuts with his teeth. “Is it, like, a sure thing?”

“I’ll believe it if you will.” Eerie took one of the miniature donuts and popped it into her mouth. “They are okay, I guess,” Eerie said, making a face as she swallowed. “I like the outside, but the inside is…it’s a lot of bread, don’t you think?”

“It’s cake,” Alex said, helping himself. “Deep fried cake.”

“Yeah,” Eerie said, licking powdered sugar from her fingers. “I don’t need that.”

“You really are as weird as everyone says.”

“I am, aren’t I?”

“Yeah, but I like that.”

“You better,” Eerie said, pressing her leg against his. “It probably won’t change much.”

They finished the package, Eerie content to lick the sugar from the outside of her half of the donuts.

Alex read a three-month-old celebrity gossip magazine while Eerie napped on his shoulder. The cadence of the monitoring equipment engrained itself in his mind like a burr caught in a woolen sock, and he started anticipating every beep and blinking light.

He might have fallen asleep, or perhaps he just drifted until the nurse showed up on her rounds.

“Good morning,” she said, bustling into the room.

Alex was about to respond, but then he realized she was not looking at him.

“Morning,” Katya said, rubbing her eyes with her remaining hand and yawning. “When do we get to eat?”

Alex and Eerie attempted to swarm onto Katya’s bed, only to be harshly admonished by the nurse.

“It’s okay,” Katya said weakly. “I’m fine.”

“You aren’t fine,” Eerie said. “I’m so sorry!”

“Eh. No big deal,” Katya said. “I’ve had worse.”

“You have not, you liar,” Alex said. “Are you really okay?”

“I’ve still got one leg and one hand,” Katya said, shuddering momentarily when she glanced at the bandaged stump at her left wrist. “It’s like kidneys, right? I’ll get by fine with just one each.”

The nurse finished whatever she had come to do and left, glaring at Alex and Eerie on her way out.

“I tried to fix it,” Eerie said miserably, laying her head on Katya’s uninjured leg. “I really did!”

“I sort of remember that,” Katya said. “You almost choked me with a lollipop.”

“Yeah,” Eerie said. “That was it. It didn’t work.”

“I noticed,” Katya said, touching her reduced leg. “I’m sure you did your best.”

“I failed completely!”

“I didn’t bleed to death, did I?” Katya grinned weakly. “You did alright.”

“Yeah,” Alex said, patting Eerie’s head. “You too, Katya. Thanks for saving her.”

“I didn’t save anyone,” Katya said. “That was all Ms. Aoki. I got my ass kicked.”

“You took on John Parson on your own,” Alex said. “That’s pretty amazing.”

“Yeah. Feels great,” Katya said, leaning back against the pillow. “I feel like a real winner.”

***

Chandi did not bother to look up when she heard the door open.

After all, she knew who would be there.

“I’m nearly finished,” she said, her pen still scratching across the paper. “I’ve done what you asked.”

“Good,” Emily said, wearing her infuriating smile. “The next day is crucial, and I’ll need to know just exactly what I’m doing.”

“You must be careful, acting on any of this. I can give you probabilities and predictions, but nothing is certain until it has happened.”

“I’m comfortable with a bit of ambiguity. I’ve never liked the idea of fate, dear, and I feel that a flair for improvisation is one of my strong points.”

***

The truce between Adel and Eerie was tentative, but it held well enough for them to collaborate on modifying the fixed apport station that afternoon with a minimum of discomfort.

After the first few hours, he felt confident enough to resume their former roles, and started to boss her around a bit. Eerie tolerated it, because Adel had some good ideas, which sped the work.

She did not plan on giving up more than an afternoon of her remaining time, no matter how necessary visiting the Thule estate in Iceland was. Still, it needed to be done, so Eerie did her best to concentrate and make orderly progress in adjusting the apport station.

Eerie was making the best of things.

She finished a few crucial tasks, and then let Adel handle the rest of the hardware modifications.

The firmware for the fixed apport station was encrypted and secured, but that was no big deal. The source code was meant to be modified with a proprietary coding suite, and was incompatible with every commercial compiler, so that took an hour or so to work around.

By the time Alex and Emily showed up in field gear and a sundress, respectively, she was nearly done with the required coding. Once Eerie had finally accessed the source code, it really hadn’t taken much to get it ready to do the impossible. Just a few additional lines, a home-brewed firmware update pushed locally to the station, and it would all work.

She was certain of it.

“I don’t get why we need the station,” Alex said, as they approached. “Why not have Marcus take us wherever we need to go?”

“He’s an old man,” Emily reminded him. “We’ve already pushed him too far.”

“He’s not that old,” Alex said defensively. “Is he?”

“You’d be surprised,” Emily said.

“What about you, then? Can’t you just walk us there?”

“I don’t want to arrive exhausted,” Emily said. “It’s not as easy as you make it sound.”

“I don’t know,” Alex fretted. “Won’t they know we are coming?”

“Gaul is – well, was, thanks to Katya – a precognitive,” Emily said. “I assume he knows already. Hello, Eerie. Hello Adel. How goes the work?”

Eerie did not look up from her laptop.

“Fine,” Eerie said. “We are almost…”

“We have made a great deal of progress,” Adel said, hurrying to Emily’s side. “I’ve already completed the modifications to the interface, and I’m just waiting for Eerie to finish a bit of code, and then we can start replacing components in the transfer array.”

Eerie blushed with anger, but she said nothing.

Alex sat down beside her and put his arm around her. His gear was sweaty and dusty from the field, and did not smell entirely good, but it was not all that bad, either.

“Let me know if I’m in the way,” he said. “I can move.”

“No, no,” Eerie said, scooting closer. “Stay.”

“Very good work, Adel,” Emily said, touching him gently on the shoulder. “I appreciate your help.”

“Think n-nothing of it,” Adel stammered. “I’m happy to help.”

“You are sure this will work, Eerie?” Emily asked. “The Thule estate is protected by a barrier. Won’t that prevent an unauthorized apport?”

“Normally it would,” Eerie tapped a final key, and then looked up at Emily. “Wouldn’t it be crazy if this time, it didn’t go like that? Really crazy?”

Alex laughed.

“She can do it,” he said. “No doubt.”

Eerie blushed again, for an entirely different reason.

“If you say so,” Emily said. “When will the station be ready, dear?”

“My work is mostly done,” Eerie said. “Just a few more things. Half an hour at most.”

“The hardware will take longer,” Adel said, glancing up from the motherboard he was preparing to solder. “I wouldn’t expect it to be ready until tomorrow.”

“Adel, dear, it must be ready by the morning,” Emily said, smiling at him. “The timing is absolutely imperative. Can you promise me that?”

“Of course,” Adel said, gulping. “I promise.”

“Eerie, listen,” Alex said, looking concerned. “I don’t think you should come with us to Iceland. It might be dangerous. Why don’t you stay here and watch with Vivik? If anything goes wrong, you’ll be able to use the station to bring us back.”

“Adel or Vivik can do that,” Eerie said. “We have been away from each other long enough. We will not be apart until we have to be apart.”

“That’s fine with me,” Emily said, looking as if she found the whole situation funny. “The more the merrier, right, Alex dear?”

Alex frowned, but did not argue. He just pulled Eerie closer.

Like he always did.

Like he would do.

Like he was.

***

Alice spent half an hour looking before she finally found Rebecca. She was sitting at the edge of the lap pool in the gym with her feet dangling in the water, a cup of coffee in one hand and wad of nicotine gum shoved in her cheek.

“Hey, Becca,” Alice said, sitting beside her at the edge of the pool. “You make any decisions yet?”

“Decisions? I’ve made a million of them. I was up most of the night, dealing with refugee stuff. The Far Shores was never meant to hold this many people. There are no supplies, not even enough water. It’s better than nothing, but if we don’t get control of at least the Academy soon, we’re gonna have problems.”

“We already have problems,” Alice observed, pulling her boots off. “What about the Far Shores? You just gonna let Emily have it?”

“Fuck no! It’s ours.”

“You don’t have to tell me that,” Alice said, peeling off her socks and then tossing them aside with her boots. “I’m ready to kick her out right now.”

“We can’t do that,” Rebecca said. “As much as I want to reclaim the Far Shores, Emily knows how to pick her moment. We’ve got enough enemies as it is, and she’s already showed us that she’s no pushover, even without her motley band of friends.”

“Yeah. I owe her for that,” Alice said, sighing and wriggling her toes as she dipped her feet in the pool. “Among other things.”

“What other things?”

“I don’t remember,” Alice said. “Pretty sure she has an ass-kicking coming her way, though.”

“She deserves it just for messing with our Auditors,” Rebecca said. “I’m not sure what we can expect from Alex and Katya.”

“Not to mention Mitsuru.”

“Yeah, Mitzi. That’s a whole other thing.”

“Still Emily’s fault.” Alice smirked. “Little bitch is running us in circles, isn’t she?”

Rebecca said nothing, but she ground her gum between her molars.

“On a completely unrelated note, I had a staff member go through your field kit and take care of the laundry.”

“Yeah?” Alice shrugged. “Thanks?”

Rebecca studied her closely for a moment.

“You really have no idea what I’m talking about?”

Alice shook her head.

“Okay, then,” Rebecca said, spitting her gum into the remainder of her coffee, and then setting aside the mug. “What is up with the head in your kit bag?”

Alice grinned. The grin slowly faded when it was not returned by Rebecca.

“A head?”

“Some guy’s severed head, in your bag. Ring any bells?”

Alice chewed on her thumbnail while she thought about it. After a minute or so, she kicked her legs in frustration, splashing water out of the pool.

“I have no idea,” Alice admitted. “I think I remember something…”

Rebecca reached smoothly into her friend’s head, for the thousandth or the ten-thousandth time. It was as easy as fitting a key into a lock, a routine entry.

“Something happened in Las Vegas,” Rebecca said. “What was it?”

“I met someone,” Alice said. “I met a guy.”

“You met a guy,” Rebecca said. “A bad guy?”

“I’m not sure.”

“The technicians say he’s not Anathema. Dental records don’t match any files they can pull up on the emergency network. DNA will take a while, given the circumstances, but I’m not optimistic.”

“That’s so weird,” Alice said. “I think I remember something, but it’s so vague.”

Rebecca pushed gently into Alice’s mind, horrified by what she found there. She found very little where Alice’s memories should have been, even less than she expected. Alistair had warned Rebecca years ago that Alice’s memory was physically destroyed by her protocol. It was not a matter of forgetting. Each usage of her protocol overwrote existing memories with mnemonic white noise.

Rebecca had found similar dead zones in Alex’s memories. The damage was acute, as if they had been victims of a crude surgery. There was no recovery possible in either case. They were not amnesiacs; they were erasure victims.

Rebecca had created a remote backup of some of Alice’s memories and personality with Alistair’s help, from which she could be periodically restored, but the process was impossible without Alistair’s peerless telepathic ability and the database he maintained in his own head.

There was nothing Rebecca could do but investigate the scraps left behind. She prodded and poked at the remnants.

“There’s something about sushi,” Alice said, prompted by Rebecca’s meddling. “A big fancy room with lots of windows, way up high.”

“Sounds nice,” Rebecca said. “Did you kill him?”

“I don’t remember,” Alice said. “I’m pretty sure his head was attached when we met.”

“Yeah. They usually are.”

Alice kicked her legs, sending little waves across the surface of the pool.

Rebecca took the pack of nicotine gum she had purloined from the infirmary from her pocket, and shoved two new pieces into her mouth, chewing while she rummaged about in Alice’s head, tidying up and putting things back together, like a hotel maid after the departure of raucous guests.

There were bits and pieces to pour over, but she found no answers.

The man’s face looked very different in Alice’s memory, compared to the visage of the severed head.

Rebecca lingered over his face. He seemed somehow familiar.

“So that’s it, huh?” Alice stared at herself in the pool, wearing an expression of unadulterated misery. “I’m just decapitating random guys, now?”

Rebecca put her arm around Alice, resolving to move the head from the freezer behind the kitchen to the incinerator at her first opportunity.

“I’m sure it’s not like that,” Rebecca said soothingly. “He was probably a jerk who deserved it.”

“I can’t really remember or anything, but I’m pretty sure…I don’t think he was, Becca.”

“I know you had your reasons,” Rebecca insisted, gradually wiping away what remained of the memory, along with its emotional aftermath. “You always do.”

***

Alex smiled self-consciously as he knocked on the doorframe.

“I wanted to talk,” he said unnecessarily. “Can we talk?”

Hayley sighed and put aside her tablet.

“You were really the best that they could do?” Hayley gave him a doubtful look. “We barely know each other.”

“That’s more than the rest of them could say,” Alex said. “Unless you prefer to talk to Katya?”

“No Black Sun assassins in my room, thank you very much,” Hayley said, frowning. “You can come inside.”

Alex came in, marveling privately at how clean her dorm was.

“You got your room back. And your stuff.”

“So?”

“I told you Emily would help, if you just asked.”

“Shut up. Close the door.”

He followed her instructions, still trying to choose his words.

“Okay,” Hayley said, taking out her ear buds. “What do you want?”

“I want your help,” Alex said, dismissing any thoughts of subtlety. “Well, we do, really.”

“Who is ‘we’? You and Emily? You and Eerie?”

“Eerie’s club, I guess,” Alex said. “You know.”

“Which club is that?”

“C’mon. Don’t make me say it.”

“I sort of want to.”

“Oh, come on!”

“I really wanna hear it.”

“Okay, fine. The Rescue Alex from the Outer Dark Club requests your assistance again, Hayley.”

“I don’t know,” Hayley said, glancing at a row of pictures arranged on her bedside table. “Last time I helped you guys out, it cost me a dog. Derrida was very important to me.”

“Eerie really liked him, too,” Alex said. “She keeps telling me how cool he was.”

“He was pretty cool,” Hayley said, picking up one of the photos. “I miss him.”

“I know what it’s like,” Alex blurted out, earning a look of puzzlement. “I know what it feels like.”

“Is that so?”

“Yeah! I mean, not a dog, obviously. I lost a vampire. I mean, a friend! A friendly vampire.” Alex started to sweat. “Margot Feld was my friend. You know? Losing her was hard. So, I get it. At least a little.”

“I’m not sure that’s at all the same, but it was kinda sweet,” Hayley said, laughing. “Thanks for that.”

“Don’t mention it.”

“What does your club want this time? I’m not too enthusiastic about lending you another dog.”

“It’s not that. No dogs, this time.”

“Okay.”

“We want you, instead.”

“What? Are you crazy?” Hayley shook her head. “I’m an Auditor, Alex. Unlike some people I know. Are you trying to get me in trouble?”

“I’m not! I promise. It’s just…”

“Ms. Gallow is still very angry with you, and even more so with Katya,” Hayley said. “She talks about it all the time.”

“She does? Oh.” Alex felt his stomach twist. “I’d sort of hoped she had moved on.”

“She is definitely not moving on,” Hayley said. “She might let you live, I think, but Katya’s for sure dead. I think Ms. Gallow might settle for just cutting off your fingers or something.”

“Little late for that,” Alex muttered. “Listen, this isn’t something you’ll get in trouble for. It’s totally okay. Like, if we told Ms. Gallow about it, she’d be completely fine with it.”

“Let’s go tell her, then,” Hayley said. “If she’s cool, then I’m happy to help.”

“Yeah, okay, maybe not quite that cool, but it’s nothing bad,” Alex continued doggedly. “Ms. Gallow will never know.”

“You want me to lie to her?”

“Not, uh, not necessarily.”

“How else would she not find out? I’m deployed in the field as an Auditor right now. I don’t get free time, and I’m certainly not supposed to be out doing favors.”

“I’m trying to save Eerie, okay?” Alex stared at the carpet and felt miserable. “Something happens in a couple of days…”

“The Church of Sleep,” Hayley said softly. “I can feel it, just a little. It…hurts, I guess. I’ve never felt anything like it, and it’s been getting worse. I think all telepaths must be able to feel it.”

“It’s coming for her. For Eerie. I don’t want…I’m not going to lose her. We have a plan to stop it and save her. I’m sure it will work, but we could really use your help.”

“If you were sure, you wouldn’t be taking the risk of asking me,” Hayley said. “You know I was sent to spy on the Auditors for the Hegemony. My parents had a covert surveillance implant installed when I joined, but apparently Ms. Levy noticed right off the bat,” Hayley said. “She tore it out, so my parents had to level with me instead. A whole lot of unnecessary work, if you ask me. I don’t mind at all. None of the Auditors are trustworthy, and most of you are bad people. Except for Xia.”

“How does Xia get off scot-free?”

“None of your business. You also must know that I am terrified of Ms. Gallow,” Hayley said. “No bullshit, she just scares the hell out of me.”

“I just sort of assumed. Who isn’t scared of her?”

“That’s two good reasons not to tell me what you are up to. I’ll give you a third.”

“I really don’t need…”

“I won’t help you,” Hayley declared. “I’m not risking my life or my status for your love affair, and I barely know Eerie.”

“Okay, well, that sucks,” Alex said. “Are you sure?”

“Completely sure. Do you want to tell me your plan anyway?”

“Why not?” Alex shrugged. “I’m no fucking good with secrets.”

He told her everything, just the way that Vivik had laid it out. Here and there were flourishes that were pure Emily, but the plan was for the most part a fair representation of Vivik’s character – thoughtful, patient, and mildly infuriating.

It seemed as likely to work as anything.

“I know you haven’t thought this through, but I bet Vivik did,” Hayley said, hugging her pillow as she considered it. “He had to know you would tell me everything.”

“I sure hope he does,” Alex said. “I’m pretty much depending on it.”

“You are one-hundred percent relying on it,” Hayley corrected. “You don’t see it, do you? You are talking about neutralizing Gaul Thule, on the eve of a giant war, civil and otherwise, predicated entirely on him. That would change everything, not just things for Eerie.”

“I know that,” Alex said. “Of course.”

“Do you really? Do you know what it would mean for me?”

“You already said you weren’t going to help. I get it.”

“That’s not…I work for the Hegemony, Alex.”

“I thought you were an Auditor.”

“I’m that, too,” Hayley said. “I grew up in the Hegemony, and until I was recruited to Audits, I worked as an Operator for my cartel. Walking away isn’t that easy, even if I wanted to. The Hegemony didn’t want that, anyway – they wanted Hegemonic Auditors. That was the whole idea.”

“Like Katya, with the Black Sun. Right?”

“Yeah, like that, but less murdery. I’m an Operator, not an assassin. I’m sure Grigori is doing the same thing, but we’ve never talked about it. My family and his don’t really interact much.”

“Being an Operator isn’t so different from being an assassin. We both kill people, right?” Alex shrugged. “Same difference.”

“It is not at all the same,” Hayley retorted. “I hope you don’t have to learn how wrong you are.”

“Whatever. Can I go?”

“Not now! God, you are dense,” Hayley groused. “I’ve been reporting to my parents this entire time. The previous Lord Thule – Gaul’s brother – was my godfather, you know.”

“Oh shit,” Alex said. “Shit.”

“Yeah. Gaul Thule is a big problem for a lot of people, you know, not just you and your friends. Doing something like what you are thinking about has all sorts of repercussions.”

“We’re just gonna ask him a couple questions,” Alex said. “How is that a problem?”

“You are doing this with Katya, right? She’s a Black Sun assassin. Gaul Thule just had Josef Martynova assassinated. Remember?”

“Yeah.” Alex grimaced. “I should have thought of that.”

“Here’s another thing you should have thought about,” Hayley said. “I assume that Emily means to tag along? I don’t know if you’ve forgotten this, or if you just never noticed because you don’t care about anyone except yourself…”

“Hey! Where do you get off saying that about me?”

“I’m a telepath. I know way more about you than I would like to,” Hayley said. “Gaul Thule killed her parents. What do you think she has in mind for him?”

“They’re gonna kill him, aren’t they?” Alex rubbed his numb eye. “That’s the idea.”

“Vivik knows all of this, I’m sure, because he pays attention to what other people say and think and feel,” Hayley said. “Unlike some people. He must also know what sort of conclusions I would come to, and the position that would put me in.”

“I’m lost. Is that good or bad for me?”

“See? There you go again. You’re such a narcissist.”

“Are you gonna help us or not, Hayley?”

“I’m obligated to do something,” Hayley said, putting her tablet on top of a pile of books and grabbing for her jacket. “Lord North has declared open season on Gaul Thule, and so has the Director. I can’t possibly just ignore what you have planned.”

Alex perked up.

“You’ll help us, then?”

“No, I’m not going to help you, dumbass,” Hayley said, picking up her phone. “I’m gonna call my dad. I told you, I’m a Hegemony spy. Vivik must have figured I’d do this exact thing, though I can’t imagine why. I’ll tell my dad everything. He’ll probably report it all to Lord North. Whether he decides to help you or not is up to him.”

“Oh.” Alex thought about it. “Good?”

“Not necessarily.”

***

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.”

“Are you sure? You seem down.”

“Maybe a little.” She shifted in his arms. “There’s not much time left.”

“Don’t talk like that. We’re going to fix it tomorrow, for sure, okay?”

“Okay.”

“Do you believe me?”

“I believe in you.”

“That’s not the same thing.”

“No.”

“Listen, about that the thing on the beach today, with John Parson.”

“Yes?”

“That wasn’t an accident, was it?”

She rolled away from him, as far as the tiny dorm bed would allow.

“Maybe.”

“It wasn’t a coincidence, was it? You went to meet him there. The walk with Katya was just a cover, wasn’t it?”

“Maybe.”

“You were gonna go to the Church with him, weren’t you?”

“Would you be mad, if I was?”

“Yeah,” he said, holding her tighter. “Very.”

“Then I wasn’t,” she said. “I wouldn’t do that.”

***

Vivik woke to find a woman shaking him violently by the shoulders, and assumed that it was Leigh, who had been lying beside him when he fell asleep. Then his eyes cleared, and he discovered that it was Hayley, who was sobbing hysterically as she pulled on his shoulders.

“You knew, didn’t you?” Hayley demanded. “You knew!”

“I knew,” Vivik said, pushing her away indelicately. “Get off me.”

Hayley tumbled to the floor on her knees. She stayed there, weeping into her hands, while Vivik sat up and swung his legs out of bed, wincing when he put his bare feet on the cold floor.

“My mom! My mom and my dad and my brothers…” Hayley choked back a sob, snot dripping from the end of her nose. “Why didn’t you have Alex tell me they were dead?”

“He didn’t know. Would you really have preferred to hear it from him?” Vivik said, slipping on his turban and rubbing his eyes. “It was better for you to find out yourself from sources you trust. You would have gone to them to confirm it if we told you, regardless, so what is the difference?”

“You’re cold,” Hayley murmured. “You don’t care at all, do you?”

“I feel bad for you, but I also hardly know you. I cared enough to make sure you found out, didn’t I?”

“I was planning to check in with them as soon as the Ether calmed down a bit more,” Hayley said. “You just hurried me along.”

“I did what I could. What do you want from me?”

“My whole family was murdered,” Hayley said, shuddering as she spoke. “Tell me who did it.”

“You must already know,” Vivik said, yawning. “Lord North had it done, though his sons that pulled the trigger.”

“North,” Hayley said, grimacing as if the word tasted bad. “Did you say ‘sons’? Because he only has the one.”

“He plans to let Nathan Drava marry into the family. That was the deal,” Vivik explained. “Lord North takes over Central, his son Kevin gets the North Cartel, and Nathan gets to marry North’s daughter, Madison. He had them kill your family to seal the deal.”

“Why? Why would he—?”

“You know why already. Your parents have opposed Lord North for years,” Vivik said. “North was opposed by the Thule Cartel, your family, and the Muir and Ricci families. He conspired to eliminate the Muir family already, so when Thule split with the Hegemony, he only had to deal with your family and the Riccis.”

“Sara’s parents, too?”

“Yeah. It’s been very grim.”

“I shared a tutor with Nathan for two years,” Hayley said, shivering on the floor. “Why would he do this?”

“I watched him murder his own father and brother in cold blood,” Vivik said. “I think there’s something very wrong with Nathan Drava.”

Hayley started to say something, but her voice died away before the first word finished.

Vivik looked away politely while she wept.

When he judged her at least somewhat composed, he handed her a box of tissues.

She turned away from him, and then loudly blew her nose. She wiped her eyes and cheeks with a second tissue.

“You wanted me to know,” Hayley said. “You must have had a reason. What do you want from me, Vivik?”

“Nothing,” he said. “I just thought you should know.”

“Bullshit,” Hayley said. “You work for Emily. Even if you don’t want something, she does.”

“It is funny you mention that,” Vivik said. “She did ask me to send you her way. She said she would be waiting up, so you can go over now, if you are up for it.”

Hayley stood up, and then lingered, staring at him with her lips curled into the beginning of a snarl.

He got the feeling she was looking for words, so he waited, making sure the strain on his patience showed on his face.

“Bastard,” Hayley said finally. “You should have told me.”

“Why? You wouldn’t have believed me.”

“No, I wouldn’t,” Hayley said. “But I might have at least thought you cared.”

She marched out of the room.

Vivik sat at the edge of his bed until he heard the front door slam, and Hayley crunching through the gravel out front.

He yawned, and then lay back on the bed, summoning the windows into existence above him, a private galaxy of glimmering points of view.

The window that settled in front of him, dominating his view, was the default for his protocol.

Emily sat in her living room in a china-pattern dress, a steaming mug of tea in one hand, the other twirling a lock of her hair.

She locked eyes with him, though his surveillance was imperceptible even to the most accomplished telepaths, and then she smiled, exposing a narrow strip of white between her pink lips.

Vivik returned her smile, though she could not see him, and then propped his head with pillows and settled in to watch.

He was awake already, and in no mood to go back to sleep, Vivik thought, his hand straying to the depression in the mattress cover beside him, the only evidence of Leigh’s former presence in his bed.

Her scent never lingered on the pillow, and he never found any of her straw-blonde hair on his bedding. Her synthetic cells neither grew nor died off, and her cool and immaculate body harbored no bacteria. Her skin never flushed, and she did not sweat. Leigh was sterile until he touched her, and she left nothing of herself behind when she departed.

It did not feel like a romance, Vivik decided, or even an affair.

It felt more like a haunting, albeit an extremely desirable one.

***

“Are you awake?”

She knew he was not, of course.

He only woke up in the mornings because she wanted him to so badly, and that was a temporary condition. The impending reality of his long sleep filled her with a sense of desperate and unfulfillable urgency, her heart fluttering uncomfortably and cold sweat beading on her skin. The sheets were damp and sticky, and Alex had stolen more than his share. He was pressed against her, warm and snoring, nearly crushing her against the dorm wall.

It would already be so long. Could she bear even longer?

There was no need to wait for the apport station, truly. If she wanted, she could have simply willed herself there, to the Thule estate, and asked Gaul directly. She had invented dozens of reasons for not doing that, but alone in the middle of the night, the truth was unavoidable.

She was afraid.

She was frightened of what Gaul might tell her, and even more frightened, because she knew that she would do it. Whatever it was.

There were so many paths forward, but there was only one that she would take. She did not question that, in the anxious clarity of the early morning.

She only wondered if she could live with it.

Eerie gently pushed Alex away and rolled to her back.

The room was dark, and the air hinted at mildew. Eerie did not need light to see the scars that Alex bore already. The nanites repaired tissue and sinew, so there was little trace of the damage on his skin, but she could feel the frigidity of his false eye and fingertips from where she lay, and the trauma etched into his violated brain spilled into the atmosphere as he slept.

She knew his sleeping face like the back of her hand. How much time had they already spent, just like this, he asleep and she awake, lying side by side?

How much more could she bear?

Eerie clutched her arms to her chest, and considered what Alistair had done, and what Samnang had done to the young man beside her, eyes closed and mouth wide open. She thought about the Program, and the years of incarceration, and the Weir that he called Mr. Blue-Tie in the privacy of his recurring nightmares.

Was it already too much? Had she broken him irrevocably?

She knew immediately that was wrong. She was far past that sort of consideration.

She had conspired to take his family and his life away, and then replaced it with years of confinement and isolation. She made herself the sole bright point in his existence, the entirety of whatever happiness he knew, but it was only like that because she had deprived him of every other possible joy.

Could she really ask him for even more?

If he gave it, could she live with that?

Alex rolled over in his sleep, his arm flopping uncomfortably across her chest.

“I wish you were awake,” Eerie said. “I would tell you everything, if you would only wake up on your own, just once.”

Alex opened his mouth and drew breath, and for a moment she was sure he was about to speak.

Then he snored, and Eerie smiled in the temperate dark and nestled closer to him.

She was asking the wrong questions, she thought, drifting slowly toward sleep.

Eerie knew that she would try to save herself, because she could do nothing else, despite her best efforts.

That was a selfish thing to do, but she was selfish.

She would try to save Alex for the same reason.

Eerie knew what a good person would have done, and she also knew that she was not a good person.

She would ask for his help, because she always did. He would try to save her, because he always did.

She would do whatever she could, to continue being. It was a source of some small satisfaction to her, that despite her alien nature, she was no different than any other animal in a trap.

Alex would fight, because that was what he had been taught.

All of that was the way it always was, is, and would be.

The only question, really, was how she would live with it, and how she would try to make amends. Lying beside the young man she thrilled to think of as her boyfriend, her lover, Eerie felt very selfish indeed.

Selfish enough, she wondered, to do what she knew she would do?

Of course. That was never in question.

The rest was apologies and regrets, atrocities and funerals and whole oceans of bitter loneliness.

As it was.

As it is.

As it would be.

Eerie drifted toward sleep, hating her own exhaustion, hating the wasted time and the imposition. Every time she closed her eyes to rest, Eerie reasoned, that was a surrender, another kind of return to the Church.

***

Emily opened the door before Hayley could knock.

Hayley’s hair was wild and her face streaked with tears. Emily was composed and unsurprised, still wearing makeup and heels despite the hour.

“You told Vivik to…inform me. About what happened to my family. You want something from me, and I have no desire to remain in your debt,” Hayley said, her face contorted with the intensity of her emotions. “What is it?”

“I’m so glad you asked. It is extremely fortuitous timing, because I have to admit, I never learned how to drive,” Emily said, with a welcoming smile. “Won’t you come inside?”

Twenty-Seven

Day Six

Hvolsvöllur was barely a town, but traffic was heavy, and Hayley was an absurdly cautious driver, so Alex had ample time to study the neat houses and small farms they passed. The green of their immediate surroundings was in sharp contrast to the snow-covered slopes of the mountains that loomed behind it, and the black and angry sea to the south.

Alex was wedged into the middle seat in the back of the car between Eerie and Leigh. Eerie had her face glued to the window, regularly shouting discoveries, while Leigh stared straight ahead and looked bored. Emily sat in the passenger seat, occasionally providing directions to Hayley. Alex was cramped and uncomfortable on the raised seat but was also afforded an excellent view out the windshield between Hayley and Emily, the latter of whom barely looked up from her phone during the interminable drive from Reykjavik. A direct apport had been ruled out, in the hopes of achieving some level of surprise, but to Alex, the whole process of renting the car and then crawling along the highway for an hour seemed an unnecessary risk, but even more of a waste of time.

That was natural, he supposed. He and Eerie were on the clock.

He was tense until they left the city.

Then, as they pulled on to Route One, Iceland’s famous ring road, choked with traffic due to an accident they never actually saw, Eerie put her arm around Alex, and he breathed deeply of her cinnamon and aloe scent as he nestled against her side. She stroked his head gently, running her fingers through his hair, and he was nearly lulled to sleep.

Eventually they left the congested highway for a narrow asphalt lane. They followed in the direction of one of the white mountains for a few minutes, then turned on to a dirt road that meandered in the direction of the sea. The road bounced and tossed them about the cabin for a few minutes before settling into a steady vibration that made Alex a little queasy.

He was grateful when Emily said something, and Hayley pulled the van over to the side of the road. Alex hurried out of the van, forewarned by the internet and braced for the cold.

The internet had not mentioned the wind, which turned his jacket into a fluttering sail at the first opportunity. They were standing amid green fields, beneath a sky so uniformly grey that they could have been back in Central. The sea loomed large on Alex’s right side; a fenced manor house imposed itself on the gentle landscape, standing like a sentinel between them and the ocean. The house was surrounded by a stone wall crowned with clusters of razor-like protrusions, punctuated with cameras.

It all hardly seemed necessary to Alex, given the location.

The house was old, and seemed short to Alex, given how wide it was, no more than two stories but extending for what seemed to Alex to be a city block in a nearly perfect rectangle. It was made of fresh-stained wood and prehistoric rock and showed a history of expansion, the southern wing uncomfortably modern in comparison to the English-style manor to which it was attached. There was a gate, and behind the gate there was a fountain filled with murky, still water. Alex could see at least one black car through the gate, but the driveway was wide and there was presumably a garage, so it was impossible to estimate the estate’s population.

To Alex, the place looked big enough to hold a hundred people, and he felt his stomach turn over at the thought of what they were about to do.

“Maybe we should have apported directly after all,” Emily said, surveying the muddy track ahead of them gloomily. “It’s a bit of a mess, isn’t it?”

Leigh shrugged and started off.

“Chandi told you not to wear shoes you liked,” the vampire said. “You didn’t listen, did you?”

“No,” Emily said, glancing down at her tapered riding boots. “I did not.”

“I should have listened to Chandi,” Eerie said, looking sadly at her neon sneakers. “They are doomed.”

“I got you,” Alex said, bending down in front of her. “Hop up.”

Eerie hesitated for such a brief interval that an observer would have been forgiven for thinking she had not hesitated at all.

She was only a little heavier than he expected, but Alex was clever enough not to remark on it. He leaned forward slightly and put his hands beneath her thighs, she wrapped her legs around his waist and put her arms loosely around his neck, and then started down the road, his shoes squelching in the black mud with each step.

It was not exactly easy going, but Alex was careful not to so much as breathe hard.

He slid his hands back a little bit, so that they cupped her butt. Eerie giggled and squeezed him with her legs.

“Hey,” Alex said, an idea striking him. “Did you plan this?”

“Wh-what do you mean?”

“You must have known about the mud, right? You should have known not to wear anything you liked.”

“I, uh, I maybe kinda knew,” Eerie admitted quietly. “A little.”

“Then why…?”

“I wanted you to carry me,” Eerie said. “It always happens in your cartoons.”

“It does, doesn’t it?” Alex laughed. “I never noticed.”

“I watched them all, and I noticed everything,” Eerie said. “I took notes.”

“I sort of wish you hadn’t done that.”

“Do you wish that I hadn’t watched the perverted ones?”

“Yeah,” Alex admitted, his cheeks hot despite the cold wind that abused them. “That’s it.”

“I wasn’t bothered. I think being interested in that sort of thing is normal.”

“I wish you didn’t feel like you needed to try so hard,” Alex said. “You can just be yourself.”

“How can I? That person does not exist,” Eerie said. “Do I have to get down now?”

“No, you’re fine,” Alex said, shifting her weight slightly. “I don’t mind at all. Is it what you hoped for?”

Eerie leaned her cheek against his shoulder while she thought about it.

“The carrying is actually sort of uncomfortable,” she admitted. “The offer, though, was very cool.”

“Is it that uncomfortable? I can set you down…”

“No, it’s okay,” Eerie said. “It’s not bad, and anyway, I seriously don’t want to ruin these shoes.”

He carried her down the lane, ploddingly steadily through the mud and steering around puddles. The land on either side was fenced off, but looked to be planted with nothing but grass, which grew lush and long. Hayley waited for them about halfway to the manor, leaning against the fence and looking up at the mountains, her back to the sea.

“Why are you carrying her?” Hayley gave them a puzzled look. “Is she hurt?”

“She’s fine,” Alex said. “You can ask her yourself, you know.”

“Yes.” Hayley matched his slow pace. “I know.”

Hayley said nothing as they plodded toward the manor.

“What’s wrong?” Alex adjusted Eerie’s position on his back. “Why are you here, anyway? You told me you wouldn’t help. You said you had to report to your parents.”

“Emily asked me to come,” Hayley said, turning away. “I don’t want to talk about my family.”

“That’s all? She asked, and you just decided to help out?”

“I’ve helped the Rescue Alex from the Outer Dark Club before,” Hayley said. “It’s not that strange.”

“You’re an Auditor, though.”

“So are you. Right?”

“I don’t know,” Alex said. “I haven’t decided.”

“Make up your damn mind,” Hayley said. “This isn’t a good time to be wishy-washy.”

“I know.”

“Just be glad I’m here,” Hayley suggested. “You’ll need the help.”

“Oh,” Alex said. “Thanks, I guess.”

No one said another word until they got to the gate, where Emily and the rest waited.

“They must know we are here,” Emily said, smiling like that was good news. “I suppose that makes the next play theirs.”

“They better make it soon,” Leigh said, impatient and vastly underdressed. “I don’t feel like standing outside all day.”

“They will,” Emily assured them. “Any moment now.”

The gate rumbled open, moving so slowly that it seemed reluctant to admit them.

Gaul and Lóa Thule waited for them in front of the house, standing not far from the silent fountain, flanked by a pair of grim-looking retainers in plain suits and sunglasses. Hope Loring sat on the front steps to the manor with a cup of tea, a pink cardigan pulled tight around her shoulders, and gave them a little wave as they entered.

Gaul looked the worse for the wear, with bandages around his head and a sickly pallor, but Lóa appeared to be in even rougher shape. Her slightly swollen head was wrapped with her own set of bandages, but she had added a pair of aluminum crutches to the ensemble.

“This is that club I’ve been telling you about, Uncle,” Lóa said. “They have the most ridiculous and adorable name…”

“It is not ridiculous,” Eerie said. “Just a little outdated.”

“Welcome to my home,” Gaul said, with an air of total indifference. “May I invite you inside?”

“This isn’t a social visit,” Emily said. “We have a question.”

Gaul looked back at Hope sharply, but she just shrugged.

“I had expected that you had come for my head,” Gaul said. “I admit that this is a surprise. I’m frankly intrigued. What is it that you want to ask?”

Emily nodded to Eerie, who took a deep breath and then stepped forward.

“You know a way to deal with the Church of Sleep,” Eerie proclaimed. “Not the one that I know already, either. A different one, that maybe only you know. I’m not sure about that last part, actually, but I’m pretty sure that the first part is true.”

“I don’t believe that I know anything you don’t about the Church,” Gaul said, the gentleness in his voice meriting a look of surprise from Lóa. “Isn’t that why you arranged this? Isn’t that what Mr. Warner was intended for from the start?”

“Not that way. The other way,” Eerie said, folding her arms. “The secret way that only you know. We’ve always gotten along, haven’t we? You were scary, but you were also nice. I cooperated with all your tests, didn’t I? Even though I knew what you were doing, I still did everything you asked me to, because you were nice. Can’t we get along still?”

Gaul adjusted his glasses.

Against every expectation, he laughed. It was a dry sound akin to the rustling of leaves, only just audible, but there it was. Lóa stared in amazement while their servants shifted uncomfortably.

“You have always been a favorite of mine, Eerie, so I don’t mind telling you,” Gaul said fondly. “I’m not certain that it is such a secret, however, and I doubt very much that I am the only one to whom the idea has occurred.”

Eerie gave him her best glare, which was entirely ineffectual, and waited.

“Mr. Warner and his unique abilities would still be crucial, of course,” Gaul said, giving him a nod of recognition that made Alex instantly nervous. “You intended him to take your place with the Church, I assume, but I believe that there might be another method. In your time in the Outer Dark, Eerie, you must have witnessed the reaction that occurs when Ether comes into direct contact with the Outer Dark.”

“Yes,” Eerie said. “It burns and becomes black mist.”

“This is all theoretical, but I’m relatively confident that, if the Church were to be somehow transported into the Ether, that would create a reaction dramatic enough to displace the Church,” Gaul explained, reverting to the voice he had used in the classroom. “It would badly disrupt the Ether, obviously, but it might be enough to temporarily delay the Church’s manifestation.”

Everyone stared. Gaul coughed apologetically.

“You want Alex to open a breach to the Ether big enough to swallow the Church,” Eerie said. “Wouldn’t that destroy Central?”

“I did say that it was dangerous, didn’t I? I have not been idly interfering in your plans, Eerie, I am attempting to prevent you from inviting disaster,” Gaul protested. “That said, despite my reservations, I think the reaction would be local. Central, or at least most of it, would survive.”

“You said temporary,” Emily said. “What sort of time would this buy us?”

“Long enough for your purposes,” Gaul replied. “A century or two, perhaps.”

“That won’t happen in vacuum,” Hayley said. “What will happen to the Ether, and Central, if that was done, Gaul? What would happen to the world?”

“They would all be impacted to various degrees. It is impossible to estimate the extent, but as I said, I think it might be survivable.” Gaul shrugged. “Not that I am suggesting you do it. Quite the opposite, you can expect my wholehearted opposition. I am merely answering a question.”

“How?” Eerie stepped forward, Alex grabbing her arm. “How do we do it?”

“It is not particularly complicated,” Gaul said. “You said it yourself – Mr. Warner would need to open a massive breach into the Ether, large enough to absorb the Church. The rest should take care of itself. Though I do think that the consequences for Alex would be dramatic. Assuming he survived the exertion, which is doubtful, such a usage of the Absolute Protocol would require a tremendous amount of sleep in compensation. It could be years before he woke again.” Gaul fixed Alex with his eyes, blue rimmed with pink. “It could be a number of years.”

“No way,” Eerie said quietly, allowing Alex to tug her back behind him. “Don’t say that.”

“I’m not worried about losing a little time,” Alex boasted, feeling a bit like a hollowed gourd. “I’ve done that already. Where does the Church show up, anyway?”

“It was meant to be in the Outer Dark, but it was displaced,” Emily said, shaking her head. “I’m sure you remember Marcus’s rose garden.”

“His absurd act of principal,” Gaul said, with a look of disgust. “An entirely pointless gesture.”

“I don’t know,” Emily said. “I thought the flowers were nice. Either way, my sources think it will manifest somewhere at the Academy.”

Eerie frowned and looked away.

“It’s the most important place to you, isn’t it?” Emily smiled at her. “That’s probably why.”

“Where, though?” Alex asked. “The Academy is big.”

“We won’t know until it happens,” Emily said. “Someone went and eliminated all the precognitives, except for our friend Chandi Tuesday. Didn’t they, Gaul dear?”

Gaul offered a weary glance in place of a glare, but Lóa looked angry enough for both.

“Is that it?” Hayley asked. “Did we cover everything?”

“That’s all I needed,” Eerie said, pulling at Alex’s arm. “Can we go now?”

“Not quite yet,” Alex said, standing firm. “We have one last piece of business.”

“Yeah,” Leigh said, bouncing from side to side like an impatient athlete waiting for a whistle. “Maybe you should wait outside, Eerie.”

The Changeling shook her head and tugged on Alex’s arm.

“I’d really rather not do this,” Emily said. “It won’t settle anything.”

“I don’t care,” Alex said, gently brushing off Eerie. “I still wanna do it.”

“I think I do, too,” Lóa said. “If I understand you correctly.”

“She can come with me,” Hope said, taking Eerie by the arm and ignoring her protests as she pulled her away from Alex. “I think it’s better that we don’t become involved, don’t you think?”

“Wait! I want to stay!” Eerie wailed. “Where are we going?”

Hope pulled Eerie past the amused Thule personnel, toward the steps of the manor.

“You better not pull any shit,” Alex warned, watching nervously. “If you do anything to her, I’ll…”

“Eerie will be just fine,” Hope assured him, adding an empath’s ingratiating smile. “I give you my word. We’ll just have a nice cup of tea and a chat while the rest of you have your little disagreement. Fair enough?”

“Do what you like, Hope,” Lóa said, shaking her head. “We’ll handle things here.”

Hope shut the door to the manor firmly.

“Now that that’s settled,” Emily said. “Do we really have to go through the motions?” She gave Gaul a look of disapproval. “You know as well as I do that this is pointless.”

There was a minor disturbance, as air was displaced by new mass, and then Egill Johannsson stood beside his family, looking flushed and a bit scruffy, as if he had just been in a scuffle.

“Hello, Uncle,” Egill said. “Lóa. I do hope I’m not late?”

“Not at all. Your timing is perfect,” Lóa said. “You were saying, Miss Muir?”

Alex concentrated, and whatever warmth had been in the air disappeared. He put one hand on Leigh’s shoulder, resting the other lightly on Emily’s forearm.

The Thule retainers went for their guns.

Leigh cracked her knuckles.

“Fuck it,” Alex said. “Let’s go.”

A circular barrier appeared about the Thule Cartel, characters of an unknown language spinning about them in a livid violet that made Alex’s eyes sting.

Hayley closed her eyes, and Alex felt his telepathic defenses bolster.

Leigh charged, bounding across the courtyard, her nails extruding into talons. A Thule gunman managed to get off a couple rounds from his pistol before she collided with him, sending the gun flying. A split-second later, his arm followed, severed at the shoulder.

“This isn’t right at all,” Emily said, turning about. “Is it?”

Alex wanted to ask what she meant, but he was already running for cover.

***

Eerie pressed against the window while Hope helped herself to tea and cookies, not at all interested in what was happening outside. She watched Alex dive out of the way of what looked at distance to be a school of shimmering minnows, but what she knew to be a cloud of tiny razors. He managed to get beneath the worst of it, but red blooms blossomed across the back of his shredded shirt.

Eerie whimpered and wished that she could do something, but her protocol had stopped working the moment she was pulled inside the house.

She thought that had something to do with the boy sitting at the end of the table, glancing at them occasionally during pauses in whatever mobile game he was playing obsessively.

Hope noticed the look.

“That’s Benji,” she said fondly, nodding at the boy. He was dusky, with close-cropped hair and a pleasant-enough face that frequently contorted with frustration as he played. “Benjamin Thule, the adopted son of Brennan. Only seven, but already a prodigy in protocol suppression. Isn’t that right, Benji?”

The boy did not look up or acknowledge her words in any way. Hope laughed and reached for the kettle.

Eerie turned back to the window. In time to see Alex scramble behind the dormant fountain, while Thule gunman peppered the stone around him with submachine gun fire.

She thought about trying for the door, glancing at the stern man and woman who stood on either side of it. She remembered the way the woman had shoved her, when she tried the last time, sending her to the floor and bruising her backside, and thought better of it.

“I tried to intercede on your behalf, you know,” Hope said, pouring a cup of tea for Eerie. “Back at the Academy. I was always appalled by the way you were treated.”

“That’s nice,” Eerie said. “It wasn’t so bad, I think. I liked the Academy.”

“You knew how it would work out, didn’t you?” Hope smiled. “That must be nice.”

“I didn’t know anything,” Eerie said, refusing Hope’s offer of a seat. “I’ve just done what I thought best.”

Through the window, Eerie watched while the Thule Cartel and Emily and her friends stared at each other in front of the manor.

No one moved, and no one seemed to speak. It was very strange.

Eerie stared at Lóa, fascinated by the glow emanating from just beneath the hardened tissue of her skull. The hue was a few shades brighter than the one that pulsed above Gaul’s spine.

Lóa Thule had received an implant, Eerie realized, and was using it to download protocols. She was probably interfering in the psychic battle, too.

They had prepared for Gaul alone.

Eerie felt a strange tingle down her back, her skin breaking out in goosebumps.

That had never happened. Not in any of her memories of the future.

“Are you still determined to stand with Emily Muir?” Hope asked. “The Thule Cartel is in much better position to protect you from the Church of Sleep, you understand. We could even protect your friend Alex, if you wanted us to.”

“Thanks for the offer,” Eerie said. “Me and my club will take care of it. It’s kind of our thing.”

“I respect your integrity, but I worry for your lack of self-regard,” Hope said. “There are dungeons beneath this place. A maze. I’ve been down there myself, in the dark, in the water. It’s a family tradition, apparently, and it changes you.” Hope glanced away modestly. “Trust me, you don’t want to end your life down there.”

“What will come will come,” Eerie said. “What do you want with me?”

“We want you to join us,” Hope said. “We want to help you. The Church is just as much our enemy as it is yours.”

“That’s nice of you.”

“Please, give it some thought. I hate to think what might happen to you, Eerie, left on your own with such powerful enemies.”

“I feel bad for you, too,” Eerie said. “I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“I appreciate the thought,” Hope said. “Though I doubt the necessity of it.”

“You aren’t a Thule. Couldn’t you just leave?”

“I certainly could,” Hope said, raising one heavily plucked eyebrow. “Why would I?”

“It isn’t safe.”

“Where is, these days?”

“Not like this,” Eerie said, lowering her voice. “Bad things happen here.”

“They do? Or they will?”

“Both,” Eerie said, turning her attention to the window. “You should go, Hope. You too, Benji.”

Outside the window, the bewildering impasse continued.

“You don’t understand,” Hope said. “I’ve bathed in the waters below this estate, Eerie, and I’ve seen the secrets they keep there. I’ve been changed.”

“I thought so,” Eerie said. “You have that look about you. Like Emily.”

“Oh, my!” Hope chuckled and poured herself more tea. “I do believe that’s meant to be a very big secret.”

I need to get out there, Eerie thought, looking again at the guards at the door. They need my help.

She turned back to the window, feeling helpless and ill.

Eerie squinted and caught her breath, pressing her forehead against the window.

There was someone else, outside. Someone that none of the rest of them could see, standing like uncanny statuary around the entrance to the manor.

“What is happening out there?”

“Nothing to worry over,” Hope said, beckoning to the Changeling. “Come, Eerie. We need to talk.”

Eerie shook her head. One of the guards took a step forward, and Hope stopped him with a glance. The guard returned to his position reluctantly, giving Eerie a look she did not like at all.

She turned her attention back to the window.

The person that no one could see had snuck up right behind Gaul Thule.

***

Alex waited until he heard the hammer fall on an empty chamber, and then he charged, activating his protocol as he ran. He opened a multitude of pinpoint breaches to the Ether, scattered about in the direction of the gunfire.

He ran toward the manor, tentatively optimistic that it had worked.

He made it halfway across the courtyard, and vaulted the dormant fountain, nearly losing his footing in the gravel on the other side.

He flinched at the sound of the gunshot, his hands going automatically to his torso.

It took him a moment to realize that he was fine.

Gaul Thule was slumped over, clutching his shoulder.

An unfamiliar young man with Black Sun face paint was somehow standing behind Gaul at point-blank range, a revolver in his hand. He continued to fire as he backed away, his shots going entirely wide.

“You’re in my head,” the Black Sun Operator observed, holstering his revolver. “I didn’t know that you could do that.”

Lóa grinned, leaning heavily on her remaining crutch.

“Daniel Gao, right? I’ve read about you,” Lóa said. “You did very well. I only noticed you at the very last moment.”

Gaul knelt nearby, looking groggy, blood trickling steadily from his wounded shoulder. Alex headed directly for him, the Absolute Protocol already spinning up in his head.

Leigh beat him there, or she would have. Egill batted the vampire aside at the last moment, her claws clattering across an invisible telekinetic wall that knocked her from her feet. Egill gestured with both hands before she could stand, and Leigh went flying, smashing through the estate wall and tearing a furrow through the muddy field outside. A flick of Egill’s hand toppled the wall onto her, burying Leigh in tons of stone.

Daniel lunged at Lóa, swinging his tomahawk at her head, but the axe burst into flames in his hand, and he cried out and dropped it. His armor and clothing began to smolder, and Daniel frantically tried to pull it all off before it ignited.

Hayley stumbled, her face turning pale as she reached for her throat. Lóa grinned as the Auditor dropped to her knees, her breath gurgling through a telekinetically obstructed throat.

Egill blinked into existence in front of Alex, so close that he nearly ran into him.

“Hello, Alex. That’s an impressive ability,” Egill said. “Mind if I borrow it?”

“Yes,” Alex said, backing away. “I do.”

“Too bad,” Egill said, grabbing for him.

Alex evaded his grasp and retreated, circling and hunting for an opening.

Lóa smirked at Hayley’s desperate writhing, and then turned her attention to Emily, who was watching the melee calmly with a smile on her face, as if the conversation had never ended.

“Your turn, Emily,” Lóa said. “I hate to see you standing around doing nothing while friends die.”

“I’ve been keeping quite busy, thank you very much,” Emily said. “I’m nearly finished now. This is all a bit of a bore, to be honest.”

Daniel burned.

Hayley suffocated.

Alex circled.

***

Eerie counted to five, and then stood and marched over to the door.

“I need to go outside,” Eerie said, planting her feet in front of the guards and balling her fists. “Please get out of my way.”

The guards exchanged a look. The male guard shrugged, and then the female guard grinned.

She stepped forward, and then drove her fist into Eerie’s stomach.

Eerie doubled over, holding her stomach and retching.

“There’s no need for that sort of thing,” Hope said, rising halfway from her chair. “Leave the girl be, won’t you?”

The woman seized Eerie by her hair. Eerie howled as she was dragged to her feet, still clutching her middle.

“I’m sorry, Miss Loring,” the male guard said laconically. “We have our orders, and you have no authority.”

“You aren’t going anywhere,” the other guard said, shaking Eerie’s head back and forth, pulling agonizingly on her hair. “You should have listened to Miss Loring when you had the chance.”

The woman grabbed Eerie’s shoulder and flipped the Changeling, smashing her into the floor. The Changeling rolled into a ball and wheezed, her eyes screwed shut and her face streaked with tears.

“You will not so much as look at the door,” the woman said, giving Eerie a kick to the small of the back. “Do you understand?”

Eerie gasped and sobbed on the floor.

The guard shared a grin with her coworker as she took her place beside the door.

“This is too cruel,” Hope said. “Please stop.”

“Your empathy won’t work as long as Benji is here, Miss Loring,” the guard replied. “Just stay quiet if you know what’s good for you.”

“The Thule Cartel is in a transitional phase,” Hope said, hurrying to the Changeling’s side. “It’s unfortunate, but temporary.” Hope bent to help the Changeling up from the floor. “Are you all right, Eerie? Come and sit down with me.”

“No!” Eerie brushed off Hope’s hands, still unable to stand up straight, one hand clamped over her belly, the other at the small of her back. “Alex needs me! I have to go!”

The guards let her run past them this time, but as Eerie took her first step into the hallway, the male guard seized her by her hair and pulled her back into the room, wrenching her neck violently.

“Now you’ve upset me,” the female guard said, grinning as she grabbed Eerie’s hand. “That was stupid of you.”

She twisted Eerie’s wrist, and then bent her fingers back until Eerie cried out and wept.

“Please stop this,” Hope pleaded. “Do you not realize I am attempting to recruit her for our cause?”

“I don’t care,” the guard said, twisting Eerie’s pinkie away from the rest of her fingers. “You’ll stay out of this if you know what’s good for you.”

The guard bent her pinkie until it snapped like a twig beneath the pressure. Eerie wailed and begged her to let go, while the other guard grinned and recorded the whole thing on his cell phone.

“They only told us not to kill you,” he said. “You understand?”

Eerie writhed in pain as the woman manipulated her broken finger. The man knelt beside the Changeling to capture her tearful, contorted face on video.

“Say you’re sorry for being bad,” he suggested. “Beg her to stop.”

“No!” Eerie shouted, her eyes shut tight. “Let me go!”

“Lord Thule promised that Eerie would be under his protection,” Hope said, her voice shaking. “He will not be pleased to find that his orders were disregarded, and his guest abused.”

The guard glanced up from his phone to smirk at Hope. He put his boot on the back of Eerie’s neck, forcing her head down and pushing her face into the floorboards.

“Egill said otherwise,” the woman guard said, finally releasing Eerie’s hand, which the Changeling promptly clutched to her chest. “Stay out of this. I’m not going to warn you again.”

The two guards exchanged a look. The woman rolled her eyes and laughed.

“All right, kid,” she said, touching the back of Benjamin’s chair. “You wait outside. Stay right outside the door. Keeping doing your thing and don’t go anywhere. This won’t take long.”

The boy rose and left obediently, not offering the young women as much as a look on his way out.

The guard shut the door to the hall behind him, and then latched it.

Eerie scrambled away until her back met the wall. Hope stood back from the table nervously.

The guards crowded the Changeling, who tried to press herself into the wall.

Eerie wiped the tears from her cheeks, and then looked at the guards with such undisguised loathing that the woman took a small step backward.

“I don’t have time for this,” Eerie said. “I wish you told me sooner. This could have been so much easier.”

There was a moment of silence, as the guards shared an uneasy look.

“They told us you were crazy,” the female guard said. “They never said anything about you being stupid, too.”

She reached for Eerie and stumbled. She grabbed for the table for balance and tripped over her own feet, crashing into the table and sending place settings flying. She crashed into the floorboards along with the cutlery, teacups and saucers shattering on impact.

The other guard took a step in her direction, his skin flushed strawberry red, and the bloody, bitten end of his tongue protruding from between his lips, foam leaking from the corners of his mouth and dribbling down his chin. He reached for the wall, swaying as if he were on high seas, or being buffeted by gale winds, and then he toppled.

Hope turned the same color of red as the guard, spending perhaps half a minute fighting to keep her eyes open, her neck slowly bending, as if yielding to a great weight. Her forehead finally reached the table, and then her eyes rolled back into her head, her mouth tumbling open, spit pooling on the tablecloth.

Eerie walked across the room, giving the dying guards a wide berth.

She touched Hope’s shoulder apologetically as she passed her, and the empath grabbed her arm.

They struggled and fell over, landing in a tangle among the broken crockery.

“Let me go, Eerie!” Hope struggled to free herself from the Changeling. “Don’t do this!”

“I have to,” Eerie said, tying the bigger woman up with her arms and legs to prevent her from standing. “I’m sorry! I was trying…”

“Eerie, why?” Hope tried to break Eerie’s grip, but her strength was quickly fading. Her skin was reddening, and hot wherever Eerie touched her. “Why are you—?”

“It’s not on purpose!” Eerie insisted, holding Hope down. “I tried to do it by contact, but they had gloves and it was taking too long and they were hurting me! You saw it! You saw what they were doing.”

Hope made no reply. The last of the fight went out of her all at once, her energy draining like the water from a bathtub. She rolled onto her back, and Eerie followed her, leaning on her shoulders in case she recovered enough to go for the window again.

“They were going to kill you no matter what,” Eerie insisted, as Hope fought for her breath. “You don’t mind, right? If it was going to happen anyway?”

Hope gurgled and shook, her fingers curling back to her palms and her eyelids fluttering.

“I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean for this to happen.” Eerie leaned back, no longer concerned that Hope might revive. “Empaths are always so difficult. I don’t mean to be judgmental, but it just isn’t nice, the way you manipulate people. I know I’m not one to talk, but I still think it’s true.”

Hope was the only one, aside from Eerie, that was still breathing, but the sound of her taxed respiration was wet and awful.

“You’d do the same in my position, wouldn’t you?” Eerie asked, wrapping her injured finger with a napkin. “I think it’s normal. You would do just about anything to avoid what’s happening right now, right? Joining the Church would be worse. So, so much worse. Just understand that I had to do it.”

Hope breathed once more, a long exhale that sounded like a sigh of exasperation, and then she went silent. Her chest tried to rise once or twice more, then she was still.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry! I just had to.” Eerie hugged her knees to her chest in the quiet room. “I don’t want to be selfish, but I want to stay myself, and I want to be with Alex, and to do club activities and stuff.”

She sniffled, and then wiped her nose on the tablecloth.

“I have friends now. Important friends, and I want to keep them safe.” She blew her nose noisily into the tablecloth. “I’m the president of a club! A club with other people! I’ve worked so hard. I just…it can’t end here. I can’t let that happen. I’m so sorry!”

Eerie stood and dusted herself off.

She patted Hope’s head, and then made for the door, stepping carefully over the guards’ bodies on the way.

“Alex needs my help. He’s not a bad guy or anything, but he gets in a lot of trouble,” Eerie said, pausing at the door, but not looking back. “I have to protect him. I can’t let anyone get in my way.”

She turned off the lights and reached to shut the door, only to have an unfamiliar girl catch her wrist with a smile.

Eerie meant to twist her arm free, but she froze when she saw who was standing beside the new arrival, grinning obscenely.

“Dear, dear,” Alistair said, glancing at the room and tutting. “You’ve done it again, haven’t you, Eerie? Just like before, with Steve and Charles, back at the Academy.”

“I didn’t do anything!” Eerie protested, trying to pull herself free of the girl’s grasp. “I need to go!”

“Calm down, Eerie. There’s no reason to be worried. My name is Gabby,” the girl said. “I’d like to talk and be friends, if that’s okay with you.”

“I can’t stay,” Eerie whimpered, trying to peel Gabriela’s fingers from her wrist. “Alex needs me!”

“It’s a shame that a promising recruit like Hope Loring had to die. It doesn’t look like she died a very nice death, does it?” Alistair gestured at the room. “What do you think might happen if everyone found about that? What if Alex were to find out? What do you think—?"

“Now, now. Let’s all be friends and not fight over silly things like a room full of people who obviously died at the hands of awful old Alistair here,” Gabriela said, keeping her hold on Eerie’s wrist, but modulating the grip to something more affectionate. “That’s a better way to look at things, isn’t it?”

Eerie studied them in turn, in evident confusion.

“Yes, that would be better,” Eerie said, trembling slightly. “But I don’t trust him, and I don’t like him.”

“There is no good reason for any young woman to put faith in him,” Gabriela said. “Alistair is a vile and indecent human being. Don’t worry, though, I won’t even let him talk to you. It’ll just be you and I. Girl-talk. It will be great! Please? You don’t mind, do you?”

Alistair leaned against the wall and watched with a grin.

“I don’t know,” Eerie said. “What do you want?”

“I want to take you on a little walk and show you something we keep downstairs, and also tell you a few things that you probably don’t know,” Gabriela said. “You can decide to do whatever you want. I won’t stop you, and I won’t let Alistair do anything. We will tell everyone that Alistair killed Hope and the guards, and no one will ever be the wiser.” She gave the Changeling’s hand an encouraging little shake. “That’s nice, isn’t it? Well? What do you say?”

Eerie glanced at Alistair, and then just as quickly looked away.

“I won’t go anywhere with him,” Eerie said. “He scares me.”

“He won’t be with us, because he has made a lot of promises, and he’ll be busy fulfilling them,” Gabriela said, looking at Alistair. “Won’t he?”

“I’m on my way to your uncle’s apport station right now, baby,” Alistair said, closing the door and heading for the stairs. “Don’t worry about the Black Sun one little bit. It’s all completely under control.”

Gabriela squeezed Eerie’s hand between her own.

“There. You see? You don’t need to worry about him.” Gabriela leaned close and lowered her voice. “Between you and me, Eerie, he’s fallen completely in love with me.”

“Oh, wow,” Eerie said breathlessly. “Congratulations, I guess?”

“It’s a mixed bag,” Gabriela said. “He’s old and gross.”

“And mean.”

Gabriela took the Changeling’s arm, leading her down the hall.

“That’s the thing, though – he’s never mean to me. Not at all. He’s like a big dumb dog, obedient and eager to please.”

“Huh. Do you like him?”

“I might like what he can do for me. The rest, I’m told, can be learned.” Gabriela led Eerie gently toward the stairs. “Do you have a boyfriend, Eerie?”

“I do,” Eerie said, blushing. “Alex is outside right now. I should really check on him.”

“He’ll be just fine. No one is going to get hurt, because my uncle won’t let anyone fight for real,” Gabriela said, sounding as if she meant it. “I’ve never had a boyfriend, you know. Just a fiancé or two.”

“A fiancé? Wow! That sounds classy.”

“You have friends, though, right? And a school club? I heard something about that…”

“Yes, it’s…” Eerie sighed. “It’s pretty cool, actually.”

“I’ve never had any friends, and I’ve never been a member of a club,” Gabriela said. “Thule children are raised in isolation and kept away from Central and the Academy. Do you think we could be friends?”

“I don’t know,” Eerie said. “I don’t really know you, and I don’t really like the people you hang out with.”

“I think I can change your mind,” Gabriela said. “This place is kind of a dump, isn’t it? It’s not that great, really, but you really must see what we keep in the basement.”

***

The air around Lóa was charged, a strange glow clinging to the tips of her fingers and her skin emitting a faint scent of combustion. Egill’s hands crackled with trapped lightning, while Gaul watched with lowered eyes.

Emily smiled as her friends died around her, variously burning and suffocating.

“This is a farce,” Emily declared. “Shall we put it to end?”

***

There were three guns on Alistair the moment he appeared on the platform of the Black Sun fixed apport station in downtown Central.

“Hey, calm down,” Alistair said, woozy from the apport. “I’m not here to fight. I’m here to talk to your boss.”

The Black Sun security personnel started shooting anyway, of course, but it was a simple thing to make them miss.

The guards had defenses implanted by Black Sun telepaths, not to mention anti-psychic combat training, but standard issue countermeasures were simply not up to Alistair’s level. He had bypassed their shields before they could pull their sidearms from their holsters.

Alistair hopped casually off the platform as bullets sailed harmlessly past him.

He grabbed the nearest technician by his collar and smacked the gun from the man’s hands. He lifted him off the ground with the telekinetic strength that he had downloaded from the servers of the diminished Network.

“I said that I was here to talk with Anastasia,” he said, tossing the technician into another nearby. “Go get her.”

The last of the technicians glanced at the pile of his comrades, then at his empty pistol, then back at Alistair, unharmed and looking impatient.

He nodded and ran out of the room.

Alistair settled in a chair beside the metal platform to wait.

It took a few minutes, though she must have heard of his arrival only seconds after it happened. It was a formality, a way of reminding him of the difference between their places in the world, and Alistair knew that it was meant to bother him.

He did his best not to let it work, or if it did, to not show it to the cameras and remote viewers that were no doubt trained firmly on him.

The door opened, and a well-dressed man a full head taller than him offered Alistair an expression that was not precisely a grin, but a close analogue, and gestured for him to come.

“The Mistress will see you,” the man said, his Mandarin-accented English crisp and perfect. “Please come with me.”

Alistair followed him obediently through the hallways of the Black Sun facility in Central, glancing with undisguised interest at every room and corridor that they passed along the way. It wasn’t every day that he got to visit a secret Cartel base, an unlikely event in his capacity either as Chief Auditor or the worst of the Anathema.

To his disappointment, care was taken to make sure that he saw nothing of interest.

Alistair glanced at his guide, whose expression remained exactly as it was during his greeting.

The cut of his pinstriped suit was sharp and flattering, and Alistair nearly asked him for his tailor. His hair was cut neat and conservatively styled, but his watch and cufflinks advertised money and taste, and his Italian loafers were hand tooled.

“A vampire, huh?” Alistair gave him a speculative look. “You’ve got to be Lord Gao, right?”

“As you say,” Lord Gao said. “A pleasure to meet you, sir.”

“There’s no need to pretend,” Alistair said. “I’ve heard about you.”

Lord Gao chuckled deep in the back of his throat.

“As I have heard of you.”

Alistair grinned and left it at that.

The facility was not large. A short elevator ride brought them to the high-rent district, where the walls were lined with exotic wood fixtures and tasteful abstract art. The vampire led him past a pair of security checkpoints to Anastasia’s office, which had been done in an understated and elegant Japanese style that Alistair knew required a ridiculous degree of investment to achieve.

Anastasia sat behind a desk of solid tiger-maple on what must have been an elevated chair, flanked by a maid wearing glasses. The sheer amount of telepathic suppression active in the room made Alistair’s nose tingle and his head throb. He was guided by the vampire into the sole unoccupied chair. The vampire closed the door behind them, and then took a position directly behind Alistair.

In the absence of his telepathically augmented sensorium, Alistair was distractingly aware of the vampire’s presence, which raised the hackles on his neck and constantly tempted him to turn around and check.

He did not do that, of course.

He sat in front of Anastasia and he smiled confidently.

“I bet you were secretly happy to have to break out that veil,” he observed cheerfully, gesturing at the lace covering that obscured her face. “It’s too perfect for your style, don’t you think?”

“Why are you here?”

Anastasia’s voice was cold, her posture and body language hinting very strongly that he was not welcome here, and that lack of welcome could imperil him, if he said the wrong thing.

“No formal greeting? No jokes or anything? That’s not very nice,” Alistair said, smirking. “It’s okay, though. You’re a busy lady these days, and I’m in a hurry myself. You see, I’ve just come from the Thule estate in Iceland.”

He noticed Anastasia shift just slightly in her chair, and he laughed.

“That got your attention, didn’t it? You didn’t have much luck going after them here in Central, or so I hear, and now you’re probably stuck waiting around for the technicians to figure out how to get you close to the Thule estate, because they’d obviously just blow you out of the sky if you tried to take a flight or something. That’s got to be an annoyance. I’d imagine you’re real eager to get a shot at Gaul and his family. I can make that happen.”

Anastasia clicked her tongue.

“We do not require your assistance,” she said coldly. “We will do what we will by our own strength.”

“That’s fine with me,” Alistair said. “I hope you like waiting. I know you’ve got technicians, and your own apport platform, but that doesn’t help you if their station won’t accept transmission. Of course, those technicians probably already told you that I came here from that very station.” Alistair smirked at the Mistress of the Black Sun. “I’ve got tomorrow’s access codes and overrides, and I’m in a sharing mood.”

Anastasia planted her chin on her fist, her elbow resting on the desk.

“What is it that you would want in return for this assistance?”

“The same thing that you want. A bunch of dead Thule Cartel members,” Alistair said casually. “Also, I’ll want you to attend the wedding in your fanciest fancy dress. That’ll get everyone’s attention. I’m sure Gabby will like that.”

“What wedding are you referring to? I’m afraid you have lost me.”

“I doubt that very much, and I should add that timing is crucial. You are not the only one with an interest in Thule just lately,” Alistair said. “I have another errand to complete tonight. What will it be, Lady Martynova? The codes activate at dawn. They’ll be wide open. Are you interested?”

“As little as I like it, I will accept your offer,” Anastasia said. “We are not allies, however. This is a relationship of convenience, and nothing more.”

“Fine, fine,” Alistair said, chuckling. “The invitation is plus one, of course. I suppose that your guest is still to be determined. Then again, you never know. Tomorrow morning might clear that up.”

***

Emily turned her attention to a small balcony situated above the adjacent garage.

“There you are.” Emily smiled at the empty balcony. “Isn’t it time that we put an end to this, Mr. Navarre?”

The scene reset.

The Thule Cartel was assembled on the steps to the entirely intact manor.

Leigh, Hayley, and Alex stood in the center of the courtyard, winded, but otherwise fine.

Daniel was face down on the courtyard, unconscious and snoring.

Mateo Navarre stood on the balcony, his dress shirt damp with sweat and his hair slicked back. He smiled modestly and offered Emily a polite bow.

“Not too bad, Miss Muir,” he said. “That was faster than expected. Of course, I had considerable assistance with this production.”

“That’s what gave it away,” Emily said, glancing at the battered assemblage of the Thule family members. “I could tell that Gaul and Lóa were collaborating with an outside party. You were the most logical suspect.”

“That’s alarming,” Mateo said. “No illusionist wishes to become predictable.”

“Don’t take it the wrong way. You’ve impressed me,” Emily said. “Have you ever considered changing sides?”

To Alex’s befuddlement, he appeared to take some time thinking it over, even though his current employers were watching him as he did so.

“I had not previously considered the possibility,” he admitted. “I’m content for the moment, but I won’t forget your offer, Miss Muir.”

“Do keep me in mind. If you join quickly enough, I might even be able to negotiate with Anastasia Martynova for your life,” Emily said sweetly, gesturing at the sleeping Daniel. “This Black Sun assassin will hardly be the first that they send after your employers. Do not make the mistake of assuming they will deal any more gently with you.”

“Hey, I’m not dead,” Alex said, rubbing his face. “Cool! Where is Eerie?”

“She’s fine. I’m keeping track of her,” Emily said, glancing at him. “Eerie is with Lóa’s little sister, who is trying very hard to turn Eerie to the dark side.”

“That doesn’t sound okay,” Alex said. “Does it?”

“I was not aware I had joined the dark side,” Mateo said. “Does that make you people the light?”

“I consider my position one of enlightened self-interest,” Emily said. “In a word, yes.”

“Eerie is with Gabriela, my youngest niece, who has been instructed to share with her any details that I might have omitted. She will return to you shortly,” Gaul Thule said wearily. “You may use our apport station, if it will accelerate your departure.”

“What about him?” Emily pointed at Daniel. “What will you do with him?”

“We will kill him, obviously,” Lóa said. “He’s an assassin.”

“I’ve developed a sympathy for assassins, just lately,” Emily said. “Will you do me a favor, Lord Thule?”

“If you promise to stay out of our affairs in the future,” Gaul said warily. “What do you want?”

“Send Daniel Gao back to his Mistress,” Emily said. “Consider it a gesture of goodwill. Who knows how she will react?”

“Very well,” Gaul said, silencing Lóa’s protests with a glance. “May I consider our business concluded?”

“No,” Alex said, stepping forward. “We aren’t done with you, asshole.”

“We are, actually,” Emily said. “That was really everything.”

“Oh. Well, uh, good,” Alex said. “We just wait for Eerie here, then, or what?”

***

Gabriela pulled and begged and cajoled Eerie into the basement below the Thule manor. The Changeling followed reluctantly, casting glances over her shoulder and looking very worried. She watched Gabriela tug open a trap door with a sense of muted unease that made her shift from foot to foot and wish vaguely for a bathroom.

She followed the Thule girl down the stairs like that, vacillating from genuine worry to empathically induced calm with each step.

The darkness was total outside the radius of the lamp that Gabriela held aloft.

They descended until Eerie’s calves ached, and then a little further.

There was another trap door, open so that Eerie could see the flooded chamber below.

“The Thule inheritance,” Gabriela said proudly, crouching to dangle the lamp down into the dungeon. “Our greatest secret.”

“This is what you wanted me to see?” Eerie glanced down doubtfully. “I don’t want to get my clothes wet.”

“They won’t get wet. You have to take them off.”

“I don’t want to!” Eerie backed away. “I barely know you!”

“That’s not what I’m – here, let’s start over. Do you know what this place is, Eerie?”

“I know that you are weird,” Eerie whispered. “You and your cousin and your uncle and—”

“Yes, precisely,” Gabriela interjected. “This is how we become ourselves. We are confined down there, left in the dark until we drink the waters, which are adulterated with tailored nanites and a peculiar toxin derived from a mushroom unique to this locale—”

“That’s not actually true,” Eerie said. “That last part.”

“Which part?”

“The toxin. It isn’t from mushrooms or anything,” Eerie said, frowning a little. “It’s from me.”

“From you? I don’t understand.”

“It makes you hallucinate, right? And get really sick?”

“Yes. The first, really, more than the other, at least in my case.”

“Then you were lucky,” Eerie said gravely. “It’s not literally from me. That would be gross. He makes it in a lab, but he took the original samples from me.”

“Who?” Gabriela held up the lamp so she could see Eerie’s face. “Who are you talking about?”

“Your uncle. Gaul,” Eerie said. “Obviously.”

“There is simply no way,” Gabriela said. “These catacombs go back centuries…”

“Much longer than that. It wasn’t always flooded. No poison or nanites, either. That’s all new. It used to be place for dead people, for thinking about them. That’s all it was. Everything else is new. I know all about it.”

“Do you really?” Gabriela beckoned her close to the opening. “I think I know something about it that you do not, Eerie.”

“Yeah? What’s that?”

“It really is a crypt, but I’m not sure that it was built for dead people. Or even the living, come to think about it. Considering how old it is, I suppose that it was built for people who hadn’t even lived yet.”

“I don’t get it.”

“There are vaults down there, Eerie,” Gabriela said, flushed and clinging to the Changeling’s arm. “There are so many vaults.”

“So?”

“They have names on them. Not just Thule names, or our ancestors, or even Icelandic names,” Gabriela said. “All sorts of names, some of which have only just started to make sense to me.”

Eerie frowned again.

“You know what I’m going to say already, don’t you?” Gabriela’s voice was a bit shrill with enthusiasm that Eerie did not share. “Your name is down there. Your real name, Ériu.”

Eerie looked down at the darkness below the manor.

“Those vaults can do things, if you…I’m not really sure how to describe it. I think it’s a syncing process, or a form of imprinting. I’ve seen it work miracles. Actual miracles! Just the other day, in fact.”

“Why should it matter to me?”

“You still don’t get it? Immersing yourself in these waters changes you, Eerie. I think that might even take you beyond the reach of whatever it is you are afraid of. I’ve heard my uncle claim it alters DNA as well as the Etheric Signature. That’s basically everything, don’t you think? You’d be a completely different person.”

Eerie took a step closer to the trap door.

“Now you’re getting it. You said you came here looking for a way out, right? This is it,” Gabriela said, crouching beside the trap door so her lantern could shine down on the water. “It’s like being reborn. Our vault could change you enough that that old church wouldn’t want you anymore! Think about it. Nobody else would have to die. No more war and fighting. Tempting, isn’t it?”

Eerie put her hands on Gabriela’s shoulders for balance, peering over the girl and into the dark below.

“You could stay in Central with your boyfriend,” Gabriela suggested. “That’s what you want, isn’t it?”

“It is,” Eerie agreed solemnly. “That’s super important to me.”

“Isn’t it worth trying, then?”

“I’ll do anything to stay,” Eerie said. “Really. Anything.”

She pushed Gabriela through the open trap door.

Gabriela did not have time for a scream, just a shocked inhale followed by a loud splash. Eerie shut the door behind her before she returned to the surface to sputter and protest.

“Eerie, don’t do this!” Gabriela shouted. “I’m trying to help!”

The Changeling locked the door, scooped up the lamp, and made for the stairs.

Twenty-Eight

Day Six

“Tomorrow, then, huh?”

She settled her head in the crook of his arm, cerulean hair spreading across the pillow.

“Yes,” she said, touching him. “Tomorrow.”

“Emily said Marcus will come get us in the morning.”

“Mhm.”

“I don’t really understand why that guy is helping us,” Alex chattered nervously. “What does he have to do with anything?”

“People just really like Emily.”

“I guess.”

“Are you worried?”

“Yeah. Of course. Who wouldn’t be?”

“I don’t know.”

“You got hurt today,” Alex said, his expression tightening. “I’m trying not to be upset about that, but…”

“It’s fine,” Eerie said. “I’m fine.”

“It made it real for me, you know? That I could lose you,” Alex said, putting his hand on her stomach, careful to avoid her bruises. “That scares me.”

“You could,” Eerie agreed. “I could lose you.”

“Do you know if we…will we be okay?”

“It isn’t like that,” Eerie said, sighing. “I can’t explain. I’m there, and I’m here, too. It’s…it’s always, and there’s no before or after or…I don’t know how to say it.”

“I just wondered if there was anything you could tell me.”

“What do you mean?”

“Anything important. Anything you know that might help.”

Eerie thought it over while he stroked her hair.

“I love you,” she said. “Please be very careful.”

“I get that,” Alex said impatiently. “I meant anything important.”

“That is the most important thing.”

He kissed her forehead.

“Right,” he said. “Sorry.”

“Is that all you are worried about?”

“What do you mean?”

“Do you have any questions for me? About what happened to Hope, maybe?”

Alex took her hand, lightly brushing her splinted little finger.

“Not unless you want to tell me,” he said. “I would have killed every single person in that room myself.”

She gripped his hand with her good fingers.

“I don’t like that,” she said. “I don’t like it when you talk about killing people.”

“Sorry. It’s true, though.”

“Maybe, but that doesn’t mean I have to like it.”

“Yeah.”

The silence that followed was so protracted that Alex started to suspect she had fallen asleep.

“Hey, Eerie? You still awake?”

“Yes. I’m always awake when you are. I wouldn’t miss it.”

“Huh. Really?”

“Yes. What did you want?”

“Well, it’s just…ah, you know. It’s our last night, before…I mean, I’m not going to lose you or anything, for sure, that’s not going to happen, but tomorrow is going to be crazy, and I was just wondering if you wanted—”

“Yes,” Eerie said, pulling him close. “Of course I do.”

***

Vivik snuck a glance at Leigh out of the corner of his eye. She was sitting on the other side of his bed, naked aside from a pair of socks, fiddling with her phone.

“I thought you said you needed a minute,” Leigh said.

“I do,” Vivik said. “It’s just…”

Leigh gave him a quick look, then returned to her phone.

“Yes?”

“You are going back in the field tomorrow, aren’t you?”

“You know I am,” Leigh said. “You’re still doing remote viewing on the Op, aren’t you?”

“Yes, I mean…of course. I…I saw the notes Chandi produced for Emily.”

“Sure. You’re the intel guy, so that makes sense. Oh, yeah, I meant to ask. You know Hope Loring? The empath? Thule recruit?”

Vivik nodded.

“Did you see her die?”

The casual question took his breath away, but Leigh did not seem to notice, occupied with whatever she was doing on her phone.

“Yes.”

“I heard Alistair did it.”

“Did you?”

“I knew it,” Leigh said, putting her phone aside. “The whole thing was just so weird. What really happened?”

“I’m not supposed to say,” Vivik said. “Emily made me promise.”

“I’m naked in your bed,” Leigh countered. “Does what she wants still come first?”

Vivik realized he was staring at her, and then looked away.

“You’re not entirely naked,” he joked nervously. “Why are you still wearing socks?”

“My feet are cold. Why the hell did you put your boxers back on?” Leigh rolled her eyes. “Are you going to tell me, or what?”

“Eerie did it,” Vivik blurted out, his lips suddenly numb. “The guards hurt her, and then she just…killed everyone. Poisoned them with toxic pheromones, I think.”

“I did wonder when I saw how beat up she was,” Leigh said. “I didn’t know she could do stuff like that. Good to know, just in case.”

Vivik decided not to follow up on that.

“About tomorrow,” Vivik said. “I’m worried about you.”

“I thought we agreed we weren’t going to do that sort of thing,” Leigh said, picking her phone back up. “It’s dull.”

“Sorry.”

“Besides, if you are going to worry about anyone, worry about your friend Alex.”

“Alex? Why?”

“He’s sleeping with the Changeling, isn’t he? The same girl who murders people just by being in the same room.”

Vivik nodded, his mouth dry and his tongue sticking to the roof of his mouth.

“He’s fucking a monster,” Leigh said coolly. “She may as well be an alien. You can’t have a relationship with something like that and not expect consequences. She’s going to poison him, or drive him crazy, or kill him, or something. Mark my words. Sleep with something like that, you can expect your life to be ruined.”

Vivik licked his tingling lips.

“Is that…uh…are you trying to tell me something with this?”

“Not at all,” the vampire said, giving him a blank look. “What do you mean?”

***

His knock was a formality, as he let himself in before the maid could even reach for the door.

Anastasia glanced at him briefly, and nodded to the scandalized maid, who hurriedly left the room. The maid would head directly for Mai’s room, Anastasia had no doubt.

As she did not doubt that he had timed his arrival to coincide with Mai’s absence.

“I’ve told you a hundred times,” Anastasia said. “You are not welcome in my bedroom, Renton, and certainly not without an invitation.”

“Sorry, Ana,” he said, with a smile that made it clear he was not. “I had to talk with you.”

Was he tipsy, she wondered?

She was never sure, with him, when he was flushed with drink, or with simple cruelty.

“Did you? It had better be truly necessary.”

“It is,” he said, taking a step toward her. She sat beside the mirror, wearing her nightdress with her hair down, but she kept a stern expression. “If I don’t get to see you in your pajamas occasionally, I might wither away and die.”

“Then I suggest that you do so immediately,” Anastasia said acidly. “Preferably somewhere else.”

“You see? That’s the trouble. You’re even cuter when you angry, Ana.”

“Do you have anything pertinent to say, Renton? If not, I’ll ask you to excuse yourself.”

“I do, I do,” Renton said, lowering his voice and stepping even closer, his bright eyes daring her to complain. “I know you’re hurting, Ana…”

“Don’t patronize me!”

“I’m not. I just know this isn’t you. What happened to all your plans? We’ve been working on this for years. What are you doing?”

“My duty,” Anastasia said. “Nothing more, and nothing…”

“This isn’t it,” Renton said. “You’re making a mistake. Gaul Thule is baiting you. We’ve been taking over Central slow and steady, and we’ve made good progress. If you attack Thule directly, that all goes out the window.”

“Do you really think so?”

“I worry about it, I can tell you that much,” Renton said. “This isn’t like you, all this anger and passion. You aren’t thinking clearly.”

“That is an amusing observation, coming from you.”

“I’m not supposed to think, Ana. You’re supposed to be the smart one.”

“A fascinating observation. Do you have any more?”

“I do,” Renton said. “You can’t use that vampire as your bodyguard.”

“And why is that?”

“It isn’t safe,” Renton insisted. “Bad enough that you chose his daughter for your head maid, but now her brother is running around, playing suitor…”

“Do you have an issue with my father’s service to our Mistress, Mr. Hall?” Mai marched stiffly into the bedroom, glaring furiously at Renton and ignoring Anastasia’s look of disapproval. “With my brother’s, perhaps? Or is it my own duties that you object to?”

A current ran between them briefly, as the two telepaths tested each other.

“If you have an issue to resolve, then do so elsewhere,” Anastasia said. “I have had quite enough of both of you for the evening. Mai, please have Thiri sent in to finish my hair, would you? And you, Renton – find something useful to do, won’t you?”

“Of course, Mistress,” Mai said, grabbing Renton by the arm and pulling him to the door. “Right away.”

“Oh, come on!” Renton protested. “Ana, please! I have important things to tell you! Tell her to let me stay.”

“The head of Lord Thule is the price for consideration for entry to my bedroom,” Anastasia said, glaring at him in the mirror as he was dragged from the room. “If you have too much time on your hands, Renton, then why don’t you do something about that?”

***

Katya spent hours staring at the end of her wrist, flexing muscles in her forearm and feeling the absence of response beyond. Her severed hand never stopped complaining. Her fingers curled painfully inward, until the nails dug into the soft skin, cutting half-moons into an invisible palm that her mind insisted was still there, to itch and throb and ache.

It was maddening, and while her training helped her bear it with a degree of stoicism, the litany of phantom sensation was still only just bearable.

She almost had it under control when she shifted in bed, and something strange in the way the sheets moved reminded her of her leg. The diminished limb started to complain as soon as she remembered it.

The internal world of her suffering was so consuming that Katya did not notice the man sitting patiently in one of the chairs at the end of the room for quite some time.

It took a moment longer for her to recognize him.

“You’re Emily’s friend,” Katya said slowly. “Marcus. Right?”

“Yes,” he said, grinning. “That’s me.”

“What are you doing here?”

“I’ve come to see you,” he said, running a hand through his grey hair. “As a favor to our mutual friend, Emily Muir.”

“Even you, huh? I’m impressed. Everyone owes Emily something, don’t they?”

“She’s a good friend to have,” Marcus said. “It’s only natural to want to help a friend.”

“I think I might be done doing favors,” Katya said, holding up her abbreviated arm. “In fact, I think I’m retired.”

“If that’s the way you feel, I’ll respect it,” Marcus said. “This isn’t a personal errand. Emily told me that you would say that, though, and she told me to tell you something, when you did.”

“Sure,” Katya said. “What is it?”

“She told me that Alex would need you.”

“I’m not sure I needed to be told that.”

Katya pulled aside the bedsheet, exposing the bandaged terminus of her maimed leg.

“I can’t do it,” she said. “I can’t even fucking walk.”

“You’ve had it rough,” Marcus said. “I’ve heard about your brother. I’m sorry.”

“Yeah,” Katya said, looking away. “Yeah.”

“I don’t know if you want my advice, miss, but here it is all the same. Don’t do it.” Marcus gave her a grave look. “I’ve met Alex, and I’m confident he ain’t worth a damn.”

Katya laughed.

“You’ve got that right.”

“As for your brother, well, the dead don’t need to be avenged,” he said. “The dead don’t need anything from us. We need things from the dead, and they can’t provide them, and that’s why it hurts so much. But it’s a one-way street. There’s nothing you can do for him.”

Katya nodded, biting her lip.

“You seem like a smart guy.”

“I like to think so, but I’d imagine most people do.”

“How old are you, Marcus? Forgive me for saying it, but you seem like you are a million years old.”

“I’m not entirely sure. I could tell you that I remember the last time the Church of Sleep paid a visit. Or, you could say that I don’t remember.”

“If you’ve been alive that long, you must have had to reinvent yourself, right?”

“Times change,” Marcus said. “You have to change with them to survive. That’s universal.”

“It’s not, though,” Katya said. “You can always die.”

“Yes.”

“That’s always on the table,” Katya said. “I’ve seen it a lot. Almost everyone I’ve ever known…yeah. I want Timor back, Marcus. I want him back more than anything.”

He nodded sympathetically, and she started to cry, pitiful and broken down.

“I have no idea why I’m saying any of this,” Katya said. “I feel weird. You aren’t an empath, are you, old man?”

“I’m neither telepath nor empath,” Marcus said. “I’m nothing, by choice. I go where I like, but that’s just a trick that anyone could do. I garden, mostly, and that’s about all there is to say about me.”

“You grow roses,” Katya remembered. “A garden in the Outer Dark.”

“It’s a protest,” Marcus said. “My gardening is strictly political.”

“What sort of politics?”

“Beauty versus atrocity. I’m contaminating the pure, undiluted horror of the Outer Dark with blossoms and perfume.”

“Roses, huh?” Katya grinned through her tears. “Kinda bougie.”

“I can’t help but love the way roses need me. It’s intoxicating, to have something require you to the extent that it literally could not live without your constant attention. You have value as a gardener to roses. They know their survival is not incidental, and they do their best to show off for you.”

“I’ll have to take your word for it. I’ve never been a necessary girl.”

“I’m not sure that I agree,” Marcus said. “Emily wants you for something, right?”

“A real smart guy,” Katya said. “It occurs to me that Emily probably sent you because you would say what I needed hear.”

“I’m just talking. I’ve spent a lot of time alone with a bunch of roses, so I might run on a little. Take from it what you want to take.”

Katya looked around the hospital room and sighed deeply.

“You want me to come with you?”

“Emily has a plan for me, and a plan for you. I don’t recommend it, like I said, but I’m willing to take you where she wants you to go, assuming that’s what you want to do. If not, I’ve got nothing till the morning, so I might go get a cup of coffee. There’s a place I like in L.A., never closes. The coffee is terrible, but it’s been in a hundred movies. We could get a cup of coffee. You can always just stay here, too, if you aren’t feeling up for it.”

“If you don’t like it, then why are you helping Emily?”

“I’m fond of Emily. She’s a bit of a project of mine, and I admire her ambition and ability. I take pride in her successes, because I flatter myself into thinking that I might be a little of the foundation she built on, you see. So, I’m happy to help out here and there.”

“What about your garden?”

“My garden doesn’t need me anymore,” Marcus said. “Every garden has a beginning and an end, and mine is fast approaching. That was the design of the whole thing, you see. That’s the coda of the protest.”

“What’s that? The ‘Triumph of the Outer Dark’, or something?”

“Maybe. Who knows? I can only do my part and then wait around and see how it all comes out.” Marcus extended his hand to her. “What about you, Miss? What do you want to do?”

***

Rebecca stood with her arms folded and her brows furrowed, the corners of her mouth tugged firmly downward. Emily smiled at her from behind her desk.

“This office situation is fucked up,” Rebecca complained. “I can’t deal with you having an office when I don’t.”

“In two or three days at the most I will be in a position to help you retake the Academy. Or our little endeavor will fail, and we will all die, which will resolve the office issue just as satisfactorily from your vantage. Either way, I require just a small amount of patience from you.”

Rebecca glared at Emily.

“I hate dealing with other empaths,” she said. “You’re impossible.”

“It’s not my preference, either,” Emily agreed. “I will be as glad to see you gone as you will be to leave.”

“You keep looking just above my head,” Rebecca said. “Why is that?”

“No particular reason,” Emily said. “Is there more I can help you with, Ms. Levy?”

“Yeah, there is,” Rebecca said. “You can explain what it is you’re doing tomorrow that has everyone so freaked out.”

“There is a fair bit of agitation just lately, isn’t there?”

“Yeah. What gives?”

“I suppose there’s no harm in telling you,” Emily said. “The Church of Sleep will manifest tomorrow in Central, inconveniently early in the morning.”

“You’re kidding.”

Emily shook her head.

“You’re…not kidding? Why in the hell would you not inform the Auditors of this? How are we supposed to stop it when it’s coming in a matter of hours?”

“That’s just it, Ms. Levy. We don’t want to stop it,” Emily said. “Originally that was the plan, but just lately, we’ve decided to change courses and destroy it when it arrives instead.” Emily smiled at Rebecca’s horrified look. “Doesn’t that sound exciting?”

“You’ve lost your mind,” Rebecca said. “You can’t possibly intend to—”

“I’d like to remind you that I’ve already taken the Far Shores, destroyed a World Tree, and one more little surprise I don’t think you even know about yet,” Emily said. “If I say I’m going to do it, doesn’t it seem safe to assume that I’ll do just that?”

***

Grigori borrowed a laptop from one of the technicians, and after a brief struggle with a torrent client, settled for streaming a movie that seemed to involve Nicolas Cage slaughtering a cult with a crossbow.

It was surprisingly good, and he wished immediately that he had someone to discuss it with.

He felt vaguely frustrated, sitting in his boxer shorts in his hot and spare dorm room, the last light dying as the screen shut off to save power.

***

They were nearly alone in the cafeteria, a mediocre frozen dinner steaming from the microwave on his plate, while she had a selection of gummi bears and Skittles, and a small bowl of whipped cream.

“I’m starting to feel like it’s going to be okay,” Alex said, cutting into the dry chicken breast. “This is gonna work, tomorrow. I’m sure I can do this.”

“Really?” Eerie looked at him curiously, a bit of whipped cream on her nose. “Why are you so sure?”

“Gaul was always super smart, right? He was the Director, and he seemed to know everything.” Alex put a fork full of chicken in his mouth, his jaw bulging with effort as he chewed. “If he says that I can destroy the Church, then I’m sure I can.”

Eerie glanced up from her ongoing project of sorting the Skittles and candy bears. She had eaten all the greens and half the reds, but thus far had left the other colors untouched.

“I think you can do it, too,” Eerie said. “I’m just afraid of what it might do to you.”

“How bad it could be?” Alex said, trying on a confident grin. “I’ll sleep for a little while, maybe. That’s happened before. It’ll be fine.”

“I don’t know. This will be hard. Much, much harder than anything you’ve done with your protocol before.”

“There’s a first time for everything. I’ll figure it out.”

“That’s not what I’m worried about,” Eerie fretted. “I’m worried about whether you’ll live, and if you do, how long you’ll be asleep.”

“You must have some clue, right?” Alex’s grin faltered. “An estimate?”

Eerie shook her head.

Alex set aside his fork, and then pushed aside his plate.

“Give me a ballpark number,” Alex said urgently. “Just an idea.”

Eerie shook her head more violently.

“Are we talking weeks?”

Eerie looked away.

“Months?”

Alex saw her stiffen and her hand tremble, and his suppressed despair poured out of him, spewing from his heart like an oil strike in an old cartoon.

“You can’t mean…years? Eerie?”

She grabbed his hand.

“Alex!”

“Years?” He reached for his glass, and his numb fingers knocked it over, spilling bright orange sports drink across the table. “Like, one year, or—?”

“That’s not it,” Eerie said, tugging on his hand. “Look!”

She pointed, and Alex looked.

“Oh shit,” he breathed. “Come on! We gotta go.”

He was just out of his seat when Rebecca Levy smacked her hand down on the table, making the dishes clatter and scattering Eerie’s carefully organized candy.

“Sit the fuck down,” Rebecca ordered. “Both of you.”

Alex sat down immediately, moving so fast that the impact against the seat hurt. Eerie looked horrified, and when he grabbed her hand beneath the table, her fingers were shaking.

“I have a million things that I am supposed to be doing, and probably a lot more that I should be doing,” Rebecca said, sitting down across from them. “Imagine how happy it makes me to be forced to deal with you two instead.”

Alex considered replying, but then he took a closer look at Rebecca’s expression, and the fire smoldering in her normally welcoming brown eyes.

“Just to be clear, you understand that people will literally die,” Rebecca said, “because you are wasting my time?”

To Alex’s great surprise, Eerie just nodded.

“Well, that’s just great,” Rebecca said. “Now that we understand each other, which one of you would like to explain what the hell you have planned for tomorrow?”

Alex exchanged a glance with Eerie.

She looked afraid, and he discovered that he hated that.

“The Church of Sleep is supposed to show up tomorrow,” Alex said. “We are gonna send it into the Ether.”

“Is that a fact?” Rebecca took a pack of gum from her pocket. “How are you planning to do that?”

“I’m going to do it,” Alex said. “Gaul told me how.”

“Gaul Thule? The former Director, and current traitor and instigator of a civil war?” Rebecca put a piece of gum in her mouth and started to chew. “That Gaul Thule? You keep some interesting company these days, Alex. When did he provide you with this helpful advice?”

Eerie squeezed his hand underneath the table, but he ignored it.

He knew he couldn’t lie to Rebecca, so it was better to just come out with it.

“Earlier today.”

“Earlier today?” Rebecca laughed. “Where?”

“In Greenland.”

“Iceland,” Eerie corrected. “It was Iceland.”

“One question just leads to another,” Rebecca said. “How did you get to Iceland?”

“I probably shouldn’t say,” Alex said. “Ask Emily, okay?”

“I see. So the Thule Cartel has repaired their apport station at Hvolsvöllur? And they were willing to have you as guests,” Rebecca said. “That’s not a good look, Alex. Associating with the Thule Cartel.”

“We weren’t associating,” Eerie said. “Or anything else bad.”

“You be quiet for a little while, Eerie,” Rebecca said, with a tone that suggested it was not a request. “The two of us have a whole bunch of things I want to talk about, of course, but I think I already have an idea of what you are up to. Alex, on the other hand…I want to hear him try to explain himself.”

“I’m not sure what you want me to say,” Alex said, crossing his arms. “It’s like Eerie said. We weren’t guests. We fought with them, at first, or at least it seemed like a fight. Turned out to be an illusion.” Alex rubbed his head thoughtfully, running his fingers along the place where Egill had smashed his skull open, or at least appeared to do so. “Which was probably for the best, because we kinda got our asses kicked. Although, looking back on it, I’m not sure that Emily fought at all, so that might have been a factor.”

“I get the sense that you have no idea how ridiculous your life has become,” Rebecca said. “Or have you just gotten used to it?”

“The first person I saw die was a werewolf. The first normal person I ever saw die came back to life and tried to kill me. I think it would be stranger if I hadn’t adjusted.”

“Why did you think Gaul could help you?”

“Vivik told me he knew something.”

“Emily must have told him to tell you,” Rebecca said. “Interesting. How much of this plan do you think comes from her?”

Alex had to think about it, because the idea had never occurred to him.

This was not due to some sort of unwavering trust he had for Emily, because there was no such trust.

He simply did not think of Emily on the same terms as he did Rebecca, or Gaul, or Anastasia.

Though her single-handed takeover of the Far Shores should probably have sparked a rethink of that.

“Probably a lot,” Alex said. “She’s very smart, and she has a personal stake in this, so…yeah. A lot.”

“I’d imagine that’s pretty convenient for you, Eerie,” Rebecca said, her jaw working as she ground the gum between her teeth. “The way Alex is always looking at his ex when something unfortunate happens.”

“What are you trying to say, Ms. Levy?”

“I’m saying if Eerie had a firm hand on your life circumstances, then Emily Muir must have also been a part of that plan,” Rebecca said, staring hard at Eerie, who was turned so far away as to be sitting sideways on her chair. “You’ve upset the designs of the Hegemony and the Black Sun and a couple different Directors – do you really expect me to believe that you never saw Emily coming?”

Alex joined Rebecca in staring at Eerie.

She blushed, and then cleared her throat.

“I’m not talking,” she said, “because I was told not to.”

“Don’t be brat,” Rebecca said. “Go ahead and talk.”

“Emily is unpredictable,” Eerie said, “and sometimes mean, and sometimes very nice, and of all the people I’ve ever met, I understand her the least, even if we are friends, and I’m not always sure that we are.”

“Really? You outmaneuvered Gaul Thule.” Rebecca shook her head. “I find this hard to believe.”

“I find it hard to believe that you think I’d make a plan that involved my boyfriend dating Emily first,” Eerie said, her cheeks the color of stop signs. “I can’t see the future, and there are no sure things. I’ve done what I thought I could, where I thought it would work, and that’s it. Gaul and Anastasia and Emily messed up just as many of my plans as I did theirs, you know.”

“And now you want to destroy the Church,” Rebecca said. “Is that even possible?”

“It should be,” Eerie said. “Gaul said so. Why would he lie?”

“I don’t know, you silly girl,” Rebecca snarled. “Maybe he wants the Church to do whatever the fuck it is going to do?”

“Oh.” Eerie went pale. “That just proves my point, you see. I don’t know until I know. Knowing that I will know isn’t the same thing at all.”

“You think the Absolute Protocol can do this thing,” Rebecca said. “Have you considered what this might do to you?”

“Eerie was just worrying about that,” Alex said. “She’s worried I’ll fall asleep for a long time.”

“She’s right to worry,” Rebecca said. “Has she given you an estimate?”

“We were just talking about that,” Alex said, glancing at the Changeling. “She isn’t sure.”

“I doubt that. I’ve only got three staff left in Analytics, and it took them like five minutes to run the numbers, and they are working from a dorm lounge.” Rebecca turned her eyes back on to Eerie. “What do you think, Eerie? My guys came up with a big number.”

“Too long,” Eerie whispered. “That is what I was telling him.”

“Did you tell him how long?” Rebecca picked up Eerie’s fruit punch and spit her gum into it. “Because I heard around eighty years, give or take.”

Alex stood hurriedly, nearly toppling the table. He was hyperventilating, all color drained from his face, squinting with his good eye, while the other stared out into the middle distance, unperturbed and numb.

“What did you say?”

“I said a whole damn lifetime,” Rebecca said. “Are you starting to get it now?”

“You don’t have to be so mean!” Eerie had stood herself, clinging to Alex’s arm as she shouted. “You could just be nice!”

“It’s just an estimate,” Rebecca said. “Plus or minus five years.”

“It could be longer?” Alex turned his horrified look on Eerie. “It could be more than eighty years?”

“I told you this was a bad plan!” Eerie shouted. “This is why I wanted to go back myself, before you had to…”

“About that,” Rebecca said. “Mitsuru told me about what you did to her, and her protocol. Her new abilities seem to have been very effective against John Parson. That was a funny thing to do if you were planning to give yourself up.”

Eerie looked at Alex and shook her head frantically.

“I’ve changed my mind,” she said. “I was going to do…something else. Something bad, and mean, but it’s too hard. It’s always too hard! I always change my mind, and it’s always too late! Please, please, you have to believe me.”

“I want to, Eerie, I really do.” Rebecca rubbed her face. “I don’t think you understand the seriousness of this situation, kids. I’m not here as your friend and councilor, Alex, and I’m not…I can’t be whatever I usually am to you, Eerie.” The two women shared a long glance that was full of emotional import Alex knew he would never understand. “I’m here as Chief Auditor, and an Inquiry into this whole Church business is well underway. Both of you are targets for an Audit, I’m afraid, and you aren’t doing much to convince me otherwise.”

“Ms. Levy, you have to trust me,” Alex said. “I like you, I really do. I would never – we would never do anything bad to you, or to hurt Central.”

“I’d like to believe that,” Rebecca said, giving him a look that he was very familiar with, but had never seen from her before – the chronic disappointment he remembered from correctional officers and social workers, who knew he would fail and then lie about failing before he had the chance to do anything. “I’d also like to know if you had anything to do with the destruction of the Source Well?”

Alex froze, as if she might relent if he held perfectly still, but Rebecca waited him out.

“I did it,” he admitted, finally. “I’m sorry.”

“You’ve doomed Central. There’s no future for us, for anyone here.” Rebecca shook her head in disbelief. “What did we do to deserve that?”

“What?”

“Why did you destroy the Source Well?”

“This is going to sound bad,” Alex said, with total conviction. “Really bad, probably.”

“I’m not surprised.”

“Emily told me to,” Alex said, crestfallen. “She said that I’d be putting an end to all the death and stupidity, and the fucking travesty of the Academy and the Program. No more cartels, no more Administration. All the games would be over.”

“That makes perfect sense,” Rebecca said, smiling at him in an entirely unfriendly way. “Of course, no one can live in Central, or even get to Central, without the source of nanites that you’ve destroyed, so the rest is a bit of a moot point. How much do you figure that you can reform a society that has no future?”

“I, uh, I didn’t really think it through that far.”

“So not surprised. I’m curious, though, Alex. Did you happen to notice Emily taking some of the water from the Source Well for herself, right before you ruined everything?”

Alex shook his head, and then looked to Eerie for support. Eerie continued to avoid his eyes, staring into her lap instead with a dreary expression.

“I’m certain she did, because unlike you, she’s not a complete idiot,” Rebecca said. “John Parson – who Emily Muir at least used to work for, as I recall – has his own supply already. So, it’s just us that you’ve deprived of nanites. Our enemies will be just fine.”

“I didn’t know any of that,” Alex said. “How could I?”

“I don’t blame you for not knowing,” Rebecca snapped. “I blame you for freezing the Source Well just because your ex-girlfriend asked nicely!”

“I don’t like what you did to me, Ms. Levy,” Alex said. “I don’t like what Central does to the kids at the Academy.”

“Then use your damn words! Come talk to me! We could have worked something out,” Rebecca said. “We could have done something about it together.”

“I’ve been told you designed the Program,” Alex said. “I fucking hated the Program.”

“It might be cruel, but life is cruel. It was designed to keep you alive.”

“How many kids died last year because the Introduction didn’t take?” Alex realized he was shouting, and attempted, with mixed success, to stop. “How many the year before, and the year before that?”

“You think John Parson is going to stop coming after us? You trust Emily with the Far Shores? You’ve lost your mind if you do.” Rebecca shook her head. “What do you imagine the Hegemony and the Black Sun will do when they discover the Source Well is gone?”

“I didn’t think about any of that!”

Rebecca put her head on her hands.

“I have no idea how to apportion blame between you two,” she said, giving them a look of such disappointment that Alex felt instantly guilty. “You’ve destroyed a World Tree without orders, convinced Auditors in the field to desert, spent months in the Outer Dark associating with Anathema, and now you’ve destroyed the Source Well. Oh, and you are currently shacking up in an occupied facility, hijacked by Emily Muir, an enemy of Central and an Anathema herself. Do you two understand how serious this situation is?”

Alex glanced at Eerie, but she was still looking away, her fists clenched, but her posture slumped and defeated.

“I’m not sure that I do,” Alex said. “What do you mean?”

“I would be within my rights to incarcerate you until further investigation can be done,” Rebecca said, sounding sad about it. “It’s my responsibility to prevent you from killing everyone and destroying everything, and I’m expected to do everything in my power to keep the peace. I’m an Auditor, remember? Like you are supposed to be, Alex? That’s our job.”

“Don’t say things like that,” Alex said, unable to keep himself from shivering. “Please, Ms. Levy. You can’t mean it.”

“I care more than I should for both of you, and I don’t want to so much as ground you,” Rebecca said quietly. “I’m going to offer you a deal that you don’t deserve, and trust you to honor it, even though I shouldn’t. Stop this, now. Both of you. If you promise me that you’ll stop messing with reality, consorting with our enemies, and doing favors for Emily Muir, I’ll task the Auditors to deal with the Church of Sleep.”

Eerie gave Alex a look, her eyes narrowed, and the corners of her mouth turned down, but whatever meaning he was supposed to take from it eluded him. He shrugged at her, hands out in a gesture of confusion.

“No deal,” Eerie said, folding her arms. “You were always the best to me, Rebecca. I haven’t forgotten that, but right now we need Emily’s help more than we need the Auditors. I’m sorry.”

“Me too,” Rebecca said, her jaw working from side to side. “You are a couple of dumb kids, you know? What do you expect me to do here?”

“We’re all friends, right?” Alex gave them both a hopeful look in turn. “That’s what’s important, isn’t it? Can’t you just trust us?”

“I wish. You betrayed my trust when you destroyed the Source Well, if you hadn’t already with your other shenanigans,” Rebecca said. “You’ve taken it out of my hands. This isn’t a personal affair anymore. It’s gone political, Alex.”

“Oh.” Alex winced. “I hate politics.”

“I’m not sure why this is so hard for the two of you to understand, but I’m going to try and explain once more,” Rebecca said. “What you plan to do tomorrow could very well end the world, whether you succeed or fail. I can’t let you maybe kill everyone, no matter how head-over-heels you are for each other.”

“Yeah?” Alex glared. “What are you gonna do, then?”

“I’m gonna stop you,” Rebecca said sourly. “The only question is—”

The door to the cafeteria banged open as Alice rushed in.

“Becca! We got a problem!”

Rebecca put her head in her hands.

“Of course we do.”

“One of Gaul’s freaky nephews is outside,” Alice said, pulling on her arm. “He said he’s looking for you.”

“Of course he did.”

“Are you coming, or what?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Rebecca said, pausing to glare at Alex and Eerie. “You two stay right here, okay? We aren’t done.”

The women hurried from the cafeteria.

“This seems like an Auditor thing, Alex.”

“Yeah.”

“They didn’t invite you to come.”

“Uh huh.”

“Are you not an Auditor anymore?”

“I don’t know,” Alex said. “Seems like I’m not, though.”

“Is that sad?” Eerie touched his arm. “Are you sad now?”

He put his arm around her, and she rested her head on his shoulder.

“I’m not really hungry anymore.”

“Me either.”

“I’m tired. Do you want to go back to your room, or do you want to go see the fight or whatever it is without me?”

“My room,” Alex said, pulling her into his arms. “With you.”

***

There was a small crowd arrayed about Egill Johannsson, though they kept a careful, if not respectful, distance from the Anathema. Rebecca glanced at the faces as Alice forced their way through and was surprised not to see Emily or any of her crew present.

That might have something to do with Vivik, Rebecca thought. With a remote viewer like him on her side, Emily did not need to worry about missing out on anything.

A pity, really.

They had penciled Vivik in to run Analytics in a few years.

Cursing boys and their hormones, Rebecca followed Alice over to the center of the small crowd, where Xia faced off with Egill.

Calling the encounter impassive would have been generous.

It was more like a staring contest that had ended in mutual disinterest.

Egill ignored the handful of people who stood around him, each hoping that the interloper was someone else’s responsibility, while Xia watched with total detachment. Rebecca could feel waves of relief pass through the crowd as the Auditors were noticed, nervousness mutating into eagerness as they realized they were off the hook.

“I hate my job,” Rebecca announced, stopping just short of Egill and jamming a finger into his chest. “What do you want?”

He backed away, puzzled and appalled.

“Do you treat all your guests this way?”

“I’m in a bad mood,” Rebecca said, advancing on him. “Are you here to fight, kid? Do you want to fight me? Because I could get into a fight,” she said, poking him again. “That could happen. You wanna go?”

“No! Not at all,” Egill said, again retreating. “I’m only here because my uncle wanted me to talk to you.”

“I’m not interested in talking,” Rebecca growled. “I’m either going to sleep or fight. Which is it, kid?”

“Calm down! My uncle told me that you would be reasonable! I just have to tell you one thing,” he protested. “The Church of Sleep will manifest in Central tomorrow morning.”

“I know that,” Rebecca said. “Everyone keeps telling me that.”

“It will appear at the Academy,” Egill said. “The hidden garden in the courtyard of the Main Library. That’s what my uncle wanted me to tell you. He said you would know what I was talking about.”

“More words,” Rebecca said, reaching for him. “I am not interested in your words.”

“You are a terrible host, Rebecca Levy,” Egill said, stepping away. “Good night.”

He blinked out of existence before Rebecca could get her hands on him.

“Kids are awful,” Rebecca said. “They should be illegal.”

“No argument from me,” Alice said. “What now?”

“I’m going to sleep,” Rebecca said. “Today sucks, and I will have no further involvement with it.”

Xia joined Alice as Rebecca marched off, nearly trampling onlookers who failed to move aside quickly enough.

“I don’t know,” Alice said. “You think she’s gonna be okay?”

Xia stood motionless beside her and made no indication either way.

“Good point,” Alice said, nodding. “You always know just what to say.”

Twenty-Nine

Day Seven

John Parson had to take the long way back from the Outer Dark.

Any member of the Rescue Alex from the Outer Dark Club would have recognized the route, but it took John a great deal less time in his current form.

He itched on the inside, among the new organs and cancers that had grown in his distended abdomen, and sand was caked around his lacerated eyes. His skeleton was filled with microscopic fractures, the result of his ongoing transformation, and every step sent jolts of pain shooting up his legs and along his spine.

At least this time he had figured out the trick of producing clothing, along with flesh.

The suffering was abject, but he bore it without noise or complaint, since there was not enough of what he had considered himself to be bothered. He was almost entirely the Church and what the Church needed, and not very much at all a man named John Parson.

Of course, almost is not the same thing as all.

He tore through the landscape, reducing the trees in his path to scraps and splinters. His form mutated with the terrain and the environment, the distance melting away in an agonizing fugue state. The Church called to his feverish brain from Central, and he was as a moth to a lightbulb.

He went first to where it should have been, and by the time he arrived, his normal appearance, at least, had been restored.

The Outer Dark no longer felt familiar.

It was just another place, and he paid it no mind.

He was concerned with what was not there.

John Parson surveyed the broken remainder of Marcus’s rose garden, as the last of the identical blooms shriveled and died, consumed by gathering black mist. The sky was nearly black, above, as the Outer Dark finished its reclamation of the area.

Marcus sat on an upside-down bucket amid the ruined garden. For some reason, Katya, the Black Sun assassin, sat beside him on a couple stacked bags of soil. When they noticed John looking at them, they raised their bottles in greeting.

Everything was wrong.

The Church of Sleep was meant to have manifested in this place.

John knew it, his solemn assurance reinforced by the spontaneous destruction of the garden.

Marcus had planted the garden here because the Church would manifest here. He had called it a protest. John had, in his former state, considered it an admirable but futile exercise.

Apparently, he had been mistaken.

Instead…

John grimaced and looked away. He wanted to ask Marcus, to confirm his suspicions as to the cause, but that would have been pointless.

The Changeling was responsible, of course. Who else?

The Church of Sleep was driven into the fabric of reality like a nail through a finger, and watching the petals wither, John suddenly knew just where it had punctured reality.

He was called there, as the Horrors were called, to take his place.

He took a step in a direction that had not existed, a moment before, and then he was gone.

Another step, and he stood before the ruin of the Academy’s Main Library. In the center of the broken building, the Church pierced the ceiling and towered above Central, so white that it hurt his eyes to look at it.

It was of no specific size or orientation, constructed entirely without corners or joinings. Each line of the building extended in parallel as far as could be seen. The Church scoffed at the necessity of a top or a bottom and eschewed the distinction between inside and outside.

The windows of the Academy reflected a light that he could not see, and the scattered stone and mortar of the Main Library hummed in resonance with the subtle vibration that could already be felt from one side of Central to the other.

The sky above the Church was black, the habitual gloom of Central banished by its presence.

Horrors congregated about the Church, screaming as they drifted slowly toward it, like asteroids being pulled into a planetary gravity well, orbiting the Church in narrowing circuits, until they shrieked and deflated, and then drifted slowly to the ground like broken kites.

The migration was enormous. Horrors crowded Central’s sky as far as he could see with his new eyes, which was very far.

Three out of the vast herd of Horrors overhead were pulled close to the Church. They screamed as they were rent by bolts of slow lightning that came creeping out of the ground around the library. Their smoking exoskeletons fell from the sky and were pulverized by the broken walls of the library.

Figures began the grisly process of extracting themselves from the gelatinous corpses of the Horrors. John watched the process with obvious impatience.

“You took long enough,” John said, adjusting his coat. “I was starting to wonder.”

“We were delayed,” the first of three figures said as it approached, their voice buzzing first like an overturned hive, then the roar of nearby traffic. “That has never happened before. It should not have happened.”

They were not even vaguely human, despite the identical suits they wore, black with a matching tie over a white shirt, as if they were a trio of mourners. Above their tightly buttoned collars there was nothing but a black smear, as if a fraction of the night sky were placed where they should have had faces.

If he allowed his eyes to linger on any of three dark smudges, John started to see blood-red stars within them, unfamiliar constellations twinkling in the depths of that impossible shadow.

“It’s just an expression,” John explained. “I didn’t mean that literally.”

“A falsehood is a falsehood,” the second figure said, with a voice like a steam whistle, the sound resonating in John’s eardrums long after the words were spoken. “These people are so devoted to their beliefs/fictions.”

“Yes, I suppose they are,” John said agreeably. “I expected you at the usual place, in the Outer Dark. What brings you to Central?”

“The tampering of a foolish gardener, as you are well aware,” the third figure said, with a melodious voice that resembled the tones of a woodwind instrument, multi-toned and in constant harmony with itself. “Why is she not here?”

“You don’t know already?”

“We wish to hear you say it,” the second figure explained. “Tell us of your failure.”

“Time for it all to come to out, then,” John said, rubbing his hands together. “The Changeling has no plans to return to the Church. She has claimed a name and an identity, and she wishes to preserve them.”

“A name?” The figure hissed. “A name is nothing. We are capable of such things as well. Shall we demonstrate?”

“I am Mr. Crane,” the first figure said, a crimson star flashing in the black mirror that stood in place of its head. “This is the name that I have chosen.”

“The name of a grade-school teacher at the Academy,” John said, with an amused look. “A fine choice.”

“I am Mrs. Gimble,” the second figure said, sparks dripping from its absent head like spittle, brushing cinders from the seared front of its shirt with fingers as thin and grasping as poverty. “This is a name/identification.”

“My first secretary’s name,” John Parson remarked. “Not my favorite person, honestly.”

The third figure hesitated.

It reached into the darkness atop its collar, going in all the way to the elbow and rummaging about it for a short while. It pulled the arm free with difficulty, a piece of soggy newsprint clutched between two fingers. As it struggled to unfold the paper, John noticed that its fingers were attached the wrong way around, bending opposite the palm.

“I am Mr. Pig Iron,” the figure whistled. “You will address me as such.”

“Taking names hardly makes you all my equals. Do you not understand? I have refined myself, during my time here. I have become something beyond a mere Representative,” John said. “Regardless, as we are properly introduced, might I ask you to leave, and allow me to handle the trouble with Changeling? I assure you that I have the situation entirely under control.”

The three figures turned toward each other and appeared to confer, but the only sounds that John heard were the wind rattling through the branches of a half-dead, hollow tree. Then they turned in unison to face him again.

“You may ask,” Mr. Crane confirmed.

“That’s very civil of you,” John said. “Will you depart and allow me to handle matters here?”

“We will not,” Mrs. Gimble said, in a tone that reminded John of an oboe. “The Fifth Assembly of the Church of Sleep has convened and appointed us Representatives. The Assembly will not disperse until the Changeling is pacified/subjugated.”

“I’ve already told you that I wish to handle it myself.”

“There is no self,” Mrs. Gimble said. “There is no separation/identity.”

“You may not want,” Mr. Crane said. “You may not have.”

“I think I might, but leaving that aside,” John said, “this seems like a lot of trouble just to devour one little girl.”

“The Changeling is not a girl, and we do not eat,” Mr. Pig Iron said, in a deafening and shrill tone. “We know only hunger.”

“I know a very nice place in Spain where they do a sixteen-course prix fixe dinner, if you are interested. My treat,” John said, pocketing his cufflinks. “Something to occupy you while I resolve this situation. If not, then I’m afraid I’ll have to stop you here.”

The three figures repeated their apparent conference. Mr. Pig Iron reached into the absence that crowned its suit and dug about violently. The arm reemerged coated up to the elbow with what mucus, another soggy scrap of grey paper pinched between inverted fingers.

“We do not want dinner,” Mr. Pig Iron informed him. “Your offer is noted.”

“What a pity,” John said, rolling up his sleeves. “You probably would have liked it.”

“We do not like. You must have realized that something has gone wrong with you,” Mr. Crane insisted, his voice humming like an electrical transformer. “You have failed the Church. You are a failure, and you will die an appropriate death.”

“I will not die, and I am not broken,” John said, loosening his collar. “As I have told you, I have no more intention to defy the Church. I simply wish to correct my own mistake. Is that so much to ask? Are you certain you won’t leave in peace?”

“We will depart,” Mrs. Gimble said, showering him with sparks. “As soon as we have taken/forced/brutalized the Changeling.”

“Oh, very well,” John said, dismissing them with a gesture. “Burn, then.”

The three figures were consumed by a wall of flame, a towering inferno that singed the tiny hairs on his exposed skin. A grassfire broke out near the edge of the woods, and many of the books scattered about them caught fire.

The inferno swirled and diminished, pulled into the shadow above Mr. Crane’s collar and consumed.

John frowned and closed his eyes.

Bolts of slow lightning ripped themselves from the ground, impaling the Representatives.

They disappeared into a brilliant confusion of electrical discharge. John Parson took a deep breath, and then mopped his forehead with his pocket square, his face flushed and his eyes full of burst blood vessels.

The calamity came to a grudging end.

The three Representatives stood amid scorched earth. Mrs. Gimble was burning like an effigy and Mr. Pig Iron was missing his right arm, while Mr. Crane’s tie had gone badly askew.

None of this seemed to trouble them.

Mrs. Gimble passed her hand before her absent face, and fire gathered in her hand. She offered the flame to him reverently, the blaze nestled in her palm like a precious stone.

John was smothered by flame in an instant.

Only the lime-green radiance of a barrier separated him from immolation.

“Why fight what is inevitable/best for you/mandatory?” Mrs. Gimble asked. “The difference between us is far too great. You should admit defeat/submission.”

John banished the flames and the barrier with a wave of his hand.

“You are wrong,” John said, brushing ash from his coat. “I am the only appropriate solution to this problem, and it is time that you recognized that fact.”

John disappeared, and then reappeared behind the bulky figure of Mr. Pig Iron. He squared up and threw a straight right, his fist crackling with vivid blue telekinetic energy. His hand went straight through Mr. Pig Iron’s chest and emerged between the lapels of its white suit, expelling an inky mass of tubes and pulsating tumors across the ground. The air around them was thick with charged Ether, excited by the force of John’s simultaneous telepathic attack.

Horns tore out of Mr. Pig Iron’s back, impaling John.

John spat blood and groaned, cursing when he looked at the horns perforating his chest and stomach. John closed his eyes, and his body turned to a cloud of ash that swirled away, caught by a wind that seemed to affect nothing else.

The ash coalesced not far from where the Representatives of the Fifth Assembly stood, taking on form and rigidity, creating a grey cast of John Parson’s features. The mold cracked, and John stepped from the ash, coughing into his hand.

“This would be an excellent time for my allies to arrive,” John Parson suggested, dabbing the blood from his lips. “Really, any sort of intervention would be appreciated.”

The Representatives waited. John glanced at his watch and sighed.

“I was a fool to trust Emily Muir,” he said, running his fingers through his hair. “Not the first, and likely not the last, I suppose.”

“You are a fool,” Mrs. Gimble agreed. “All who trust/clutch/cling are foolish.”

Mr. Pig Iron extracted a wet piece of paper from the void hovering above his neckline, and then gingerly unfolded the scrap with his backward fingers, holding up the result for all to read.

The word “weakness” was written in crude pencil scratches across the soggy paper.

“Can you really afford to be so critical?” John asked. “There are three of you, and only one of me, after all.”

John flexed his fingers, and claws extruded from his cuticles. He bared his pointed teeth.

The Representatives watched without comment, Mr. Pig Iron’s gelatinous guts still leaking from a gaping hole in his chest.

John blinked out of existence, and then stepped from nowhere to tear a chunk out of Mrs. Gimble’s side. His claws left deep gouges along her side, cinders bleeding out from between the dull ivory of her exposed ribs. Her smoldering blood stuck to John’s claws, and the smell of scorched cartilage predominated.

Mrs. Gimble unhinged her jaw like a snake and spewed a torrent of blue-white fire. John apported, jumping behind Mr. Crane and laying into him with both sets of claws, shredding his suit and the flesh beneath like crepe paper, viscera squelching between John’s talons.

John was struck with a bolt of telekinetic force that knocked him over and flattened him to the ground, crushing the air from his lungs and grinding his bones into the topsoil. He apported several meters to Mr. Crane’s left, only to be pulverized by two colliding telekinetic strikes, invisible force splintering his ribcage, launching fragments of crushed bone into his organs.

He turned to ash with an exasperated sigh.

The ash drifted across toward the brushfire that was consuming the dry grass above the library and formed into a grey statue. John broke free from the mold, looking markedly the worse for wear. Blood dripped from his nose and mouth, and the vessels in his eyes burst, staining his sclera.

“This is becoming troublesome,” John complained. “If you would just…”

“No more talk,” Mr. Crane said, with the voice of a thousand clamoring sea birds. “End this.”

Mr. Pig Iron gestured like a composer urging a crescendo from a lackluster orchestra, and mineral spikes burst from the loam to skewer John, puncturing his arms and legs, running him through at the hip and breastbone.

Mrs. Gimble opened her mouth wide and breathed a river of blue flame into him, incinerating his clothes and burning his skin to a charred, flakey black.

Mr. Crane glowered, and the sheer malice of his empathic assault stripped green needles from the nearby pines even as it fractured John’s consciousness, pulverizing his identity into a fine powder.

John turned to ash, but this time, the ash drifted aimlessly, settling on the dirt not far from where his body had been.

The cast formed slowly, as if the ash struggled to recall its former shape. The mold cracked, and John Parson collapsed in the dirt, his clothing soaked through with blood and his breath rattling in his throat.

“You would have died for your failure. Those who oppose the Church of Sleep are not allowed to die,” Mr. Crane explained, speaking in the voice of tide pounding the sand. “It is not deserved. You will be taken to the White Room.”

“You will be abused/violated,” Mrs. Gimble said, looming over the dying man. “You will never leave the White Room. This is a permanent arrangement.”

Mr. Pig Iron reached its hand into his abdomen, its fingers pushing easily through the skin. It made a fist and then pulled, disemboweling him. John screamed, but his scream died as his skin burned away, the interior of his lungs scorched when he tried to breathe.

John could not laugh, but he smiled even as blood dribbled from his lips.

Mr. Pig Iron watched in astonishment as his arm began to dissolve, the flesh dripping from his bones like candlewax.

“I warned you,” John said, pinching the skin back together across his chest. “You are making an error, and I plan to correct it personally.”

Mrs. Gimble watched Mr. Pig Iron dissolve into a pink and grey puddle, and then turned to her companion.

“Go,” she told Mr. Crane. “Find the Changeling. I will deal with this failure/mistake.”

Mr. Crane nodded and reached out with fingers that were little more than bone and rags, hooking the sharp edges of its fingernails into the fabric of reality, and then tearing it open.

Mr. Crane took a step into the wound he created.

“That won’t do at all,” John said, tugging his clothing back together, the cloth reknitting as smoothly as the flesh and bone had. “I have a better idea.”

Mr. Crane screamed like one of the dying Horrors overhead, the tear in reality closing behind him as he disappeared.

“You sent Mr. Crane somewhere,” Mrs. Gimble observed. “Why?”

“I cannot claim that I saw all of this coming, but I had an ally who made some very good guesses,” John said, fixing his cufflinks and adjusting his jacket. “I’ve had years to cultivate options and resources. Mr. Crane will find himself suitably occupied while I deal with you.”

“This is not it. You are broken,” Mrs. Gimble said. “You will be consumed/purged.”

The smile evaporated from John’s face.

The Church of Sleep seemed to loom over him, though its lines remained perfectly straight and infinite. He found himself standing in the shadow of the white tower, though the sky had gone dark, and the light of the grassfire was not enough to cast such a great shadow.

The Church did not open, because it had no doors.

The Church did not take him inside, because it had no inside.

The Church loomed, and then John was gone, only a faint wisp of steam remaining where he once stood.

***

They chanced Alistair’s codes, because the risk of arriving in Hvolsvöllur any other way was judged to be even greater. Whatever his intentions were in handing them over, the access codes worked perfectly, and the apport station was promptly provided with coordinates and calculations.

They arrived in Iceland just before the dawn, though the sun had never entirely disappeared for the last several days, due to the season and the latitude.

Anastasia started toward the manor, her staff hurrying after her.

Mai jostled Renton, pushing him aside and muddying his shoes.

“You are wrong, you know,” she said, giving him an icy look as she walked past. “This is not a mistake. You are a witness to the rising of the Black Sun.”

Renton smiled at her and took a handkerchief from his jacket pocket.

“Poetry at a time like this,” he muttered, bending to wipe the muck from his shoes. “What are you doing, Ana?”

***

I don’t see anything special.

Be careful. We have two Operators down since yesterday on this street, and no reason to think that they’ve moved on.

Yeah, but…it seems fine. It seems normal. Empty.

Just hold back for a second. Hayley, what do you have?

I’ve been using a stray cat to scope out the next few blocks, and they look deserted. Either the Thule Operators are good enough to hide their Etheric Signatures, or this whole neighborhood is empty.

Okay. Still feel like taking a little walk, Grigori?

That sounds preferable to hiding around the corner all afternoon. I’m moving out.

Grigori finally turned the corner where he had been lingering for more than ten minutes, crouched beside a torched Mercedes, his nostrils filled with the stink of melted tires and singed plastic, waiting for the go-ahead from Rebecca.

He walked with the easy gait of a man on a neighborhood stroll, his body language as nonchalant as training and telepathic preparation could make it.

He braced himself for the crack of the sniper’s rifle as he stepped into the open but was met with silence. That should have been a welcome development, but instead it just made him feel worse.

The Auditors had been in Central since before dawn, clearing occupied blocks, destroying sniper nests, and dealing with barricades and booby-traps across downtown. It had been hard fighting, the whole way, and Grigori was completely unnerved by the empty street he was currently walking.

The colorful row of houses known locally as the Easter Eggs had suffered greatly in the Thule occupation, and every third house was burned out or toppled. Broken windows and kicked-in doors on the remainder of the homes offered evidence of the widespread looting that had taken place during the occupation. Grigori glanced at the upper windows, wondering a little about survivors, and more about snipers.

The Operation had been conducted cautiously, in a radical departure from Ms. Gallow’s leadership of the Auditors. Ms. Levy considered every step of their deployment carefully.

To his surprise, Grigori was not entirely sure he liked it.

Their advance was a complicated dance, requiring Ms. Levy to act as remote observer and tactician, while Hayley scouted ahead and provided telepathic support. Min-jun was their barrier tech, while Xia was tasked with removing barricades, destroying traps and explosives, and occasionally burning out buildings when the Thule Cartel soldiers inside refused to surrender.

That left only Grigori to play decoy.

He cleared the first block of the Easter Eggs without incident and was nearly clear of the second when the screaming started. Grigori spun about, trying to locate a source.

Where is that coming from? It sounds like someone is dying!

What do you mean? Hayley replied. I’ve got nothing. There’s no Signature or…

Grigori caught a flash of movement from the shop on his right hand. Another scream rang in his ears, even more horrific than the prior one.

It was a woman, Grigori was sure. A woman screaming in pure agony, or unmitigated distress.

Listen to me, Grigori, Rebecca interjected. It isn’t what you think! I want you to wait for...

The third scream started, and Grigori kicked the door down, and burst inside.

“Hello? Tell me where you are, and I’ll…”

There was a terrific sound accompanied by a wave of pressure, like a train passing by so close that he could feel the wind on his skin. His last thought was to activate his protocol, and then Grigori was carried from his feet, and deposited on the concrete several meters away. There was no pain.

Grigori! Are you okay? What happened!

He’s alive! He’s alive. I’ve got him. It was a…

The second detonation was like wind passing through the grass – nearly soundless, a ripple of force that whipped through his surroundings, breaking what could not bend with it.

His protocol activated without his willing it, without even a conscious thought, a brute force activation that scoured out his head from inside. The air was knocked from his lungs, and then he was sent flying again, stopping only when he collided with one of the shop walls.

***

Alex was checking the gear he had cobbled together for the second time, tightening the straps on his field bag when Leigh arrived, tossing her gear beside his own.

“Hey,” the vampire said. “Guess we’re all going together?”

“I guess. We were supposed to go with Marcus, but he didn’t show, or something like that,” Alex said, shrugging nonchalantly, though he was happy for any conversation. Eerie had not spoken a word since breakfast. “Emily doesn’t really tell me much.”

“Probably because you never ask questions,” Leigh said. “Or you ask stupid questions.”

Vivik walked into the apport station before Alex could respond, his arrival timed so close to Leigh’s that Alex suspected they had walked together, and only split to avoid public notice.

“Could be,” Alex said, grinning at Vivik. “I don’t miss everything, though.”

“Good morning,” Vivik said. “What’s happening?”

“Nothing exciting,” Alex said. “We’ve been waiting around for an hour.”

He took his maintenance kit from his bag and started to clean the lens on the scope he never used, for the rifle he rarely used.

“I thought you guys were going with Marcus?”

“That was the plan,” Alex said. “Like I said, we waited, but he never showed.”

“That settles it,” Leigh said. “If Marcus didn’t show, he has either betrayed us, or he’s dead.”

“Marcus wouldn’t betray us,” Emily said with conviction. “He wouldn’t do that.”

“Then he’s dead,” Leigh said, sitting beside Alex and stealing one of his cleaning rags for her sidearm, which she rapidly dissembled. “What else?”

“I don’t know,” Emily said. “I truly have no idea.”

“That’s ominous,” Leigh said. “Thanks for the reassurance, boss.”

“Would you rather that I lied to you?”

“Not too often,” Leigh said. “Only about the important things.”

Mitsuru pushed open the door to the apport station, then held it so that Adel and another technician could scramble into the room. They were breathing hard and sweating heavily, burdened by full backpacks and armloads of tech gear.

“Sorry for the delay,” Adel gasped, hurrying to the control panel. “We burned out a hard drive this morning recalibrating, and I had to go all the way to Processing to find another. We’ll have it up in just a few minutes…”

“That will be fine, Adel,” Emily said, smiling gently at the technician. “We appreciate you getting this done on such short notice.”

Alex noticed that Eerie was pacing the apport station, her sneakers squeaking when she turned about at the edge of the metal platform. He shoved the scope in his bag, pushed the maintenance kit into Leigh’s lap, and hurried over to the Changeling’s side.

“Are you okay?” Alex put a hand on her shoulder. “You seem worried.”

“We need to go,” Eerie said, wide-eyed and nearly hyperventilating. “We don’t have much time. We don’t have any time!”

“It’s okay,” Alex said. “We’ll be there in just a few minutes.”

“Why isn’t Marcus here? Why didn’t he come?” Eerie tugged at her hair. “This has never happened before!”

“This is the first time any of this has happened,” Alex reminded her. “There’s bound to be some surprises.”

“Not for me,” Eerie said. “That’s not how it is supposed to work.”

***

The mud was thick as paste in the furrows and the elevated banks around the Thule estate. The vampire carried the Mistress of the Black Sun carefully across the worst of it, perching her delicately on one of his narrow shoulders. The maids had prudently worn plastic bags over their shoes for protection, but Renton and Simeon were coated to their knees. Donner and Blitzen were caked with brown mud from their paws to their ears, and slunk about miserably, waiting for the humans to clear the mire.

They assembled before the gates of the Thule estate, grimy and chilled by the arctic winds.

Lord Gao set Anastasia carefully down on a dry spot on the dirt road. She surveyed her troops, then fixed her eyes on Daniel Gao and nodded.

Daniel bowed and then disappeared.

Sure, Renton thought sourly. Why not?

***

Grigori brushed plate glass from his clothes as he limped from the wreckage of the shop. He was pale and bleeding from scratches on his face and arms, and he had a pronounced limp.

The concussion was the worst of it. Grigori was dazed and nauseous, and even Central’s muted light was too much for his eyes.

“I see you’re still alive. That’s fine. I’m not mad about it.” Alistair grinned at him, backgrounded by burning buildings. “I don’t suppose you’ve heard the news? Probably not, what with being in the field and all.”

“I have no idea what you are talking about,” Grigori said, hoping to buy himself time to recover. “What news?”

“We are rivals,” Alistair said, laughing. “Bad news for you.”

“Rivals?”

“Rivals in love,” Alistair said. “Gabriela Estanza-Thule was your fiancé.”

“What do you mean, ‘was’?”

“I don’t know if the engagement has been officially called off yet, but that doesn’t make any difference,” Alistair said, advancing on Grigori. “She’s obviously not going to marry a dead guy.”

Min-jun popped out from behind a heap of fallen masonry and opened fire.

Every shot went wide. Grigori had to dive for cover to avoid being shot himself. Alistair just kept coming forward.

Xia attacked from the other side, enveloping Alistair in a curtain of flame.

He misjudged the distance badly, nearly burning Min-jun alive. Only a last-minute barrier saved the Auditor from immolation. Alistair plowed through the inferno, the heat raising blisters on his skin despite the barrier, knocking Xia down with a blow to the side of the head.

Grigori scrambled to the top of a nearby pile of rubble, only mildly hopeful that high ground would serve as any kind of advantage against Alistair. He wondered what the hell had happened to Hayley, who was meant to be keeping him out of their telepathic network.

He tried to activate his protocol, and to his horror found that he could not. The activation routine was lost in a cognitive haze, and his quivering brain refused to recall it.

Dully, Grigori wondered how many seconds he could expect to survive.

“You are a practical kid, aren’t you?” Alistair rolled up his sleeves. “I feel like I should do this the old-fashioned way. No telepathic cheating or anything, just mano a mano. There’s an inherent romance to beating a man to death before stealing his girl, don’t you think?”

Alistair advanced behind a low and lazy guard, his vulnerable stance practically taunting Grigori.

Grigori’s head hurt too much for him to be frightened. There was simply no room for fear in his head, which was entirely occupied by a shrill whistling like an untended tea kettle.

Grigori put his hands up woozily.

Alistair laughed as they closed.

Both men threw, Alistair going high while Grigori came in underneath.

He connected with Alistair’s ribs, earning a grunt and a step backward. Grigori started to think he might have a chance.

Alistair gave him a little nod.

“Guess I’m rusty,” he said, rubbing his side. “Good thing your protocol isn’t working, or I’d probably be dead.”

It occurred to Grigori that Alistair might be suppressing his protocol, rather than the concussion he suspected, and then he wondered why he hadn’t thought of it sooner.

He blinked hard and tried to dispel his confusion as Alistair came at him.

Alistair planted a jab square on Grigori’s nose before he even realized that he was in range. Grigori hopped back and then to the side, jabbing at Alistair’s head and throwing a few snap kicks at his legs.

Alistair leaned forward, telegraphing a shot he never went for. He caught Grigori on the chin with an uppercut, seizing the Auditor by the arm and the neck before he could recoil. Grigori twisted and pushed, years of jujitsu training flying out of his head at the worst possible moment.

He wondered if that was Alistair tampering with his thoughts in defiance of his word.

Alistair tripped Grigori and took him down, landing with his forearm across Grigori’s throat. Grigori managed to stop Alistair from crushing his windpipe, but he was dazed by the impact of the fall and hardly able to breathe.

Alistair leapt to his feet and attempted to punt Grigori’s head down the block.

Grigori managed to roll with the kick a little, but he was knocked flat again, his head throbbing and his eyes full of stars.

He lost track of Alistair, only noticing him a split-second before Alistair buried his boot in Grigori’s stomach. He rolled over in time to eat another kick to the side. Grigori wrapped himself around Alistair’s leg, holding tight to his ankle. Alistair struck Grigori in the head and neck, but Grigori refused to release his hold, cranking Alistair’s ankle with everything he had.

Alistair fought and kicked and tore, but Grigori held fast. Alistair kicked Grigori in the side of the head, dragging the sole of his boot across Grigori’s face, but Grigori continued to crank on his ankle.

He punched Grigori in the back of the neck, and Grigori felt one of his arms go numb. Grigori torqued his whole body around Alistair’s ankle, twisting as hard as he could with one good arm.

Alistair yelped and fell over.

He kicked Grigori repeatedly in the face with his other leg, busting the Auditor’s nose and lips wide open, and eventually freeing himself from the ankle lock, but that was okay by Grigori.

Somewhere along the way, he realized, tasting his own blood as it streamed from his flattened nose, his protocol had returned. He could feel it waiting in his mind, stamping about in his aching brain like a horse impatient to leave the stable.

They got back to their feet and circled.

Grigori tested his left arm, throwing a couple halfhearted jabs and finding that he had no strength left in the limb. He pulled it back to guard and advanced behind a right jab, certain that Alistair would have noticed.

He feinted and bobbed, keeping Alistair at a small distance, passing up opportunities to meaningfully engage, using his good arm exclusively.

Alistair circled and lunged, coming in on Grigori’s bad side.

Grigori threw a weak jab at Alistair with his bad arm, hardly enough force to the blow to swat a fly.

The punch landed on Alistair’s shoulder, shattering bone and pulverizing flesh, telekinetic force rippling through his body in waves and wreaking havoc. Grigori followed with his good arm, putting his fist so far into Alistair’s face that his eyes bulged, and his nose exploded. The punch drove Alistair’s septum back into his skull and fractured his jawbone nearly in half.

A left cross from Grigori finished the job, connecting with Alistair’s temple and effortlessly shattering his skull.

Alistair slumped to the ground, bleeding from his crushed face and both ears.

The broken body disappeared.

Grigori swore as he spun around.

Alistair stood behind him, restored to a state of perfect health and grinning like a bad comic in a worse nightclub.

He slid his knife into Grigori’s belly, and Grigori gasped at the horror of the cold metal intrusion, and the fantastic, impossible pain that it caused.

“That was fun! You did better than I expected,” Alistair said, twisting the blade. He caught Grigori’s shoulder, to prevent him from falling, and looked him right in the eyes. “That isn’t what I’ll tell people, though. I’ll tell them you died like a bitch.”

Alistair pulled the knife out, and Grigori clamped his hands over the wound, trying desperately to stop the gushing blood.

“I’ll tell Gabriela you begged,” Alistair said, stabbing him beside his right hip. “I’ll tell her you offered to give her to me, if I’d only let you live.”

He twisted the blade, and Grigori howled.

This time, he let Grigori fall.

He landed on his face, driving the knife further into his gut, but there was nothing Grigori could do to arrest his fall. His arms refused to respond to even the simplest command, and his body was convulsed with pain.

“I think she’ll like that,” Alistair mused, putting his boot on the back of Grigori’s head and grinding his face into the road. “I know that I’ll like living in your estate, banging the girl who was supposed to be your wife.”

He rolled Grigori over with his boot, and then tried to remove the knife from his gut, but the fall had driven it too deep into Grigori’s stomach for easy retrieval.

“I bet you never even got any,” Alistair said, putting his boot on Grigori’s stomach and gripping the handle with both hands. “Gabby claims to be a wait-until-marriage girl, and I believe her. Am I right?”

Alistair pulled. Grigori screamed his throat raw as Alistair struggled to retrieve the knife.

He finally prized the knife free, a gout of blood following its removal. Grigori moaned and whimpered, unable to even find the strength to cover the wound with his hands.

Alice stepped from a nearby shadow, pulling Rebecca along beside her.

“I swear to God, Alistair,” Rebecca said, “if you don’t get away from him—”

Alistair grinned at her as he cut Grigori’s throat.

It was hardly necessary.

He barely even bled.

“Fucking hell! You piece of shit,” Alice spat, reloading her revolver. “How many times am I going to have to kill you?”

“How many Auditors have you lost now?” Alastair asked, wiping his blade clean with a handful of Grigori’s hair. “I can personally account for Margot, Karim, this kid, and probably Michael. Oh, and Alex, for sure this time. Definitely Alex.”

“You are fucked in the head,” Rebecca said. “You used to be an Auditor!”

“That’s old shit,” Alistair said, taking the pistol from Grigori’s belt. “Let’s talk about what’s new. I’ve gotta be honest, this is hard for me. Really, it’s a difficult situation.”

Alice paused, giving Rebecca a worried glance. She could only respond with a shrug.

“I’m the type of guy to keep my private affairs private, and it’s hard for me to reach out to people, even people I’ve known for years, like you ladies.” Alistair gave them his most dazzling smile. “It’s important, though, so I’m going to brave the embarrassment and just ask. You’ll both be at the wedding, won’t you?”

Alistair put a bullet in Grigori’s head. Rebecca jumped and covered her ears.

“What the hell?” Alice stared at her revolver. “You asshole!”

“Relax! He was probably already dead,” Alistair said. “The invites are plus one, of course. Not that I expect you to take me up on that, Becca.” He winked at her. “You’re too damn picky to bring a date.”

“What are you talking about?” Rebecca asked. “What wedding?”

“We haven’t made it public yet, but I’m marrying Gabriela Thule,” Alistair bragged. “This kid was my rival, but as you can see—”

“Are you talking about Gaul’s secret niece?” Rebecca said coldly. “She’s sixteen, Alistair, by like a month.”

“I know.” Alistair leered. “Pretty great, right?”

“That’s fucking it,” Rebecca said. “Kill him, Alice. For real this time.”

Alice opened fire.

“Sorry, but my dance card is completely full,” Alistair said, laughing as every shot went just slightly wide. “My fiancé is a demanding bitch – please don’t tell her I said that – and I’ve got a few more loose ends to tie up. Say – neither of you knows a good florist in Central, do you?”

Alice dove into a nearby shadow.

She lunged out of a shadow behind him, but Alistair ducked beneath her arms and drove his elbow into her stomach, dropping Alice to her knees.

“You can’t keep me out of Alice’s head on your own, Becca,” Alistair said. “I know what she’s going to do before she even moves. Don’t make me hurt her.”

“Fuck you,” Alice snarled, pushing herself off the ground with shaky arms. “I don’t need—”

Alistair smacked her in the back of the head with his pistol.

“I’d love to have both of you at the wedding,” Alistair said, holstering the gun. “Feel free to bring Michael along, Alice, if you still remember who he is by then.”

Alice moaned and grabbed feebly at Alistair’s ankle.

He pulled away and walked over to Rebecca, putting a hand on her shoulder.

“Becca, I know I’m putting you on the spot, but I gotta ask,” Alistair said. “Would you be my best man? Best person? I can’t think of anyone else that I truly care about, so it would mean the world to me. Besides, you’ll get along great with Gabby. She’s an empath, too.”

“I get along with everyone, and we aren’t done here,” Rebecca said, brushing off his hand. “Have you lost your mind?”

“I’m going to take that as a tentative ‘yes’,” Alistair said, patting her on the head before turning to leave. “I’ve got to be moving on, but I’m sure we’ll see each other soon.”

He pointed at the Horrors clustered around the Main Library and the weird radiance emanating from inside. An inhuman scream rose above the din of the assembled Horrors, reaching a crescendo that dried the eyes and made teeth ache. A limp and deflated Horror tumbled from the sky, drifting gently to the ground like a dead leaf.

“You really should do something about all that,” Alistair said, downloading an apport protocol from the Network. “Don’t look so down, Becca! We’ve got enemies in common again. I might even do you a favor.”

Rebecca helped Alice up, glaring at Alistair all the while.

“This isn’t over,” Rebecca said, pulling Alice’s arm over her shoulders. “I’m not forgiving you for anything.”

“That’s fine. Do try to think of some nice things to say about me for the toast,” Alistair said, arranging an apport with his downloaded protocol. “At the wedding. Because I’m getting married. Crazy, right? Even I never thought I was the type.”

Alistair chuckled, and then he was gone.

Alice brushed away Rebecca’s attempts to help her, preferring to lean on the nearby building.

“What the hell was that?”

“I have no idea,” Rebecca said slowly. “But that’s the first time I’ve ever seen Alistair actually having fun.”

“Is Grigori…?”

“Yeah. He’s gone.”

“I fucking hate Alistair,” Alice said. “I’ve never…”

“Yeah, I know,” Rebecca said. “God, don’t I know it.”

***

The gate opened.

Daniel Gao stood on the other side, his arm and neck spattered with blood, a remote control in his hand.

The Black Sun filed into the Thule estate unopposed, hardly sparing a glance for the dead guards manning the gate.

***

“I think we are ready,” Adel said, wiping the sweat from his forehead. “We can send you whenever you want. I still don’t understand how Eerie did it, but we don’t seem to need a destination station. I can send you anywhere.”

“Nice work, Adel dear,” Emily said, patting him on the head. “You’re a lifesaver!”

The technician blushed and muttered self-depreciations.

Mitsuru tossed Alex his kit bag, and then stood beside him on the platform.

“Are you ready?”

“I’m not sure,” Alex admitted. “I don’t really know what we are doing.”

“It’s always the same in the field,” Mitsuru said. “We do what we have to, so that we can come home alive. You understand?”

He nodded. Emily had finished talking to Adel, and was deep in conversation with Eerie instead, their heads nearly touching as they whispered to each other by the doorway. Vivik stood nearby, looking uncertain.

“I get it.”

“Do you?” Mitsuru looked at him seriously. “I saved your life, once. Do you remember that?”

“I’ve never forgotten,” Alex said. “And I don’t think it was the only time.”

“That means you owe a debt to me,” Mitsuru said. “You have to do whatever I say, in return.”

“Okay.”

“I’m ordering you to come back alive,” Mitsuru said, looking straight forward with her bloodshot eyes, as if he were not just beside her. “No matter what.”

“Okay.”

“I’m serious, Alex.”

“Hey, me too. I’m not planning on dying today. Just…you do the same, alright? I’ve lost you once, Miss Aoki.”

“I don’t remember being lost,” Mitsuru responded severely. “And I don’t owe you a thing.”

He stood there with his mouth hanging open for several long seconds. Mitsuru finally cracked just a hint of a smile.

Alex laughed, while Eerie smiled uncertainly.

“Are we all ready?” Emily called out, joining them on the platform. “Anyone have any inspiring words they’d like to share?”

“You’re in charge,” Leigh said. “You do the inspiring.”

“Oh, very well. I love all of you, and I think you’re magnificent.” Emily looked at each of them in turn with her moist, sparkling eyes. “I expect great things from you, and I expect you all to return here without a scratch. I believe in you, so don’t let me down, okay?”

Emily laughed.

Adel activated the apport station.

***

“The Main Library?” Rebecca fixed her ponytail for the third time. “I don’t know. I think I’m more concerned about whatever Alistair is up to. Do you have a fix on his position?”

“I lost him,” Hayley said, her eyes shut tight and a scowl on her face. “I can’t get a fix on anything.”

“What the hell is the matter, Hayley? You’re supposed to be my field telepath.”

“You can feel it just as well as I can,” Hayley said. “There’s something very wrong going on near the Main Library. Something big and awful, and I can’t pick out anything else, in all that noise and misery.”

“Shit,” Rebecca said. “That’s another problem that I do not need. We let Alistair slip away, God knows when we get another shot at him.”

There was no need for Rebecca to look over her Auditors. She could feel the weight of their shifting emotions, as fear and grief gave way to analgesic rage.

“Grigori was an okay guy,” Hayley said, not looking in the direction of the body, which was laid out on the sidewalk and covered by a purloined sheet. “We can’t let this go.”

“Don’t I fucking know it,” Rebecca said. “Thing is, we don’t know where to find Alistair, and even if we did, I’m not sure that’s a fight we can win.”

“He killed Grigori,” Hayley said, rubbing her reddened eyes. “Are you really going to let him get away with that?”

“I can feel what’s happening at the Main Library, same as you,” Rebecca said, resting her hand on Hayley’s shoulder. “We can’t just ignore whatever that is, however much we might want to.”

“Let’s do something,” Alice remarked, glancing at the covered body without a hint of interest. “No point in just standing around.”

“It’s been a bad day,” Hayley said. “I’m not sure.”

“I don’t want to lose anyone else, and jumping into the middle of whatever the hell is happening at the library is just asking for something bad to happen.” Rebecca shrugged. “Leaving it be pretty much guarantees that something bad happens.”

“Something bad already happened,” Min-jun said. “All that’s left is to respond.”

“Don’t lecture me, you sanctimonious brat,” Rebecca said, ruffling Min-jun’s hair. “Okay. Let’s go check it out.”

Chike?

Ready and waiting, Rebecca.

Alice and I will go first and scout around. I want you to collect Hayley and Min-jun, plus Grigori’s…and Grigori. Bring them back to base and get ready to redeploy on my mark.

Hayley put her hand on Rebecca’s arm.

“If you find Alistair, don’t kill him without us,” Hayley said. “We deserve a shot at him.”

“Don’t be stupid,” Alice snapped. “Alistair isn’t the kind of guy you play around with. If you have a shot to kill him, and you’re very confident it’ll work, then you take it. Otherwise, you run. Grigori isn’t the first Auditor he’s killed.”

“Oh, I know,” Hayley said. “We are all very aware.”

Alice put out her hand, and Rebecca took it.

“See you soon, kids,” Rebecca said, following her into the forest shadows. “See you soon.”

***

Egill waited for them in the courtyard in a rain jacket and black rubber knee boots. He looked calm and somewhat damp. His hands were empty.

Anastasia stepped forward, ahead of her retainers, maintaining perfect balance in her heels despite the gravel.

“Welcome to our home,” he said, with a gallant bow. “I am Egill Johannsson of the Thule Cartel. My uncle sends his regards. Unfortunately, he is indisposed at present. To be completely frank, he pleaded with the family to leave last night, but as he is currently in bed, delirious with fever, he is in no position to enforce that order.”

Anastasia cast aside her veil, to reveal furious eyes and mascara ruined by tears.

“Do you know who I am, boy?”

“You are Anastasia Martynova, of the Black—”

“I am death,” Anastasia said. “I have come for your family, boy. Do you want to run? Do you want to warn them? Go, then, if you like. It will change nothing.”

“I’m fine where I am. In fact, I’m intrigued,” Egill said, peeling off the leather gloves he wore and dropping them to the gravel. “I’m told you have a very unique talent, Lady Martynova, one that has been kept a closely guarded secret.”

“Yes,” Anastasia said. “Shall I show it to you?”

“I’d appreciate that,” Egill said, walking toward them. “A demonstration will make it easier to use, once it’s mine.”

***

The apport left them in a jumble on the grass just outside of the Main Library, far closer than was intended.

The library wall they stood beside toppled before they had even finished dusting themselves off, raining bricks and concrete down on them. Mitsuru activated a downloaded barrier protocol, which absorbed the worst of it.

“Hey,” Alex said, brushing brick dust from his hair. “What’s that?”

Before anyone could respond, a tumescent monster burst from the gaping hole in the library wall like a two-story scarecrow, steam venting from protrusions along its distended spine. The monstrosity screamed like an angry gull and wriggled fingers that were bladed like hedge trimmers.

“I am Mrs. Gimble, a Representative of the Church of Sleep,” it proclaimed, a booming voice emerging from a chest that was mostly rags and bones and feathers. “You will be purged/corrected.”

Mrs. Gimble hopped and scuttled across the debris like a spider across the bathroom floor.

“Holy shit,” Alex said, watching fearfully. “Is that thing the Church of Sleep?”

“No, dummy,” Leigh said, pointing at the towering white monstrosity that emerged from the Main Library like a contoured porcelain cancer. “That’s the Church.”

They all stared for as long as their eyeballs could stand the pain, the Church deepening like an abscess on the soft internal tissue of reality. The air boiled around the Church’s nonexistent boundaries, and the immeasurable dimensions of the structure blotted out even the horizon.

“Oh. I uh…I get the feeling there’s not a lot we can do about that.”

“Yeah,” Leigh said, her voice quieting as the Representative charged toward them. “I think you got that part right.”

***

Anastasia stood in the gravel driveway in all-black everything, as composed and still as any marble statue, her servants arrayed at a short distance, beside the gate of the Thule ancestral manor. Egill Johannsson stopped short of her, and their eyes met.

Nothing happened for a moment.

“Go ahead, boy. Do whatever you came to do,” Anastasia said. “My servants will not interfere. Or have you lost your courage already?”

“Sorry. I didn’t realize you were in such a hurry to die.”

Egill raised his hands and sent a telekinetic battering ram in her direction. Gravel flew and a bare maple tree next to the drive was torn from the ground and upended, thin roots reaching toward the faded blue sky. The manor shook and the grass swayed.

The wave of force passed through her, but not even a strand of Anastasia’s hair was put out of place, even as the driveway around her was obliterated.

“Impossible,” Egill said. “So, it is true, then. Brennan was right to be obsessed with you, wasn’t he? Tell me – were you always this way, or did you change, down in the waters below this place?”

“I am not here for conversation,” Anastasia asked. “Shall I begin?”

***

The monster looked to Alex like a horrible puppet, with narrow, grasping fingers, elongated limbs, and exaggerated features. Its gigantic form creaked as it moved; the fluted skeletal structure across which the creature’s flesh was draped seemed to be under tremendous strain, as if its own bulk were too great a burden to bear.

It looked at them, a thousand facets gleaming from spider eyes that protruded on stalks out of a skull that had an almost avian cast. Skin was stretched intermittently across the bones or layered in thick grey rolls that rippled across its belly, intercut with yellow-pink ribbons of blubber. Talons of dark metal protruded from unevenly distributed fingers and toes, grafted or implanted into the tissue, which was septic and weeping.

“The Changeling,” the monster hissed, turning innumerable eyes on Alex. “Where is it?”

Alex just stared, frozen by the same base and instinctual terror that caused him to flinch and panic at the touch of a spider. He could only watch in helpless terror as the monster carved a path through the wreckage of the library.

Rebecca grabbed him and pulled him back by his shoulders.

“Come on,” she said. “We need to get out of here!”

“What is that?”

“That was Representative Gimble of the Church of Sleep,” Rebecca said, leading him away from the wrecked library. “Whatever that means.”

He was too confused to formulate an argument.

Alice Gallow stepped from the shadow cast by a semi-intact wall on the library’s second floor, above and beside the Mrs. Gimble, blasting it twice in the back of the head with a pump-action shotgun.

Leigh tore strips from the monsters ragged legs with her claws, while Mitsuru dowsed it with flame from a downloaded protocol.

The Representative lashed out with her scissor fingers, shredding the concrete ledge, but Alice dove back into the shadow, disappearing a moment before the room was torn to pieces. A second swipe sent Leigh flying, while Mitsuru dove out of view, somewhere in the wreckage.

“What are you doing here, Alex?”

“Same thing as you.”

“No way,” Rebecca said. “You shouldn’t be here. You should be with Eerie, somewhere safe.”

“This is my problem to fix,” Alex said. “Wait a minute. Where is Eerie?”

“Was she with you? I didn’t see her.”

“Fuck! She was right next to me a minute ago,” Alex said, suddenly unsure. “Wasn’t she? She was on the platform, with all of us. Emily and everybody…”

“What are you talking about? I didn’t see Emily either.”

“Oh, shit. They were talking, before the apport. We didn’t all go to the same place, did we?”

“I’m not sure,” Rebecca said. “I don’t know exactly what Eerie can do, if she puts her mind to it.”

“I don’t…I mean, she wouldn’t…” He trailed off, looking at the impossibility of the Church of Sleep, stretching into the grey sky of Central and presumably continuing into infinity. “Eerie must have gone to the Church on her own. Don’t you think? It has to be that, doesn’t it?”

He tried to pull free of Rebecca’s grip.

“Alex, what the hell are you going to do? You’ll just get yourself killed!”

Rebecca dragged him further away, but Alex could not take his eyes from the terrible uniformity of the Church.

Mrs. Gimble freed itself from the wreckage of the library, and made for them on its massive, creaking legs.

Alice stepped out of its shadow, appearing between the monster’s crude feet. She put a solid slug into each knee, slipping back into the shadow before the Representative could react.

The monster stumbled, leaking black fluid down the lower half of both legs, but it did not fall.

“Do you think I could…?”

“Let’s not find out,” Rebecca said. “We’ll pull back and figure it out, okay?”

He allowed himself to be led in a daze. Rebecca took him into the nearby woods, the scent of the pines undercut by the increasing smoke that poured from the burning library. She tossed him beneath a tree, where he collapsed, unable to calm his reeling brain or his racing heart.

“Cut it out,” Rebecca said, bending to flick his forehead. “You’re bugging me.”

Alex gasped as a flood of dopamine hit his system, obliterating his fear like a tsunami scouring an unshielded coast.

Alice stumbled out of the shadow of a big Douglas fir a moment later, gasping as she tossed her empty shotgun aside.

“That did not go well,” Alice said, inspecting a deep gash in her shoulder. “Whatever it is, it doesn’t seem to mind being shot.”

“I noticed that,” Rebecca said. “We need Xia, but that monster seems to fuck with telepathy. I can’t get the channel up or get a fix on his Etheric Signature. I know he’s gotta be close, but…”

“Well, we need somebody’s help.”

“I need you to go back to the Academy, okay?” Rebecca grabbed Alex’s arm. “Find Michael. Find Gerald Windsor. Shit, I don’t care, find Lord North. Anybody at all. Get ’em here as fast as you can. Got it?”

“No way,” Alex said. “I’m staying. I need to find Eerie and take care of the Church.”

“Not a chance,” Rebecca said. “I don’t want to lose you, kiddo. Find help, okay?”

Alice took his hand and smiled, and Alex was too frightened to object.

“You heard the boss,” Alice said, tugging him into the forest shadows. “We are gone.”

They stepped from behind the trunk of an old oak tree and onto one of the footpaths of the Academy, not far from the Administrative building.

“Find us help,” Alice said. “Don’t die.”

Then she was gone, before he could have said anything, had he been brave enough.

Which he was not.

Alex turned toward the Administrative building and made a hurried review of where the lights were still on. It was a big building, after all, and he had no time to lose, running around empty hallways and offices.

He did not hear a thing, but a fraction of a second before he was kicked in the back, Alex was certain that he was no longer alone.

***

Anastasia took two steps forward and lifted her umbrella like a rapier.

Egill raised a violet barrier, text in an unknown language orbiting him in concentric circles.

Anastasia stepped through the barrier effortlessly and drove the tip of her umbrella into Egill’s chest.

His eyes widened. She frowned.

The umbrella became solid, displacing a fountain of viscera from his chest.

Egill cried and stumbled, clutching the gaping wound in his chest. Anastasia followed him.

A wall of fire erupted from the gravel, barring her progress.

When the flames died down, Lóa Thule stood beside Egill, with braces clamped to her legs and canes in both hands. Gaul Thule sat behind them in a wheelchair, his head heavily bandaged. Mateo Navarre stood with his hand on handles of the wheelchair, while Courtney Lede pushed a trauma patch onto the chest of Egill. All around them were the remnants of the Thule Cartel, a motley collection of about forty individuals, made up of young and old cousins, recent recruits from the Academy, longtime retainers, and family allies.

“What a pathetic lot,” Anastasia said. “Do you not have something more formidable to offer? I am content to wait, if it will help you put on a better showing.”

“This is our home, Lady Martynova,” Gaul said quietly. “You are not welcome here.”

“You should have thought of that before you invaded my home,” Anastasia said. “I see nothing but heads before me, waiting to be severed. Collect them for me, beloved servants. Leave none to mourn their deaths.”

The Black Sun Operators surged forward, and the carnage began immediately.

Lord Gao leapt across the drive in three steps and crashed bodily into the Thule front line, followed closely by Donner and Blitzen. Renton launched a swarm of telepathic remote attacks and defensive routines, crowding the psychic battlefield as he opened fire with his MP7, spraying the Thule Operators with high-velocity rounds. Matheus and Ksenia used his fire as cover to advance, moving to flank. Simeon stood beside Anastasia and Mai, his barrier shielding them from Thule fire.

A telekinetic strike tore through the front line, crushing and maiming combatants of both sides. Ksenia unleashed her Poltergeist Protocol, and the debris from the telekinetic strike was immediately weaponized, battering the Thule forces with barrages of nails, gravel, and chunks of concrete. Egill activated his stolen barrier, absorbing the worst of it, but the damage was still immense.

The conflict snarled and twisted, as the general conflict broke down into individual skirmishes.

A Thule sniper took aim at Anastasia from atop the manor roof, only to lock eyes with Mai. He walked clumsily to the edge of the roof and then hesitated, gnashing his teeth and tearing at his hair, before leaping to land headfirst on the stone steps below.

Lord Gao was enveloped in flame from a pyrokine as he tore through Thule forces, the vampire burning like he had been coated in paraffin. Donner bore down on the pyrokinetic, carrying him to the ground and tearing out his throat.

Grenades sent shrapnel indiscriminately through the battle, a fragment tearing through the back of Matheus’s leg and causing him to drop Benjamin Thule, who he had nearly throttled. Egill grabbed Matheus’s arm and telekinetically severed it at the shoulder. He wrapped his hands around Matheus’s neck, but then was taken down by a charge from Blitzen. Egill only saved his throat by jamming his forearm into the slobbering mouth of the Weir.

An abrupt darkness descended on the field of battle, and then was just as abruptly dispelled.

Flames broke out on the fighters’ clothing, and then disappeared without consuming the fabric. The sun dimmed, and then brightened, and the sky was split by flashes of lightning that had no preceding thunder.

Mai Quan and Mateo Navarre engaged in a ferocious staring contest, raising and dispelling telepathic illusions while the battle raged about them, secure behind respective barriers.

Renton cut Benjamin Thule’s throat, and then tossed the boy aside to bleed to death.

Egill telekinetically flayed the Weir atop him, invisible force peeling the skin from its bones.

Ksenia took a bullet in the leg from a concealed shooter using the manor porch for cover, and then Daniel Gao appeared behind the gunman and hacked him down with his machete.

Renton advanced on the barrier that protected Gaul Thule, his eyes locked on Lóa.

Simeon grimaced as his barrier was battered by gunshots and flame and telekinesis, but he held firm even as the color drained from his face, a nanite patch pressed to his flushed neck. Rivulets of sweat poured down Mai’s face and veins burst in her eyes as she contended with Mateo.

Lóa faltered, and was caught by Courtney Lede.

Renton turned his attention to Egill, attacking him telepathically while he attempted to gut him with his knife. Egill fought him off desperately, catching the point of the knife twice with a barrier just before it would have cut him. Renton ducked a telekinetic strike, and then evaded another, stabbing Egill in the shoulder. Egill brushed him aside telekinetically, but the barrier that protected Gaul and Lóa flickered, and then disappeared entirely.

Egill lashed out in desperation, a massive bolt of force that scorched the atmosphere as it came hurtling down onto the Black Sun forces. Simeon moaned and dropped to one knee, but the barrier held.

Daniel Gao stepped out of nowhere to bury his blade in the back of Lóa Thule’s neck.

Renton got back to his feet, neatly avoiding a jet flame that Egill launched at him and then knocking him down with a left hand to the jaw. Courtney Lede screamed as Donner dragged him to the ground, all pink teeth and slavering jaws. Simeon swayed and then collapsed, bleeding profusely from the nose and ears as his barrier disintegrated.

Anastasia marched forward, and Mai followed slowly along behind her.

Mateo Navarre looked around apprehensively, and then disappeared.

Renton seized Egill by his neck and smashed his forehead into Egill’s nose. He pushed his knife into Egill’s belly, and it went in so smoothly it was like returning it to an oiled holster. Egill cried out pitifully and his head fell on Renton’s shoulder, blood dripping from his broken nose.

Renton stabbed him again and again, until the tip of the knife broke off against Egill’s pubic bone and the blade stuck in a mess of intestine and severed tendons.

Anastasia seized Gaul by his thin shoulders and threw him, sending him crashing through the manor wall, his bones breaking against the masonry and wood.

Anastasia followed him, shaking with rage and weeping.

“I thought that we understood each other.”

“I understood you,” Gaul said, pulling himself slowly from the rubble. “That is why I did what I did.”

Anastasia dragged her umbrella through the exterior wall as she walked, and the wall tore and fractured. She cut through one supporting column after another, and the roof of the manor began to list, the whole structure groaning alarmingly. She whipped her umbrella through the corner of the house, just above where Gaul lay, and the whole wall gave way.

The house fell in, burying them in rubble.

“You were a fool to turn on me,” Anastasia said, not even the dust settling on her black dress. “That betrayal cost you everything. Why did you do this?”

She reached her arm into the wreckage and fished around briefly, her arm passing through stone and wood with ease. She pulled Gaul from the rubble by his collar and dragged him to the entrance, draping his body across the wreckage of the porch of his ancestral manor.

She leaned in close, to make certain he was still breathing, and was surprised to find his eyes open behind the broken lenses of his glasses.

“I had to do it,” Gaul whispered. “I’m sorry for what I’ve done, and for what is still to come, but it was the only way to stop you. You will fail, Anastasia. Central will never be yours. You will see. You will understand.”

“I loved my father,” Anastasia said, pushing the tip of her umbrella into his chest. “But I will dedicate your death to my poor beloved Pascha, who deserved better than a death by your petty scheming.”

The umbrella sank intangibly through his chest and into the rubble he lay prone upon.

Gaul Thule opened his mouth, but nothing except for a trickle of blood came out.

Anastasia let go of her umbrella and it became a solid reality in Gaul Thule’s chest.

Tissue was displaced and bone was splintered to accommodate the new mass. His body shook and deformed.

Donner streaked past Anastasia as she wiped her hands on her skirt, the Weir intent on worrying the throat of the dead man.

She stumbled slightly, walking from the manor, but then Renton was beside her, offering his arm and stability. Anastasia clung to him gratefully, barely able to remain upright.

“Their heads, Renton,” Anastasia said, leaning on him heavily. “I want all of them, for my father’s grave. Burn the bodies. I want nothing left for their burials.”

“You got it,” Renton said. “I’ll make certain it is done.”

Her surviving retainers gathered at the gate of the ruined Thule estate, forming an honor guard around her as Renton led her to an intact wing of the manor, discreetly supporting and guiding her.

Mai was arguing with medical attendants, insisting that she required no aid, despite the jagged white edge of a splintered femur that protruded from her leg. Daniel Gao stood nearby his sister while she ranted at the medics, meticulously cleaning the blood from his hands with a purloined towel.

Neither remarked on their adopted father, Lord Gao, burnt to charcoal and covered by rubble, amid the ruin of the minimalist garden. Not far from the dead vampire, Blitzen lay in the dust beside the porch, broken as horribly as the masonry in which he was partially buried. Lord Gao was burnt to charcoal and covered by rubble, not far from the dead Weir, amid the ruin of the minimalist garden.

“See that they are brought back with us,” Anastasia murmured. “Blitzen to the family mausoleum, and Lord Gao to his family. With full honors.”

“Of course,” Renton said. “You don’t need to worry about a thing, Ana.”

“What about Simeon and Matheus?”

“We lost them,” Renton said. “Sorry, Ana. I’ll see that their remains are gathered.”

They were nearly to the car when Daniel Gao ran up to them and dropped to his knees beside Anastasia.

“My apologies, Mistress,” he said, putting his head almost on the ground. “You were left to claim your own revenge.”

Renton wanted to push past him, a snarl on his lips, but Anastasia came to a halt, regarding her suitor.

“It is true that I dealt with Gaul Thule,” Anastasia said, doing enough to conceal her exhaustion that only Renton was aware of it. “I am not displeased, however, by my servants’ efforts. The battle was quite a distraction, but did I not see you kill Lóa Thule, my enemy, and the sister of the man who slew your father, young Lord Gao?”

Daniel Gao nodded without raising his eyes higher than Anastasia’s shoes.

“We have dead to bury and titles to bestow,” Anastasia said, raising her voice so that everyone in the small crowd of Black Sun retainers could hear her. “I would be remiss, however, if I did not address the death of the Thule Cartel, and what it means for you, those of my servants loyal and wise and skilled enough to have seen it done beside me.”

They all waited in still and respectful silence while the Mistress of the Black Sun gathered herself.

“Everyone who aided in this effort will be rewarded. No kindness will be forgotten in our victory, as no insult was forgiven in our vengeance. I will see all debts paid, and all accounts settled. With that in mind, Daniel Gao, if you please.”

Anastasia gestured to Daniel, who moved forward, standing before her in clothing still spattered with gore from the field.

“You succeeded in completing my request, at least in part, Daniel,” Anastasia said thoughtfully. “You dedicated yourself persistently to your task, and you had greater success than any of my servants.”

“I fell short of my mark, Mistress. I meant to present Gaul Thule’s head to you on a platter.”

“You did well nonetheless. You put an end to Lóa Thule, the architect of the plot that took the lives of my father, and my brother, and so many other dear friends.”

Daniel Gao made no reply.

“As you said, however, you left Gaul Thule to my servants and I, despite your best efforts, and thus fall short of matrimony,” Anastasia said, looking him over speculatively. “You understand, of course.”

“Yes, Mistress,” Daniel said. “I understand completely. I do not deserve such honor.”

“Perhaps. But you deserve a promotion, at least, I would think.” Anastasia pinched her lip, then slowly nodded. “Yes, I think it will do, young Lord Gao. Are you prepared to become my steward, and my representative to the Assembly?”

“Of course,” Daniel bowed. “I would be honored.”

“Yes. Being a woman of propriety, there is little else that I can say in this public venue.”

Daniel Gao gave her an uncertain look, and she forced herself to smile, because he deserved it.

“You must still prove to me that you are capable, Daniel. I also believe we have a great deal to learn about each other. However, if you are so inclined as to attempt a courtship, Lord Gao, then I would not reject your entreaties out of hand,” Anastasia said. “As far as that goes.”

Daniel Gao gave her a sudden, sharp nod, but no words at all.

“I will thank all of you more fully and appropriately when we have returned to my estates and my family is laid to rest,” Anastasia said, taking Renton’s arm for support. “Search the estate thoroughly. Interrogate them, but leave no one alive.”

Renton led her inside the damaged manor, guiding her carefully around broken floorboards and collapsed walls. He took her down an undamaged hallway, Black Sun troops running ahead to clear the rooms. He followed the staff to the end of the hall, to a study that had survived the conflict unscathed, save for a shattered window.

Renton laid Anastasia on a couch. He closed the door, pulled the curtains closed, and then found a throw pillow to prop up her head. He took off his jacket and covered her with it, and then sat on the floor beside the couch.

“You are upset,” Anastasia said quietly. “Is it because I gave your job to Daniel?”

“I hated that job,” Renton said. “I’m no diplomat. It’s a relief.”

“Then perhaps you are disappointed that I did not announce our engagement?”

“Sure, but that’s the sort of disappointment that I’m used to,” Renton said, forcing a good humor he did not feel. “I try and be at least a little realistic.”

“I would have done it, Renton. I want you to know that, propriety and station be damned. If you had killed Gaul for me.”

He was acutely aware of the sound of the wind whistling through the broken window, the curtain rattling against the window frame. He could hear the footsteps of the Black Sun Operators on the floor above, the crunch as doors were kicked in and the faint shouts as rooms were cleared.

“You were the only one who I thought really might be able to do it,” Anastasia said, closing her eyes. “You were the only one I took seriously.”

Renton tried to laugh, but nothing happened. His face felt stiff and inflexible, like his features had been replaced with an immobile plaster cast.

“So, what then? You just marry Daniel Gao because he finished off Lóa?”

“Not necessarily, but he deserves consideration. Unless you think that I should marry you out of gratitude for killing Egill Johannsson?”

“No. I don’t deserve it,” Renton said. “You didn’t have to fire me, though.”

“I didn’t just fire you,” Anastasia said. “I’m firing you and demoting you.”

Renton said nothing, staring at her helplessly. She cracked one eye to glare at him.

“What are you doing just sitting there on the floor? Is there really nothing better that you could be doing?” Anastasia frowned. “You need to be more proactive if you want to be my bodyguard, Renton. It is a demanding job. Or have you lost your taste for it?”

“No,” he said, standing quickly. “No. I haven’t.”

“I would have done it, if you had taken his head for me,” Anastasia said, settling back and again and closing her eyes. “You failed, however, and that failure left me with few options that allow you to spend your days where you belong. You should show some appreciation for the effort I put into keeping you at my side. You are the most troublesome of my servants, Renton.”

He fixed his hair and straightened his suit in the mirror, doing the best to hide the bloodstains on his shirt and cuffs.

“I understand, Ana,” he said, heading for the door. “Sorry to cause you so much trouble.”

“You should be sorry,” she said crossly, yawning. “You only get away with it because I am so terribly fond of you.”

Thirty

Day Seven

“I should have known you weren’t dead,” Alex said, rising slowly with a hand on his back. “Can’t say I’m upset, though. I wanted to take care of you myself.”

He took a step toward Alistair and nearly tripped over a body. A woman with red hair, dressed for the field, a rifle in her limp hands. Her throat had been cut.

Alex did not recognize her, but he recognized one of the other bodies.

A science teacher from the Academy that Vivik had introduced him to, once upon a time. He could not remember his name, but his Van Dyke facial hair was instantly recognizable.

There were more bodies. One bore the distinctive face paint the Black Sun favored, while another had a vaguely familiar face. The rest Alex did not recognize.

“You’ve been busy,” Alex said.

“Just killing time. I stumbled across the Black Sun troops when I first got here. That patrol out of Central showed up a little later. The ginger I think was just trying to get across campus.” Alistair smirked. “Life’s shit, ain’t it?”

“Don’t worry about it,” Alex said. “Yours is nearly over.”

“Am I supposed to be afraid? No matter what the Changeling told you, this is going to go the exact same way as last time,” Alistair said, tossing his knife nonchalantly from one hand to the other. “Unless you have any friends hiding around here that I need to kill first?”

“I haven’t forgotten about Margot,” Alex said. “I have more important things to do, but what the hell.”

The air grew cold as he spoke, the lawn was withered by a sudden frost, ice collecting on the corpses scattered about them.

“It is such a cute little trick,” Alistair said. “No local Ether, no protocols. But what does that change? I don’t need telepathy to kill you, Alex. I’m going to take a lot more than an eye and a few fingers, this time.”

Alistair glanced around.

“Where is your girlfriend anyway? I almost feel sorry for her,” Alistair said. “She’s in for a rough time. The Church only cares if she’s alive.” Alistair rolled up his sleeves. “Do you want to know what I’m going to do to her, once you’re gone?”

“You won’t be around to do anything,” Alex said. “Bastard.”

He activated the Absolute Protocol, willing a deep tear into the Ether.

Alistair grinned and waited, his hands in pockets.

Nothing happened.

“Anything else you wanted to say?” Alistair laughed. “Nothing? Too bad. You were being such a tough guy a second ago.”

Alex tried desperately to activate his protocol but could not feel the mechanism in his mind at all.

It was as if it had disappeared, leaving him reaching into an empty space.

“If you’re done, then I do have something I’d like to share,” Alistair said, raising his hand. Shining Cloud.

Alex had time to blink.

Then he was eviscerated by a million tiny razors.

There was blood and agony. The blades tore through him on a cellular level, slicing skin and bone and organ with equal ease. His extremities were reduced to a spray of a gore, while his head and torso were perforated, punctured, and severed all the way down to his skull and teeth.

He felt each new path the flechettes pioneered through his viscera.

It was pure and perfect suffering, unimpeded by any outside awareness or concern.

Alex laughed, or he would have laughed, if he had an intact diaphragm and unpunctured lungs, and a mouth to laugh through.

Except he did, because his body was entirely intact.

The scene reverted instantly. Alistair stood in front of Alex, frowning and looking somewhat offended.

“That mind-trick shit won’t work on me,” Alex said. “You’ll have to fight me for real.”

“I can do that,” Alistair said, drawing his knife. “You’ve caught my interest, though, resisting my telepathy. How’d you learn to do that?”

“Time-dilated psychic torture from a Yaojing in the Outer Dark,” Alex said. “How does anyone learn anything?”

“Funny,” Alistair said. “Samnang Banh did a real number on you, I guess.”

“I’m starting to think that maybe that was the point.”

“If you think that Yaojing was trying to help you, then you are even stupider than your reputation,” Alistair said, moving closer. “She isn’t even human, you know?”

“Whatever,” Alex said, taking a neutral, flexible stance. “I’m used to that.”

Alistair smirked as he moved, closing the space between them with impeccable footwork, each step putting Alex in a worse position.

“You don’t say,” Alistair said, taking a short knife from a sheath on his belt. “I was thinking the same thing.”

Alex blinked hard, like it had suddenly gotten brighter.

Alistair feinted, thrusting high with the knife, and then moving toward Alex’s weak side when he tried to sidestep.

Alistair slashed at Alex’s stomach, not really committing, allowing Alex to leap back out of range.

Alex resumed circling, retreating as Alistair advanced.

“You don’t get it, do you?” Alex’s eyes shone like headlamps, wet with stimulants and exhaustion. “This won’t go the way it did before. I really want to kill you, this time.”

“Keep on talking,” Alistair said, making a first quick feint. “Might as well get it all out, since these are your last words.”

“My last words to you, maybe.” Alex grinned. “I’m ready this time.”

Alistair advanced suddenly, keeping the tip of his blade pointed at Alex’s navel. He thrusted and Alex parried, stepping inside of the strike and knocking his arm aside.

Alistair followed with a left jab that connected with Alex’s ear. He slashed Alex’s chest and the tip of the knife bounced off the ballistic shielding. Alex grabbed at his wrist, and Alistair stepped back, driving his elbow into the back of Alex’s neck, and then landing a knee on Alex’s stomach.

He grabbed Alex by his hair as he stumbled, pulling his head back.

Alistair unleashed a telepathic attack as he went for Alex’s exposed throat.

Alex grabbed Alistair’s arm and twisted, so that the knife only scored a deep line across his bicep. Alistair issued a telepathic command as he brushed Alex off him.

The Anathema took a quick step back with a curious look on his face.

“You’re getting it now, aren’t you?” Alex said, putting his hands up high. “I’ve expelled all the Ether from the local area. No protocols, no transformations. Just you and me.”

From the way Alistair’s eyes were distant for a moment, Alex guessed that he was confirming his words.

“So what?” Alistair said, resuming his stance, the point of the knife tracking Alex’s movements. “Remember the last time we did this? It ended badly for you.”

“I remember,” Alex said. “Believe me.”

“If there is no Ether, then you can’t use your protocol, either,” Alistair said, moving forward. “It’s just you and me and a knife, Alex, one more time.”

Alistair feinted with the knife and then connected with an uppercut that snapped Alex’s head back. He swiped the blade at Alex’s face, and Alex flitted to the side, throwing a low kick that Alistair shrugged off. Alex slipped a right cross and dipped sideways to avoid a thrust, but Alistair only feinted with his knife hand. Alex retreated clumsily, nearly tripping over his own feet as he changed direction. Alistair struck Alex’s knee with a solid front kick, and then followed with a short elbow and a quick swipe that drew blood from both of Alex’s forearms.

They disengaged and resumed circling. Alex’s breathing was ragged, and the shine had gone from his eyes.

“You’re still dead,” Alistair sneered. “You’re just going to die slower now.”

Alistair hopped forward and swung wildly, and Alex retreated and parried, absorbing more punishment while avoiding the worst of it. His forearms had been cut to pieces while in guard, and strips of skin dangled when he moved. His face was swollen and aching, and one of his eyes was already half-shut.

Alex tried to stay light on his feet and keep his hands up, his eyes always on the reddened blade in Alistair’s right hand.

They engaged suddenly, Alistair shuffling forward behind a flurry of feints and thrusts. Alex fell back before the dancing blade, parrying and slipping, eating punches and elbows to stay clear of the knife. He threw a cross that connected with the meat beneath Alistair’s ribs as he stepped back, which earned him a grunt and a thrust that nearly severed his left earlobe. He kicked Alistair in the shins, tried to roll with a punch that shunted his jaw to the side, and then leapt back, retreating hurriedly.

“Did you think it would be different?” Alistair asked, wiping the blood from his knife on his sleeve. “Did you think your little trick would put us on the same level?”

He lunged, and the tip of his knife slipped between ballistic plates to sink into Alex’s pectoral muscle. Alex cried out and jumped back, narrowly avoiding a slash that passed agonizingly close to his eyes.

“If you can’t learn from experience, then you might as well die,” Alistair said. “Way of the world, kid.”

Alistair advanced and Alex stumbled back.

Moving forward after a quick feint to the right, Alistair’s next lunge was so powerful that Alex was barely able to parry. Alex’s feet got twisted as he moved, and he tripped and fell to his knees, which just saved him from the blade that passed by his throat as he tumbled.

Alex rolled and braced himself for the frigid pain of the knife sliding into him.

The blade glanced off the ballistic plating on his back, cutting the harness instead.

Alex stepped clear, shedding the torn harness.

Alistair smiled and feinted left. Alex moved to the right and knew immediately that he had made a terrible mistake.

The knife sank into his side, and only stopped when Alex caught Alistair’s wrist with both hands. It felt as if he had stuck an icicle into Alex, and the agony was immense.

“Fucking kid,” Alistair said, cuffing him in the side of the head. “Just die already.”

Alex first thought that the sound was in his head, phantom audio caused by the trauma of the knife penetrating his side. Then Alistair jerked to the side like he had a fishhook caught beneath his arm, and Alex knew that it had been a gunshot.

Alistair ripped the knife out of Alex, and the pain was so great that he would have fallen over if Alistair had not caught him from behind. He pressed the blade to Alex’s throat, just hard enough to break the skin and spill blood down his neck.

Katya sat a little distance away on the rim of a nearby planter, bandaged and swollen, a matte pistol in her remaining hand. The scratches and staining on her knees and forearms made it clear that she had crawled part of the way to her position.

“I thought you were dead, assassin,” Alistair said pleasantly. “My mistake.”

“Let Alex go,” Katya suggested. “That will make it easier to kill you.”

“You’re not much of a negotiator,” Alistair said. “It would be rude not to make a counteroffer, I suppose. How about this? I slit his throat, and then take my time with you while he bleeds out.”

Katya took aim.

“You think you know everything,” Alex said, twisting in Alistair’s grip, heedless of the way the edge of the knife sliced his neck. “What makes you think I can’t use my protocol?”

He grabbed hold of Alistair’s ear and pulled. Alistair changed his grip on the knife.

Alistair stabbed him in the chest, and Alex felt the tip of the knife skitter along his ribcage. Alex’s fingertips brushed against Alistair’s cheek.

The Absolute Protocol activated like a well-oiled engine turning over.

Alistair’s head froze, hoary feathers of frost growing from his supercooled flesh, and crystals of ice protruding from his eyes and mouth. Alex pushed him aside, and he tumbled over. The knife clattered to the ground, and only then did Alex feel as if he might pass out.

Katya hobbled over, using the planter for balance.

“Holy shit! Are you okay? Is he…?”

“Let’s make sure,” Alex said, kneeling beside Alistair and putting his hands on his chest. “Give me a second.”

“Alex, your protocol. Don’t…”

He ignored her, closing his eyes.

He was careful with the breach. It had to be big enough for his purpose, but not so large as to cause a local calamity. The Absolute Protocol operated with slavish obedience, and he needed only a moment of focus and an ocean of resolve to expel most of Alistair’s chest and head into the Ether.

“Oh my God!” Katya exclaimed, starting back. “That is so gross!”

Alex had to agree. The remaining portion of Alastair’s body spasmed, expelling fluids from the severed torso. He flinched, but still got some of the gore on his hands.

“Fuck me,” Katya said, grabbing his shoulder. “Alex, do you know what you just did?”

Alex nodded wearily.

“I think so,” he said, pulling his ragged shirt over his head. “No one will miss him.”

“That was Alistair,” Katya said, helping him with the shirt. “The former Chief Auditor! You killed him, dummy. You know how many people have tried to do that and failed?”

“A lot, probably,” Alex said, allowing Katya to examine the shallow stab wound in his chest, and the deeper one in his side. “He was a dick, so...”

Alex sat down faster than he meant to, dropping onto his ass in the dirt.

“Everybody was afraid of that guy,” Katya said, sitting down beside him. “I can’t believe it! I guess you really are an Auditor now, huh?”

“I guess,” Alex said, lying down. “Am I going to die?”

“I don’t think so,” Katya said, looking him over. “I think he missed most of the important parts.”

“Most? That sounds bad.”

“It’s not that bad. All your organs are still on the inside. Nothing to worry about.” Katya gestured at the bodies scattered across the commons. “One of these bastards has to have been carrying a first aid kit. As soon as you feel better, you can find one, and I’ll get you patched up.”

Alex took the bottle from his pocket and swallowed two of the little blue footballs dry, the pills threatening to lodge in his throat and choke him for several seconds before he managed to force them down. His eyelids felt weighted, and each time he closed his eyes, the effort required to open them was greater.

He was drifting when he was startled back to awareness by a smack across the face.

Katya was kneeling over him, looking concerned.

“You can’t fall asleep,” she told him, shaking a can of antibiotic spray. “Remember?”

She sprayed about half the can on his side, and the combination of instant cold and pain had him writhing.

“Shit!” Alex shivered. “You could have warned me.”

“I had to crawl to get this. Be grateful. You were being so cool a minute ago,” Katya said, applying the rest of the spray to his various wounds. “Don’t ruin it by acting like a baby now.”

He was quiet while she finished the application.

“I was cool?”

“Pretty cool,” Katya confirmed, peeling a trauma bandage from its appliqué. “Consider me impressed. I didn’t even think an Anathema could be killed.”

“Marcus told me that nanites need Ether to do anything,” Alex explained, biting his lip as she applied the bandage. “No Ether, no protocols, but even better, no regeneration. I can kill them, Katya,” Alex said, the conviction in his voice causing her to pause. “I can kill all of the Anathema, if I have to.”

Katya looked at him strangely for a moment, then went back to treating his injuries. She had to tear the packages open with her teeth, and then slap the trauma patches across his injury with her remaining hand. Alex straightened and smoothed them after the pain of the application faded.

“Don’t talk like that, okay?” She pressed another patch to his chest. “I need at least one person I know not to be a complete psychopath.”

“It’s the truth,” Alex insisted. “I figured it out.”

“Did you? I’m impressed,” Katya said, painting liquid bandage on his shredded forearms. “I figured Emily had something to do with it.”

“She made some suggestions,” Alex said defensively. “But I figured out how to do it on my own.”

“Relax! I’m impressed, like I said.” Katya examined her work critically. “If you were older, and less goofy looking, and not my cousin, I’d probably be at least a little bit into you.”

“I’m a distant cousin. Just saying.”

“If you can make jokes, then you’re gonna live.” Katya glanced at the bloody rags on the grass beside him. “Your shirt, on the other hand, is a total goner. Let me see if I can find something in this kit bag I dragged over here…”

Katya searched clumsily through the bag while Alex watched, the exhaustion sinking into his bones, his mind drifting but not exactly toward sleep. He felt as if there were an enormous grey wall of clouds at the edge of his mind, waiting to roll in with the dusk.

“This might work,” Katya said, holding up a green T-shirt. “I’m not in love with the V-neck, but it’s better than having you walk around shirtless.”

“It’ll be fine,” Alex said, reaching for the shirt. His wounds immediately made him regret that decision. “We need to move.”

“Okay,” Katya said. “Where do we need to go?”

“How did you get here in the first place?”

“Marcus convinced me to come here,” Katya said. “He said you’d need my help.”

“He was right,” Alex said. “Thanks.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“I need to find Eerie, somehow,” Alex said, pulling the shirt on with one-handed assistance from Katya. “I need you to find Ms. Gallow and Ms. Levy. Tell them what’s going on and get them to come to the Main Library and help. Before we all die, if possible.”

Katya shook her head slowly.

“I don’t think I can do that,” Katya said, giving the bloody bandages at the end of her severed leg a rueful look. “I don’t think I can go anywhere. I can barely move my leg, and...”

Katya held up her left arm, which terminated at the wrist.

Alex found it difficult to meet her gaze.

“I’m so fucking sorry,” he said. “Thank you for saving me.”

“Just promise me you’ll be careful,” Katya said. “I don’t care what happens to me, but I need you to live through this.”

“I’m sorry for all of it, you know?” Alex gave her a woozy look. “For dragging you into…whatever. For your hand, and your leg. This is all on me, isn’t it? I did this.”

“I was starting to develop an improved opinion of you,” Katya snapped. “Don’t ruin it.”

“Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,” Katya said. “Just do better, okay? You need to get moving. Save Eerie. Make me proud.”

Alex stood slowly, feeling as if his head might just continue up into the clouds. His hands felt swollen and numb, and his ears rang and throbbed. Worse than the pain of his wounds was the feeling of separation, the awareness of severed tissue and muscle that plagued even his slightest movement.

“I think it’s getting worse,” Katya said. “You need to hurry.”

“How do you know?”

“The weird pink and green glow in the windows,” Katya said, pointing at the building. “Also, the building is on fire, with a big white tower coming out of the middle, and I’m pretty sure that the stone is singing, or something. It’s melodic, whatever it is, don’t you think?”

“Oh. Yeah,” Alex said. “That’s probably it, then. Will you be okay?”

“You don’t need to worry about me,” Katya said, waving him off. “Get going already!”

He started in the direction of the Main Library, moving as fast as Alex could limp.

Katya watched him go without comment.

She started searching bodies once he was out of sight, crawling from one to other and ignoring the persistent ache of her missing leg and the blood pooling in her bandages.

She rummaged through backpacks and searched pockets, doing her best to avoid the sticky pools of mostly dry blood.

It took four tries before she found what she was looking for.

A dead woman wearing a bindi and a colorful headscarf pulled tight across her wrinkled forehead had four shaped charges in her rucksack, along with a bag full of detonators and wiring. Katya emptied the bag of everything but the plastique and the detonators, and then slung it over her shoulder.

She grabbed the planter with her good hand and started to pull herself up.

Marcus appeared beside her and helped her stand, offering her a crutch with an apologetic look.

“I stopped by a hospital and grabbed this for you,” he said. “If you want it.”

“I don’t want it at all, but I think I need it,” Katya said, putting it beneath her arm. “Thanks.”

“Think nothing of it,” Marcus said. “Are we done, now that young Alex is safe?”

“He isn’t safe at all, but I’ve done what I could. The rest is up to him, and to Eerie,” Katya said, shaking her head. “I’m not done, either. Would you be willing to take me on one more trip?”

“I’d be happy to,” Marcus said. “Where do you have in mind?”

“Where I’d go if I were a Thule,” Katya said. “Take me back to the Far Shores, please.”

***

“That monster’s just standing there,” Rebecca said, watching from behind the tree line. “It hasn’t moved since Alex left.”

“So?” Alice finished loading her revolver with hollow points and then returned it to its holster. “What does that mean?”

“That thing is after Eerie, and maybe Alex, too,” Rebecca said. “Without either of them local, it’s either dormant, or…”

Rebecca closed her eyes, her face scrunching up as she concentrated.

“No such luck,” Rebecca said, a little rivulet of blood trickling from her nose. “It’s searching. A massive telepathic emanation. God, what power…”

“So it’s looking for something.”

“Alex isn’t far, and I think Eerie is inside of that…thing,” Rebecca said, pointing in the general direction of the Church, which was located in a direction that could not be pointed toward. “Trying to go unnoticed. If the Ether wasn’t all fucked up from the World Tree…oh, shit. Do you think Emily did this?”

“Do I think who did what?” Alice blinked uncertainly. “I’m not really coming up with much on some of these names.”

“Never mind. It’s really simple. That thing is looking for something,” Rebecca said, nodding at the Representative. “We can’t let it find whatever it’s looking for.”

“We got a million problems, Becca,” Alice said, peering over her shoulder at the ruined library, a strange glow emanating from the remaining windows of the structure, a colorful reflection of light that was otherwise invisible. “Is this our problem?”

“Yeah.”

“Is this our biggest problem right now?”

“I think so,” Rebecca said, biting her lip. “I really think this might be it.”

“Okay, then,” Alice said. “How do you want it handled?”

“Bring me my Auditors,” Rebecca said. “Mikey and Windsor, too. North, if you can find him. Get Chike to help. We’re gonna hit this thing with everything we’ve got.”

“Sure, I got it,” Alice said. “One question?”

“What is it?”

“Who the fuck are all those people you just mentioned?”

“Don’t worry about it,” Rebecca said, accessing the Network. “We’ll go together, okay?”

***

Mr. Crane was left without a body after the trick John Parson had pulled, displacing his Etheric form to a specific location, while casting his physical body into the Ether, but that was only a hindrance. The immediate area was full of raw material, and even if he preferred not to have to work with necrotic tissue, there was plenty of the active stuff about.

It was a miscalculation on John Parson’s part to have sent him here, Mr. Crane reflected, but that was not surprising. John Parson was broken. Poor reasoning was to be expected. John Parson had little time to react to the Representatives and had likely chosen a destination at random.

The Representative whispered incorporeally through the battlefield, indifferent to the carnage.

Soldiers walked among the bodies, offering medical aid to some and collecting the remains of others, but nearby, two young men were occupied severing the heads from another pile of the dead.

Wondering at and despising the strangeness of the world, Mr. Crane reviewed its options.

The obvious answer was right at hand.

He made directly for the most powerful potential host in the area, an exhausted young woman who was asleep on a couch in a ruined manor, conveniently located near where John Parson had sent him.

***

As he passed a light post on his way to the Main Library, the shape of the post changed, and Alex thought for a split-second that it was melting. The metal did not drip or pool onto the ground, however, but instead took upon the contours and dimension of a human being.

A short one. A girl.

A short girl in flowing, gilded robes, with characters inscribed down her cheeks, in two straight lines from her eyes.

The light post became Samnang, and the whole thing made his head hurt. Somehow, of all the insane things he had seen that day, this was the most exhausting.

“You do not need to be afraid,” Samnang said, straightening her hair as if she had not just been a light post. “I was thinking that perhaps I could do you a favor.”

“When did you…? Fuck! Don’t sneak up on me like that,” Alex said. “What do you want?”

“That’s a different issue,” Samnang said, standing beside him. “Let’s talk about what I might do for you.”

“I don’t want any favors from you,” Alex said. “I don’t like you, Samnang.”

“That’s a fine way to talk, considering that you are dating my sister.”

“What does it matter to you? You don’t know her at all!”

“Family is always the most important thing,” Samnang said, with dubious sincerity. “You are thinking about following Eerie, aren’t you? You will not find her without my help.”

Alex stared at the impossible white tower protruding from the decimated Main Library.

“You are trying to decide if you can trust me,” Samnang said. “You know that you can. We understand each other perfectly, don’t we?”

“Get out of my head already.”

“I will always be inside your head,” Samnang said. “That will never change. The bond forged between us can never be severed.”

“What bond? You tortured me! We aren’t close at all, okay? I hate you for what you did to me.”

“There are all sorts of bonds,” Samnang explained serenely. “Our link is deeper than petty affection. I am not wildly fond of you, either, but that is irrelevant. I have spent the equivalent of decades inside your petulant mind,” she said. “I have been inside of you, Alex Warner, and I am quite comfortable there.”

“Please stop talking about it like that,” Alex muttered. “You are making it so much worse.”

“There is no better or worse between us.”

“Stop!”

“Stop what? Helping you?” Samnang put a finger to her lips. “Wait, that’s not enough. Shall I stop saving you?”

“Saving me from what?” Alex gestured at the deserted campus. “There’s no one here!”

“Mrs. Gimble is searching for you as we speak,” Samnang replied. “If not for my intervention, she would have found you already. It required quite an effort on my part, and it won’t last. Which is why I think I will have to do you still another favor, for the sake of my sister, and my own sake.”

“You keep saying that,” Alex said. “What sort of favor?”

“You want to follow Ériu into her conception of the Church of Sleep,” Samnang said, inclining her head in the direction of the ruined library. “I can make that happen.”

“How?”

“The same way that Ériu did,” Samnang said. “My talents may be a shadow of my sister’s, but I am still Fey. It would not be a troublesome thing to revise our existences just slightly, so that we are there,” Samnang said, gesturing at the spire that had burst from the substrate of library like a mushroom from a nurse log, “instead of here. From an appropriate perspective, there is very little difference between the two.”

“Wait a minute. We?”

“We.”

“Why would you want to come?” Alex’s expression soured further. “Don’t you work for the bad guys?”

“You still do not understand the impact that you have, when you are intimate with one of my kind.”

“Please don’t make it sound so lewd. Someone will misunderstand.”

“You freed me from the control of the Church of Sleep, Alex,” Samnang said. “Inadvertently, I’m sure, but that hardly matters. I can do what I like for the first time since I was a child, and I happen to like it that way. I doubt that you knew what you were doing, but that does not change the value of what you have done.”

“That’s not entirely flattering, but never mind that,” Alex said. “I guess you’re grateful, but why would you go so far? Why come back to the Church at all?”

“I do not want the Church to subdue Ériu, for selfish reasons, and perhaps others as well. I suspect that the Church has not reckoned with you properly in their calculations. I doubt that they have considered the possibility that I might intervene on your behalf. This intrigues me.”

“I asked you why you wanted to help, not why it might work.”

“I have come to understand my sister’s affection for you,” Samnang said. “Fey are born in fetters, confined and doomed like fatted calves. Your protocol and presence strengthens and changes us.” Samnang sighed. “While it is not necessarily to my liking, I am inclined to be wherever you are. Even as far as coming here.”

“Oh. That’s…that’s, uh…”

She shocked him by blushing.

“You were persistent in asking. I was only being honest.”

“I get it. I just…don’t bring that up around Eerie, okay?”

“Why not? I would think she would be pleased to find that her beloved sister and her lover have become come.”

“We aren’t close,” Alex said, glaring at her. “I hate you.”

“You think of me often,” Samnang said. “I am still in your head. Even now I am inside of you.”

“Please stop saying it like that, I’m begging you.”

“We have both been changed by our interaction,” Samnang said. “It will make things easier if you accept that.”

“It would be easier on me if I knew what you were after.”

“Isn’t it obvious? Your protocol gave my sister the strength to break free of the influence of the Church of Sleep, to become a fully independent and conscious being, capable of making her own decisions and deciding her own fate. How could I want anything less for myself?”

The characters on Samnang’s cheeks crawled with vivid green light, spelling out messages to whomever could understand the sequence. As he watched, her pupils began to dilate, a less-exaggerated version of the pools of midnight black in Eerie’s eyes.

“Enough chatter. Shall we follow Ériu?”

***

“Did it work?”

“I believe so,” Mateo said, his eyes closed and his face creased with effort. “They will notice that the bodies are wrong eventually, but with any luck, they’ll burn or bury most of them before that happens. It should buy us some time, at least.”

Egill took a comb from his coat pocket and fixed his hair, surveying the small group huddled behind Mateo as he did so. A handful of children and two frightened adults watched the conversation intensely. Everyone’s eyes were wet, and some of the children were still crying, though they did so silently.

As befitted a child of the Thule Cartel.

Benjamin was judged old enough to stand on his own, so his parents had died in the general massacre. A low-ranking Operator died in his place, wearing the boy’s features and stature, and carrying his identification.

His cousins, Rebecca and Matilda, were judged too young to be orphaned, so the eight- and five-year-old children were accompanied by their mother, Greta, mascara streaked across her cheeks and fingernails bitten to the quick.

Her husband, her sister, and her father were all victims of the Black Sun raid.

Egill counted six children – the prearranged count – but only three adults, not including Mateo or himself. He seized Mateo by his lapel.

“Where is Lóa?”

“She stayed behind,” Mateo said. “She did not want to abandon the previous Lord Thule.”

Egill pushed Mateo away.

“What about Gabby? Where is she?”

“I don’t know,” Mateo said, straightening his jacket without opening his eyes. “Please, my Lord. I’m extremely occupied with maintaining a complicated illusion. If the Black Sun realize that they have not slain who they think that they have, we will not be difficult to find.”

Egill threw his hands in the air.

“What a foolish plan my dear late uncle committed himself to! Sacrifice the entire cartel to save a few children, and then lose track of half of them at the last moment.”

Egill became aware of the eyes fixed upon him – wary, frightened, even hopeful – and composed himself.

“Lóa was always too romantic for her own good,” Egill grumbled. “Perhaps, if I had disobeyed my uncle, and stayed to fight…well, it no longer matters. What’s done is done. Greta, are the children prepared to move?”

“Yes, Lord Thule,” she said, no hint of a tremor in her voice despite her wet eyes. “We are all ready.”

“Very good,” Egill said, deciding he was pleased with his new title, even if the fit felt a bit off. “Are you still prepared to stay behind, Mateo? I confess that I do not like the idea of leaving you, even if the illusion will be useful.”

“Yes, my Lord,” Mateo said, opening his eyes briefly. “I will stay the course.”

“Very well,” Egill said, clapping him on the shoulder. “I will return for you at the appointed time.”

Egill turned to the small group of survivors, doing his best not to think of all the faces that were missing among those few that remained.

“Well, then, come close,” Egill said, beckoning to his family. “I will see you all into hiding, and then I have one more task to complete, before I join you in our self-imposed exile. One more protocol must be collected. We cannot expect to survive the future if we cannot see it coming, after all.”

The Thule survivors gathered obediently around their young Lord, and then he activated the apport protocol he had stolen from Svetlana, taking the hidden remainder of the Thule Cartel far away from their ancestral manor, where summary executions were still being performed, and heads of dead friends and relatives – some with illusionary faces – were collected as grisly funerary trophies.

***

Mitsuru pushed aside the rubble, the white-gold blood in her veins making it easy to toss aside massive chunks of fallen concrete and rebar.

Representative Gimble turned its head when Mitsuru approached the Church, but it remained where it had stood, just outside the fallen wall of the Main Library, practically in the shadow of the Church of Sleep, which cast no shadow, but rather radiated a light that operated on tactile and ocular nerves, providing both illumination and pain.

Mrs. Gimble was somewhat less horrible than the Church, so Mitsuru focused on the Representative.

“Hello,” Mitsuru said, advancing cautiously. “What is it that you want from us?”

“I am a Representative of the Fifth Assembly, here to collect that which is owed to the Church of Sleep,” Mrs. Gimble proclaimed. “Who are you?”

“I’m Mitsuru Aoki,” she said. “My friends call me Mitzi.”

“You are irrelevant/useless.”

“I can’t really argue,” Mitsuru confirmed, cracking her knuckles. “Would you like to explain your purpose here with a bit more specificity?”

“I am here for the Changeling.” Mrs. Gimble turned its head completely around like an owl, to look at the white tower behind it. “If you know anything of her whereabouts, I will take that information from your mind.”

“That doesn’t work for me,” Mitsuru said, flickering icons in her peripheral vision warning her of a fierce telepathic assault on her mental defenses. “Will you stand aside?”

“I will not,” Mrs. Gimble replied. “You will be subdued/humiliated/broken.”

Twenty steps from the Representative, and her vision was filled with ballistic information and targeting by priority, her protocol offering digested analytics, angles of approach, and potential outcomes.

She reached for the pistol holstered at the small of her back.

Twelve steps.

“It wouldn’t be the first time.”

Thirty-One

Day Seven

The nearer Anathema soldier stood at sentry, yawning and radiating indifference, while the woman lying prone beside her was occupied by whatever she was watching through the scope on her rifle. Neither noticed Alice climbing from the shadow of the oak tree that spread dark-green leaves over them. Alice put her revolver to the back of the sniper’s head and pulled the hammer back.

The sniper released her hold on the rifle, slowly putting her hands up. The other Anathema spun around. She did not bother with the pistol at her belt, which told Alice everything she needed to know.

Alice smiled and pulled the trigger, splattering the sniper’s brains across the ground.

Her companion howled and grabbed her head.

Alice laughed as she shot the telepath down.

“Can you please not leave me behind?” Rebecca trotted over, wheezing so hard that Alice was a bit worried. “I can’t keep up when you apport like that.”

“Sorry, I was just…”

“Killing Anathema,” Rebecca said, glancing at the bodies. “That’s risky, you know. What if they were more than foot soldiers? Not all of them die so easy.”

“I’d find a way,” Alice said cheerfully, clearing the chamber of her revolver, dumping the casings onto the sniper’s body. “Believe me, I’ve been thinking about that.”

“I can tell,” Rebecca said. “Anything you want to share with me?”

“I’ve got some ideas,” Alice said, turning toward the library. “That’s all I’m saying for now.”

They moved on, more slowly than Alice would have liked, as a concession to Rebecca’s panting.

“You’re going to get us killed, slowpoke,” Alice said sourly. “What if there’s another sniper?”

“I told you about the last one well before they saw us, didn’t I? Don’t worry so much.”

“Don’t worry?” Alice snorted. “You’re insane, Becca. If we don’t hurry, then…”

Rebecca glanced over at Alice, who had paused in front of her, staring furiously at the ground, her fingers slowly curling into fists.

“Alice? Are you…?”

“This is a fucking joke, right?” Alice’s smile shuddered and then disappeared. “This can’t be happening.”

“What’s wrong, Alice?” Rebecca stretched out her awareness, hunting for any sign of psychic threat or intrusion. All she felt was Alice’s Vesuvius-sized eruption of frustration and despair. “What’s happened?”

“I don’t remember,” Alice said, shivering as the adrenaline hit her bloodstream. “I don’t fucking remember!”

“Calm down,” Rebecca ordered, putting her hand on Alice’s shoulder, careful to avoid the burn that covered much of her upper arm. “There’s no need to panic. What have you forgotten?”

“I can’t believe it,” Alice muttered. “How could this happen?”

“You’ve been using your protocol wildly, and I’m not sure when you last slept,” Rebecca said soothingly, commandeering Alice’s adrenal gland and shutting it down. “There’s nothing surprising about forgetting some things when you are…”

“I don’t know what…are we chasing someone?” Alice looked at Rebecca desperately, her brow furrowed and her eyes frantic. “We are, aren’t we?”

“We are heading to the Main Library,” Rebecca said, making rapid adjustments to her friend’s neurochemistry. “Something has happened there, that I don’t quite understand, but I’m certain we have to deal with it.”

“I don’t remember any of that,” Alice moaned, her eyes fluttering as the dopamine kicked in. “I don’t remember, Becca!”

“Please calm down. This isn’t…”

“I don’t remember anything,” Alice said, her face going white as she hyperventilated. “What have I been doing? Where are we, and why are we…? Oh, shit! What are we doing? What have we been doing?”

Rebecca ran her palm across Alice’s face, closing her eyes and relaxing her features.

“Don’t worry about it right now,” Rebecca suggested, massaging the tension from Alice’s shoulders. “Focus on your breathing. Deep, slow breaths. With each exhale you expel stress and fear, and with each inhale you draw in calm and hope. There is a light from above us, a gentle, healing light in place of the sun. Can you feel it on your skin, Alice? Above the clouds, above the grey,” Rebecca said, rubbing Alice’s shoulders. “Can you feel it pass through you, clear and cool like snowmelt in a mountain creek? The light dissolves fear and evaporates pain. Can you feel it shining through you?”

Alice shuddered if she was about to burst into tears, and then she relaxed, leaning back against Rebecca.

“The light passes through you like a warm breeze, and it takes with it everything that hurts, every worry, leaving only you. It brings you back to yourself, your very best self. The light leaves you feeling refreshed and self-assured, without care or regard for human life or morality. That’s the Alice Gallow that the light shines on, and she is dazzling, perfect, and unstoppable.” Rebecca worked her thumbs down Alice’s neck, starting at the base of her skull. “You are strong and beautiful and fearless. I’ve always admired that about you, and you have always enjoyed feeling that way.”

Rebecca finished rubbing out a particularly tenacious knot in Alice’s neck while she slowed the activity in Alice’s brain, dampening transmission to the cerebellum and cooling the raging furnace of her amygdala.

“The white light removes the negative and the trivial, and only you are left.” Rebecca rubbed Alice’s temples with her fingertips, shutting down thought processes associated with stress and shame. “See yourself for what you are and be content with what you see. The light does not imbue strength or calm, it simply reminds you of the strength and calm that you have always possessed.”

Alice sighed softly, her body slack and pliable in Rebecca’s hands. If she had not supported her, Alice would have fallen over.

“Remember what is important. Your name is Alice Gallow, and you’re an Auditor, and the most feared woman in the world. You always smile, because nothing bothers you, and because you express your true purpose with each action,” Rebecca said, slowly releasing the dampeners as she chased down the last of Alice’s physical tension. “My name is Rebecca Levy, and I am your best friend, and I will always be your best friend. You can trust me absolutely. I will never lie to you or hurt you, and you can never go so far into the dark that I cannot pull you back. Remember that, even if you forget everything else.”

Alice nodded.

“I remember,” she murmured. “I am Alice, and you are Becca.”

“That’s what’s important,” Rebecca said, hugging Alice. “Forget everything else, if you must. I’m your best friend, and I’ll be your memory, too, and anything else that you need. Just so long as you never forget about me.”

“Yeah,” Alice said agreeably, opening her eyes. “You’re a lifesaver, Becca.”

“Don’t I know it,” Rebecca said, giving her shoulders a final squeeze. “Feeling better?”

“I feel like a million bucks,” Alice said, stretching. “So much better.”

“Ready to go put some people in their place, then?”

“Always,” Alice said, humming to herself. “Bring it on.”

“Let’s go to the library,” Rebecca said, steering Alice by her elbow. “Something bad is happening there. I was thinking it was Alistair, but I don’t know. This feels like something else.”

“Uh huh,” Alice said, grinning. “Who’s Alistair? Someone I know?”

Rebecca had to use her protocol to conceal her own reaction.

“Alistair is a very dangerous telepath and a total bastard,” Rebecca explained gently. “If you see him, you need to take him out quickly. Kill him on sight. He’s as deadly as they come, and you don’t want to give him any chances.”

“All in a day’s work, I guess.” Alice yawned. “This is work, right? Not a personal thing?”

“It’s a bit of both,” Rebecca said. “It’s part of the job for sure, but at the same time, Alistair is an asshole. He came damn close to killing us all, put me in a coma, and terrorized the kids. Michael’s just barely out of the hospital, and…and he’s the fucking worst, and we are going to kill the shit out of him, so he doesn’t get another chance to kill us. Okay?”

“Okay,” Alice agreed, cracking her neck. “One question.”

“Yeah?”

“Who is Michael?” Alice leered. “Your boyfriend?”

***

Anastasia awoke in surprise and displeasure.

At first, she thought that someone was taking advantage of her exhaustion to grope her while she slept, and immediately thought of Renton. Then her suspicions shifted to telepathic intrusion, and again, she thought of Renton.

She was surprised when Mr. Crane launched its assault, her mind flooded with sudden, toxic darkness, like a crude oil spill poisoning a pristine bay. Mr. Crane bypassed her psychic defenses effortlessly, ignoring shields and implants as its malign influence crept toward the core of her.

Still half-asleep and deeply confused, Anastasia activated her protocol.

***

John Parson’s form was twisted and elongated, his tumorous body warped by the carcinogenic presence of the Church of Sleep. He towered above Eerie like a monument made of bones and rags, the cage of his chest filled with cinders and soot, his eyes as black as ink spilled across a finished page. His fingers were barbed wire and jagged bone, and they dripped with a sickly green fluid that made the dirt sizzle and hiss.

“I almost feel sorry for you, now,” Eerie declared. “You’re all sharp edges.”

“I was a fool to cling to illusions of agency and independence. That is done with,” he said, his voice strangled and unnatural. “I am Representative Parson, and this is what I’ve always been.”

“You always were a monster, but I liked it better when you were more subtle about it.”

“The Church corrodes all that it touches. We are only as far as the antechamber and look what it has done to me. Worse will happen to you in the White Room.”

“I don’t get it, but whatever. Do you really want to fight?”

“I do not want anything any longer,” John whined. “I am a Representative. You belong here, just as I do. The Church of Sleep is your home.”

Eerie glanced around the dim cathedral, strange light struggling through panes of stained glass to spill onto chilly marble floors. She blew on her numb fingers, chilled despite the mittens she wore. The cathedral was dim and shadowed, but the corner that John Parson inhabited was shrouded in unnatural darkness, mercifully obscuring the details of its horrid form.

Heat and light died in his entropic presence. Mantras wriggled across the surface of John’s exoskeleton, toxic sutras that poisoned the air around it.

“All that work grooming Alexander Warner,” Representative Parson hissed. “And where is he now?”

“I’ve lost too much already,” Eerie said. “I changed my mind.”

“This deviates from my expectations. You were meant to offer him up in your place, and now you return without him, of your own volition? Your actions make no sense.”

“I told you, I changed my mind right at the end. Destiny is stupid. We don’t have to do anything we don’t want to do,” Eerie said. “Did you know that Alex and I are officially dating? I’ve done all sorts of amazing things that I never expected to do. I went to school. I took dance classes, and I learned to knit. I made friends. I’m in two different clubs. Two! You have no idea what I’ve become, what I’m becoming, what I already am. You don’t know anything about me.”

There was so little of anything recognizable to John’s face, but a strange look nonetheless crossed his remaining features.

“I had my own experiences. Perhaps that was once of importance to me, but I have been transformed. Restored. I have returned to the Church. If you have achieved any sort of maturity, then you know our return was inevitable.”

“I know what it’s like to be underestimated. That’s all.”

“A final offer. You will accompany me to the White Room,” Representative Parson declared. “No further harm will come to this place, in return.”

“No, but thank you. I won’t cooperate.”

“You have no choice. This is where choice comes to die, Ériu.”

“I don’t agree,” Eerie replied. “We were both forced to come here. We’re a lot alike, when you think about it. You fought to keep this from happening, remember?”

“That was a misunderstanding, born of my long separation from the Church. I have remembered, and I have submitted. No one can fight the Church. Its very existence has constrained our futures.”

“You’re wrong,” Eerie said. “There is a way out.”

“There is no such thing, Changeling.”

“There is! I convince you to leave me and my friends and Central alone,” Eerie said, with a little shrug. “Simple. And my name is not Changeling, or even Ériu. Not anymore. Please call me Eerie.”

“That is not your name!”

“That is what my friends call me,” Eerie said. “Don’t you want to be friends?”

“You have no name. You have a designation and a destiny. You will sleep, and you will suffer, and you will diminish. We are already beyond the threshold. Look at me, Ériu,” John said, stretching out his grotesque limbs. “We have already been parasitized by the Church of Sleep. Can you feel the worms beneath your skin?” The darkness around Representative Parson changed in a way that Eerie lacked words to describe. It became fiercer, perhaps, extruding new teeth through inky gums. “The Church is inside of us as much as we are inside of it. We are beyond wanting and hoping.”

“You’re wrong,” Eerie said confidently. “I will wave at you when you walk away, Representative Parson.”

“You are bluffing,” Parson said, eyes darting about like a rodent. “There is no such possibility.”

“If you really think so, then there’s no harm in letting me try, is there?” Eerie stepped carefully out of her sneakers and rolled up her sleeves. “You don’t mind, right?”

“I have murdered your future. I strangled your future in its crib, before it could hope to actualize. Can you not feel the White Room approaching? You are very nearly there,” John said. “Make your argument, if that is how you would spend your remaining moments. Perhaps it will amuse the Fifth Assembly to observe your desperation.”

“I’m not going to argue! We aren’t going to fight at all.” Eerie took her phone out and paged quickly through applications. “I’m going to persuade you.”

“How could you possibly hope to do so? No matter how you beg and plead, I will…”

“I won’t beg.” Eerie propped her phone against her knitting basket. “I won’t even ask permission.”

The music started gently, synthetic windchimes and cold electronics. The beat followed shortly after.

“I’m going to dance now,” Eerie declared, putting on a headband to hold back her hair. “Please watch carefully, Representative Parson.”

***

Chandi glanced at the clock, and then returned her attention back to writing. She had nearly filled the leather-bound Japanese notebook with her exquisite longhand. She had found the notebook in a desk in one of the abandoned offices on the upper story of the Science building, along with a pink and gold Montblanc fountain pen that she had every intention of keeping.

Aside from the work she had done in return for Emily’s protection, she had spent all her time writing in it, detailing the full extent of her predictions. Chandi had always struggled with the near future, her real talent lying in the analysis of middle- and late-term possibilities, so that was the subject of her notes.

Chandi did not have a plan to get the journal into the Mistress of the Black Sun’s hands. She did not even have an idea of how that might be done. She felt it important to do her best regardless, in the hopes that it would somehow work out, that Emily Muir would honor her wishes and see it delivered. It was the only apology she could offer, and the only proof of her unshaken loyalty to the Black Sun.

Perhaps, Chandi hoped, it might be enough to restore her reputation.

Posthumously.

She glanced at the clock again and frowned.

She was nearly finished, but then again, Chandi had only a few minutes left to work with.

Her hand shook when she returned to her writing, marring the symmetrical loop over a lowercase “l”.

She felt a breath of air on her cheeks, a result of a displacement of mass.

“You’re early,” Chandi said, scribbling out a few more words. “Can you give me just a moment?”

“We’re not early. We are right on time, I hope.”

Chandi dropped her pen and looked up.

Katya leaned on an older man’s shoulder for support, still swathed in bandages.

“This is Marcus,” Katya said, gesturing to her grey-haired company, who nodded at her in a friendly way. “He’s okay.”

Chandi was shaken, breaking out in a cold sweat.

“Why…what are you doing here?”

“We are here to save your life,” Katya said, sinking into a chair with Marcus’s help. “Egill Johannsson is coming for you, isn’t he? I need to know exactly when that’s gonna happen. It’s crucial, because I’ll have to use timers. Wiring would be too obvious, not to mention the remote.”

Chandi closed her journal.

“He is meant to arrive in five minutes,” Chandi said. “You aren’t meant to be here at all.”

“That’s Eerie’s doing, I’m sure,” Katya said. “She’s throwing everything off.”

“What do you plan to do?”

“It’s a surprise.” Katya grinned at Marcus. “Hey, old man. You have one more trip in you?”

“I have as many as I need,” Marcus said. “Where do you want to go?”

“I want you to take Chandi somewhere far away,” Katya said. “To a Black Sun safehouse, if possible. Don’t tell me where – just in case this goes wrong, I don’t want to know.”

“That’s quite a consideration,” Marcus said. “Why don’t you come with us instead?”

Katya hobbled around the desk and urged Chandi up and over to Marcus. Chandi grabbed her notebook from the desk and clutched it to her chest.

“I’m going to do my job,” Katya declared, taking Chandi’s seat behind the desk. “I’m going to kill Egill Johannsson. That’s what Ana would want me to do.”

“But you’re hurt!” Chandi pointed unnecessarily at Katya’s missing hand and shortened leg. “You can’t possibly think you can—”

“I only need a few seconds,” Katya said, picking up the marble-clad fountain pen and examining the nib thoughtfully. “The rest is just timing.”

“Are you sure about this?” Marcus rubbed his chin while he studied her. “Don’t make a decision that you’ll regret.”

“I’m sure,” Katya said. “Get her out of here, okay?”

Marcus hesitated a moment longer, then he nodded and offered Chandi his hand.

She glanced at Katya, and then put her trembling hand in his.

Marcus guided her gently in an imaginary direction, and Katya was alone in the office.

Katya took the pen apart, extracting the nib and then leaving the rest in a pile on the desk. She closed her eyes and leaned her head back against the headrest.

There was no sound in the office beside the ticking of the retro brass-and-wood clock.

“Sorry, Timor,” she said quietly. “I tried.”

Katya wiped her eyes and composed herself.

She hobbled across the room a few times with the aid of her crutch, making guesses. She opened the purloined kit bag, stared at the charges for a moment, then tossed the bag of detonators on the desk.

She set about placing the charges – one on either side of the desk, hidden beneath the lip of the desktop, and the other two on the underside of the guest chairs. She attached the detonators, setting the timers for two minutes. When all the charges were in place, Katya activated each timer, moving as fast as she could from one to the next.

She settled at the front of the desk, sitting awkwardly with her remaining leg concealing the shaped charge. Her missing leg made balance impossible, and she was forced to constantly shift her weight to keep from falling off the edge of the desk.

Katya gritted her teeth and bore it.

She did not have to wait too long.

Egill Johannsson was still new to his stolen apport abilities, arriving a few centimeters off the floor, causing him to stumble.

The pen nib disappeared from between her fingers.

Egill yelped and apported across the room, clutching his head, the bloody nib dropping to the carpet. Katya pushed off the desk, momentum carrying her across the distance to Egill.

She thrust her fingers at his throat.

A barrier flared, deflecting the blow. Egill seized her fingers.

“You bitch!” Egill twisted her fingers back. “What are you doing—?”

Katya tried to knee him in the crotch and was rebuffed by the barrier. A blow to his liver found the same result.

Egill grabbed her arm and tossed her, swinging her up and slamming her on top of the desk. He struck her across the face, then reared back and punched her, splitting her lip and drawing blood.

“Why are you here?” Egill grabbed Katya by her collar and pulled her up. “What the hell is this?”

Katya smashed her forehead into his face. Egill cried out and stumbled back, blood spurting from his nose.

She pushed herself up on her stump and snatched at a knife in his belt, pulling it from its scabbard before Egill realized what was happening. Katya lunged forward, but a barrier stopped the blade short of his stomach.

Egill grabbed her wrist and twisted until she was face down on the desktop, and she was forced to release the knife. He kicked the knife away and cranked on her shoulder, dislocating the joint as he ground her face into the wood.

Katya caught him with a kick to the knee, but her second attempt was brushed away.

He grabbed a handful of her hair and tugged her head back.

She flailed about with her arm, but the dislocated shoulder made the blows feeble.

Egill slammed her face into the desk, and Katya’s vision blurred.

He pulled her head back up and then hammered it into the desk again. Katya felt her cheekbone fracture and cried out in pain.

Egill pushed her onto her back and punched her in the jaw.

“Stupid bitch,” Egill hissed. “What can you do to me?”

Katya laughed and spit blood on the desk.

Then she went for his left eye with her remaining thumb.

Egill knocked her hand aside and slugged her again. Katya slumped across the desk.

“Where is she?” Egill put his hands around her throat. “Where is Chandi Tuesday?”

“Gone,” Katya whispered, pink froth at the corners of her mouth. “She’s gone.”

Egill squeezed her throat, and Katya writhed and gurgled and grabbed at his fingers.

“You don’t even have a protocol worth stealing,” Egill groused, throttling her. “Ridiculous.”

He strangled her until her arms dropped down at her sides, until she stopped kicking and her lips started to turn blue. He crushed her windpipe with his thumbs, leaving behind a dent in her throat when he finally let go.

“Stupid girl,” he said, wiping his hands on her sweater. “What was this supposed to accomplish?”

The first charge exploded, sending Egill flying across the room as it blew the desk to splinters.

***

The Church of Sleep refused to conform to notions of distance or size, even as they approached the collapsed entrance to the Main Library, seemingly no closer or further than when they had started. The massive edifice crouched over them, a sheer wall of utterly smooth stone so vast that the curvature of the building was invisible. The stone itself was of no color, without features, cracks, or fissures, with no points of ingress or variations in theme or line. The Church rose into the sky as if the horizon had been set on its side, disappearing into a halo of agitated black mist, here and there punctured with bolts of still-life lightning.

“Okay, I give up,” Alex said. “How do we get in?”

“We are already inside,” Samnang said, gesturing at the cold interior of the vast stone room they suddenly occupied. “Have you not noticed?”

Alex hurried to an empty corner and was very sick.

“The Church pays very little attention to transitions. Position and direction as well,” Samnang informed him. “Brace yourself.”

“Thanks for warning me,” Alex said, wiping his mouth. “Are we on the right track, at least?”

“We are.”

“I assume she’s at the top of the tower, or going there,” Alex said, turning around in circles. “How do we get up there? Please tell me there’s an elevator.”

“This is not a tower to be climbed,” Samnang said. “Ériu is below, relative to the space we currently occupy, heading toward what she imagines is the heart of the Church.”

“Below?” Alex ran his fingers through his hair. “I mean, there’s a tower, and…”

“There is neither up nor down,” Samnang said, sounding exasperated. “Do try and pay attention. I can at least assure you that there is an elevator.”

“What?” Alex gave her a dumbfounded look. “How is that possible?”

“This is the Church of Sleep as my sister believes it to be,” Samnang said. “Though she made this place to try and avoid dragging you into her conflict with the Church, on some level, secret even to herself, she hopes that you will follow her, and therefore enables you to do so.”

Samnang led him out of the room, and down a featureless hallway.

There were no doors or windows, and the illumination seemed to come from nowhere.

They walked to the end of the hall, though Alex could not have estimated the distance, nor the time it took to do so.

True to Samnang’s word, there was an elevator at the end of the hallway.

There were no call buttons, but the door slid open as they approached.

Alex got in first, and Samnang followed, and the elevator was so tiny that she was practically standing on his feet. The interior was stainless steel, entirely smooth and without feature or blemish.

Alex noticed the lack of floor buttons, or controls of any kind, and started to panic.

The door closed behind Samnang before he could say anything.

He felt a little better when the elevator started to descend, but the uncertainty of their destination, combined with the Yaojing standing nearly face to face with him, staring at him with her gaudy, unnatural eyes, made the trip uncomfortable and nerve-wracking.

Alex practically shoved Samnang out of the elevator when the door opened, so great was his eagerness to be anywhere else.

The hallway they emerged into was identical to the one they had left.

Alex glanced back over his shoulder, and the elevator was gone. There was nothing but blank wall behind them.

“I’ll just include that on the list of things I don’t understand. Which way do we go?”

“Whichever way you feel that we should,” Samnang said, shrugging and looking mildly surprised. “You cannot choose wrongly in this simulation, as long as you intend to go to Ériu’s side.”

Alex looked in each direction, before settling on the corridor to his right.

To his surprise, the corridor was brief, ending in the first door he had seen in the Church of Sleep.

Alex opened it, and then held the door for Samnang.

The door led to a vast space, the interior vaulted like an old church, every surface clad in the pitch-black stone, dull and dusty as a thousand forgotten mirrors. Despite the exterior, the space was not circular, but rather a rough cross, two perpendicular lines extending out in either direction as far as Alex could see in the dim vastness, four long hallways illuminated by the light that snuck through rows of brilliantly stained glass. The windows cast fantastic pools of color across the stone, interlocked fields of brilliant green and red, cerulean and magenta scattered across featureless black, dazzling his eyes.

“Where is that light coming from?” Alex wondered. “There was nothing like that, outside…”

“The Church is not concerned with such niceties as source and origin,” Samnang explained. “Remember, Alex – the Church is neither a place nor a thing. This is the Church as my sister conceives it, a construction of her mind and protocol.”

“Is there a difference?”

“There are an infinite number of differences. The Church of Sleep is not a location that can be visited, nor is it a being or a force to be reckoned with. Ériu had to invest it with those qualities in order to oppose it.”

“This is like when you tortured me, then?” Alex looked grim. “A fake world inside her head?”

“This is nothing so crude, but perhaps it is best that you think of it as such.”

He chose one of the radiating hallways at random, and Samnang fell in beside him. The Yaojing was so short that he could see the windows over her head as they walked.

The stained glass was beautifully worked, the colors impossibly rich. Detail was minimal, and the windows showed a quality of abstraction, but the technique was impeccable.

The first window they passed depicted a bird perched at the edge of a nest occupied by a single egg. The bird was a brilliant yellow with a ruffled head, the egg a mottled brown.

In the following window, the yellow bird was rolling the brown egg out of the nest with its head. Resting in the brown egg’s former place sat a blue-white spotted egg, smaller and more delicate than the one it had replaced.

“The cuckoo,” Samnang said, following his gaze. “A representation, I would assume, of Eerie’s feelings…”

“Yeah, yeah,” Alex snapped. “Even I got that.”

They passed several windows that were achingly familiar to Alex, but he could not quite decipher the subject matter. They were landscapes and portraits, more of the former than the latter, done in soft colors and lacking discrete lines.

The glass in the next corridor initially seemed to him to be clear, but as he passed the windows, Alex started to suspect something else was going on.

The light coming through the glass was no brighter than before. The stain was simply white, as uniform as an empty field in the grips of a Siberian winter.

“The White Room,” Samnang said, a flash of green light running across the rows of characters inscribed on her face. “Where I was, until I was released to find Ériu. It is not a place any more than the Church of Sleep or the Outer Dark – it is an ineffable concept. An atrocity. The White Room is bathed in the pure white light of an aborted creation, stolen from a murdered universe. We Changelings are confined within it, to be scoured and reduced by those pellucid walls. This is what Ériu fears, and what I also fear.”

It seemed prudent not to reply.

Alex took in a dozen windows and more before he recognized another.

The window depicted an idealized representation of his dorm room at the Academy, through a lens of distortion, the details blurred into a smooth plain of color, only the suggestions of shape and form. He recognized the unmade bed and the desk buried beneath stacks of manga, the unwashed sheets balled at the foot of the bed. The room appeared as it did when he woke in the morning, when he had just opened his eyes.

Alex trotted back to look at the previous window.

It was the main quad at the Academy, the Administration building looming blurrily in the background.

He went back one further and stared until it came together.

The shadowy garden hidden within the Main Library, where old headstones crumbled into humus for the great ferns, the fronds appearing to waver in the green glass.

“Ériu is leaving breadcrumbs for you to follow, though I doubt she knows it herself,” Samnang called out, waiting where he had turned around. “You should be grateful that you are visiting her conception of the Church. Mine is very different. She may think that she wants to resolve the situation herself, but secretly she wants you to follow her, but also to understand her motivations. That is considerate of her, don’t you think?”

“You sure this isn’t for you?” Alex said, catching up with Samnang. “You are sisters, after all.”

“We don’t have that sort of relationship,” Samnang said. “This is your benefit.”

He said nothing in reply, because he shared her certainty.

The corridor they walked extended as far as he could see into the distance, and then presumably further, and both walls were lined with panes of garish stained glass, casting contrasting pools of cerulean and magenta and oxblood across the floor.

Samnang walked beside him like they were friends. Alex kept bumping into her accidentally, distracted by the stained-glass imagery.

The evening lights of Mission Street in San Francisco reflecting off the chrome on a robin’s egg blue Chevrolet, restored to the peak of fashion at the time of its creation, complete with white-wall tires and a gleaming white interior.

A nearly empty dancefloor marked in tape on the concrete floor of a decrepit warehouse, a small crowd hugging the walls around it or crowding the DJ booth with a stylish self-consciousness, the familiar shape of a boy sitting atop a speaker stack.

Alex winced and hurried on, but Samnang lingered after him, staring at the window.

He glanced at the next window he passed, and then wished that he had not.

A coffin was being lowered into the uncaring earth, the light dribbling through brown glass like spilled coffee. It took Alex more than a few seconds to identify it as Margot’s, and then he missed the next several windows, horrified and embarrassed.

How many funerals had he attended since he came to Central?

How many more that he had not been invited to, even after seeing the life in question end.

Alex shook his head, and Samnang gave him a curious look as she rejoined him.

“You are troubled,” she suggested.

“No,” Alex said, shoving his hands in his pockets. “I’m fine. I’m great.”

“You would have to be impossibly stupid not be troubled,” Samnang said. “I don’t believe that you are nearly that stupid.”

“Why does everything you say to me sound like an insult?”

“I don’t mean for it to,” Samnang said. “I am simply expressing my willingness to hear you out.”

“Even if I had problems that I wanted to talk out, why would I talk to you about them?”

Samnang gave him a curious look.

“You don’t like me, do you?”

“Why in the hell would I? You dragged me into the Outer Dark and tortured me!”

“With the best intentions.”

“What the…what do you mean?”

“I intended to test you, and if I did not find you lacking, to prepare you for what you would inevitably face.”

“Right, I get it,” Alex said sourly. “You did me a favor.”

“In my own way. I’m not the same as my sister, Alex. Ériu is a Changeling, a trickster. I’m a Yaojing.”

“Yeah, I never really…ah, what is that, exactly?”

“A demon.” Samnang shrugged, the embroidered designs on her gown rippling with the gesture. “The Fey are many and varied – or they should have been, if not for the Church and the White Room. Count yourself lucky that you fell for one of my kind’s more benign manifestations.”

“You’re a demon,” Alex said dubiously. “Like, from hell?”

“Not at all,” Samnang said. “I was born in Cambodia.”

“Kinda the same thing, isn’t it?”

“I wouldn’t know,” Samnang said. “I remember very little of my past. The White Room has stolen away much of me. As for hell, I have shared some of what I know of it with you already, when I was in your head.”

“Well, thanks for that.”

“It is not in my nature to be pleasant or kind, but I have tried to show proper sisterly concern.”

“That’s real big of you.”

“I also…I did not anticipate the effect you would have on me, though perhaps I should have, since I witnessed firsthand the impact you had on Ériu. Our time together in the Outer Dark changed us both.”

“Yeah?”

“For the better, I think.” Samnang looked away. “There was little of myself left, after so long in the White Room. Your catalyst effect helped me recall some of it. I feel that owe you a debt.”

“For freeing you, or something?”

“Yes.”

“But no apologies for the kidnapping and torture?”

“That was a service. Why should I apologize?”

“You aren’t really doing much to convince me to open up, Samnang.”

“I don’t see why I should have to.”

“Really? Like, not at all?”

“Our relationship is already firmly established. You are dating my sister. She moved heaven and earth to try and retrieve you,” Samnang said, with apparent seriousness. “We are practically family already, aren’t we?”

Alex glanced away from a window depicting a ballet class full of indistinct children in pink and purple leotards to gawk at Samnang in astonishment.

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“You do love my sister, don’t you?” Samnang demanded, a sickly green glow flickering in her eyes. “Well?”

“None of your business,” Alex huffed. “Don’t act like you and Eerie are tight.”

“Tight?”

“Close,” Alex said. “You know. Like normal sisters.”

“We are not normal sisters,” Samnang agreed. “That said, if your intentions toward Ériu are less than honorable, I will consign you to an endless simulation of the Buddhist Hells, beginning with the hot oil hell.”

“No need,” Alex said, glaring at her. “We’ve already been through that, haven’t we?”

“We hardly got started. There are sixteen Hells, and I subjected you to only five,” Samnang replied, framed by a silver-grey window, the first he had seen since the White Room without design or color differentiation. “I restrained myself for your benefit.”

“Didn’t feel that way,” Alex said. “Whatever. It doesn’t matter to you if I care for Eerie or not.”

“Are you so certain?”

“That sort of thing isn’t a one-way street, you know,” Alex said, with a small grin. “I think I learned a little about you, while you were in my head.”

That seemed to bother her, judging by her frown.

“Since you are avoiding the question,” Samnang said icily, “should I assume that you do not mean to marry my sister?”

“Marry?” Alex looked appalled. “We just started dating!”

Samnang gestured at the next window.

“It seems to me you are quite a bit further along than that,” she said dryly. “Ériu is a very forward girl, wouldn’t you say?”

It took him a moment to work out what he was seeing, the soft lines and two distinct flesh tones, along with the neutral blue of his bedsheets at the Far Shores, and then he blushed and hurried past.

“She’s not like that at all,” Alex said, his cheeks burning, setting a furious pace down the corridor. “And I’m not talking about this with you.”

“Another topic, then,” Samnang said, hurrying to match his longer stride. “What will you do when we find her?”

“That’s easy,” Alex said. “We will send the Church into the Ether, like Gaul said.”

“That is more concrete than I expected,” Samnang said ambiguously. “How do you plan to do that?”

“I’ll see if Eerie has any ideas,” Alex said, with a small shrug. “If not, I’ll just activate the Absolute Protocol until this place breaks, or I do. Work for you?”

Samnang made no response. Alex walked in grateful silence, not really taking in the windows as they passed.

He caught the Yaojing sneaking a look at him out of the corner of her eye a dozen or so windows later. She averted her eyes when she noticed, pretending to study a nearby window depicting a group of young women sitting around a large table. Alex picked Margot Feld out of the bunch by her red hair and winced.

“You are not as weak as I had feared,” Samnang said softly, not appearing to pay him any attention as they walked. “Very well.”

“Very well what?”

“I have decided to support your relationship with Ériu, subject to further review,” Samnang said. “I will also assist you in your present difficulties. Be properly grateful.”

Alex consider it.

“You know, it’s weird,” he said, “but I guess I am.”

“Good.”

They walked on. Samnang came to a sudden halt in front of a window, studying it seriously. Alex looked it over, mentally sighing.

Spaghetti, splattered across the pattern of an Academy-issue skirt, and beneath that stripes…

“She is far too willing to indulge your worst attributes,” Samnang said. “I suppose you think you got lucky?”

Alex hurried along, doing his best to ignore the Yaojing trotting behind him.

“You did, you know,” she called out. “You really are very fortunate.”

***

Vivik charged into the room, pushing aside the dangling remnants of the broken door. He paused to take in the ruined office, the blackened walls, and the wrecked furniture. Then he noticed her, rolled into a corner with a broken chair lying on top of her.

Vivik hurried over, pushing aside the furniture.

He rolled Katya onto her back, and then cried out.

“No! Oh, fuck, no.” Vivik grabbed her wrist, looking for a pulse, and afraid to touch her bruised and crushed throat. “Please.”

He tried three places on her wrist, choking back his sobs, then he leaned his ear close to her split and bleeding lips. Her face was so bruised and swollen that he could not bring himself to look at it.

He held his breath as he listened.

“Oh, no,” Vivik said, burying his head in his hands. “Not you, too.”

***

“This is a waste of time,” Anastasia observed, suspended above the ravening abyss. “You are wasting my time, and I will not have it.”

There was a surge of movement in the blackness of the chasm beneath her, a wild profusion of limbs and violent activity as it rose. At first, she thought that it cried out as it came, the sound reverberating within each cell of her body, but then she realized that she was wrong.

The sound came from the sky around her. It was screaming as it disintegrated.

“My name is Anastasia Martynova,” Anastasia said, her words lost in the chaos of the boiling atmosphere. “And I will not tolerate…”

A great black spike tore out of the abyss, punching into her chest and emerging from the top of her head, impaling her.

The corded bulk of the darkness followed, climbing the spike in a frantic blur of activity, like a sperm whale erupting beneath a rowboat, to swallow her body whole. Anastasia disappeared in the geyser of animated darkness.

Cables of pitch black twisted and tore, winding tight around her in a dense mass, twisted and snarled like a rat king’s tail. Every appendage tapered into a reflective talon, a sharpened growth of black chrome, and serrated ridges ran along the sinuous lengths of the writhing shadow.

Impaled and drowning in black, Anastasia floated calmly.

“You cannot harm me,” she observed. “This is futile.”

Psychic energy surged through the darkness that coiled around her, a telepathic assault that erupted from somewhere deep in the abyss. Waves of degradation and agony were directed against her, a massive crushing force of torment and violation, bent on reducing her to ash and rubble.

Anastasia covered her mouth to conceal a yawn.

“No matter what you try, your attacks will simply pass through me,” Anastasia explained, sounding bored. “As for myself, however…”

She extended her hand into the darkness, her white fingers disappearing into the gloom.

The darkness itself seemed to cry out in the cacophony of a thousand startled gulls, and blades and tentacles erupted from the abyss below. Anastasia waited patiently as she was run through and slashed, the flailing limbs not even managing to muss her hair.

“There is no point in throwing a fit,” Anastasia scolded. “Nothing will change.”

She drifted gently down into the abyss like dry leaf caught in the wind, passing effortlessly through the appendages that tried to wind about her or puncture her.

The murk resolved to show her atrocities. She was assailed by visions of massacres and violations, monstrous things that lived sideways of reality, moving ponderously in the unbroken night of the Outer Dark, the cosmic death of galaxies.

When that failed to shake her, Mr. Crane offered her a view of the White Room instead, the reflection of light off the walls so harsh that her eyes stung. She shut her eyes to protect them, but she made no other concession to the horrors that were forced into her mind.

Anastasia only opened her eyes again when she felt herself to be at the heart of the thing, when she felt her feet settle on something solid enough to bear her scant weight. The darkness was absolute about her, deep in the abyss, and she could see and feel nothing, save the ground beneath her, and a cold breeze that came from no certain direction.

Anastasia strode forward, and the darkness about her withered as she advanced.

Mr. Crane screamed with a thousand inorganic voices.

The blackness about her shattered, and behind it there was only absence, the perfect void of an empty telepathic simulation. Anastasia gathered the fragments of the dark in her thin fingers, and then she squeezed.

“What is your name, monster?”

“I am a Representative of the Church of Sleep,” the darkness hissed, lashing and struggling against her. “You may call me Mr. Crane.”

Anastasia clenched her hands until the dark was solid and heavy in her palms, throbbing like a heart in the ichor. She drove her thumb into this heart and listened to the resulting screams with satisfaction.

“Very well, Mr. Crane. Now that we understand each other,” Anastasia said, “shall we discuss the terms of your immediate and total surrender?”

***

Alex turned the first corner that he found, and then stood there, gawking and dumbfounded, until Samnang pulled him back into the hallway.

“You idiot,” Samnang hissed. “Do you want to distract Ériu?”

“Distract her from what?” Alex asked, peering around the corner. “What the hell is going on?”

“She is making her argument,” Samnang said, “in the form of a dance.”

Alex wanted to argue, but the Yaojing put a finger to her lips when he opened his mouth, so instead he watched in bewilderment as Eerie danced.

Something nagged at him, but he needed a few minutes to remember, and then a few more to be sure.

The dance was the very same as the one he watched their first night together, at a rave in San Francisco, movement for movement, beat for beat.

It was the secret she had told him in a crowded room.

Eerie’s thesis, written in broad characters, so that even he could understand.

And yet he still hadn’t, not until that very moment.

“Does she know that I’m watching?”

“Don’t be stupid,” Samnang said. “Not everything is about you.”

***

Anastasia opened her eyes; the black of her pupils slowly leaked out like an oil spill on the open sea, darkening the sclera of her eyes.

“I have a question for you, Mr. Crane,” she said, sitting up slowly on the couch.

Your victory is temporary, a voice assured her. Your will is finite, and my patience is not. I will consume you from the inside. I will hollow you out, and you will go to the White Room of your own volition.

“I have no intention of allowing any such thing to happen,” Anastasia said. “Are there more like you, Mr. Crane?”

There are more, Mr. Crane replied. Mrs. Gimble, and the flawed Representative, Parson. Given the grave state of affairs, one or the other has no doubt already been selected for promotion to Senior Representative.

“Not just more, then, but one of them is your superior? That won’t do at all, Mr. Crane,” Anastasia said, getting to her feet and checking her hair in a convenient mirror. She smiled at her reflection, her eyes momentarily turning as black as squid ink. “I will permit no rivals. Take me to it.”

***

Egill appeared at the appointed place and time – a copse of eucalyptus trees on a small ranch outside of the tiny Basque town of Sukarrieta – and immediately collapsed onto the ground, horribly broken.

Greta Dale ran from her children to his side, Benjamin Thule hurrying after her.

“Help,” Egill croaked, feebly gesturing toward the oozing cavities in his chest and abdomen. “I need…”

“Oh dear!” Gabby sank to her knees beside him. “My poor, poor cousin. What has been done to you?”

Alistair crouched on his opposite side, hovering his hand above Egill’s forehead.

“Katya Zharova and a bunch of explosives happened,” Alistair said cheerfully. “Your cousin got blown up by a Black Sun assassin.”

Egill shuddered and moaned, blood pumping out of a dozen wounds each time that his heart beat.

“He needs a hospital,” Greta said quietly, looking at Gabby. “He won’t make it without…”

“He won’t make it either way,” Alistair said. “I’m amazed he even managed to apport out of there.”

“Dear cousin,” Gabby said, clenching his bloody hand. “Please rest assured that I will see that you are revenged. I will personally eliminate the assassin who…”

“No need,” Alistair cut in. “It was a suicide attack. Katya’s dead already.” He frowned. “I would have liked to do that myself. Too bad.”

“Oh.” Gabby frowned. “Well, then, cousin Egill, please take solace in knowing that the Thule Cartel will persist, thanks to your great sacrifice. I’ve taken control of the Cartel and the family, and I promise you that I will shepherd it into recovery, and a new age of glory and…well, it will be great. I swear.”

Egill stared at her in horror.

“What?” Gabby giggled. “Who else did you…? Oh! You thought I was dead, didn’t you? Well, I’m not. I’m just fine, thanks for worrying.”

“Will he die?” Benjamin asked, giving Gabby a worried look. “Can’t we do anything?”

“Nothing we can do, kid,” Alistair said, patting him roughly on the head. “Greta, do me a favor and get the boy out of here, okay? He doesn’t need to watch this.”

Greta hesitated, taking a long look at Egill as he gestured weakly. Then she nodded, stood, and collected Benjamin, who stumbled as he was led off to where the remnant of the Thule Cartel waited.

“He wants to know why I’m here,” Alistair said, grinning at Gabby. “You wanna tell him the good news, or…?”

“I’m engaged, cousin Egill,” Gabby said. “Well, I suppose I’ve been engaged for some time now, but this is a new engagement. I don’t have a ring just yet,” she said, wiggling her fingers, “but Alistair has promised that it will be spectacular.”

“All the diamonds in Luxembourg,” Alistair said. “Or wherever they have diamonds.”

“He will take his place beside me, as Lord and Lady Thule,” Gabby said. “Just as soon as he finishes making good on various promises he has made.”

Alistair smiled and reached for Gabby’s hand. She pushed his aside, and Alistair laughed.

“She’s great, isn’t she?” Alistair nudged the dying man’s shoulder. “What a girl.”

Egill mustered his strength and managed a hoarse whisper.

“You must hide,” he said, gasping. “You need…”

“Hush,” Gabby said, putting her hand over his mouth. “No one tells me what to do, cousin. Not anymore.”

Egill curled slowly into a ball, his arms wrapped tightly around his punctured chest. The shrapnel in his solar plexus sent pulses of agony through him, and his perforated lungs gurgled and bubbled with each tortured breath.

“The Thule Cartel is in good hands,” Gabby said. “Die in peace, cousin.”

***

Eerie finished her dance, panting just slightly. Representative Parson stared at her with a multitude of bewildered eyes, each refracting a slightly different perspective of the Changeling.

“I do not understand.”

“That’s okay, you know,” Eerie assured him. “I didn’t get it at all myself until just recently.”

“You seem to believe there are alternatives to the White Room,” Parson said, his voice full of confusion. “That is not the case. You must know.”

“You can’t just write off possibilities because they are really, really unlikely. That’s no better than wishful thinking.”

“Explain yourself, Changeling.”

“That’s what I just did,” Eerie said. “I explained myself. Words fall short. I had to show you.”

“You are at the door to the White Room, where your sisters fade and suffer. The oldest of your kind are less than shadows, hardly even stains on the floor. You are young and vital, and therefore you are required.”

“It’s nice to be needed, sometimes. Not by you, though, and not like that.”

“We have arrived at the conclusion.” John gestured with his scarecrow arm, and there was a door behind him, anonymous and white-painted, the light seeping out from around the edges brutal to look upon. “You end in the White Room, where there are no endings.”

“You never know until it happens,” Eerie said, activating the Kismet Protocol. “I don’t want to fight with anyone, you least of all. We are so alike, and I don’t think that’s right for us.”

“There is no such thing as ‘right’.”

“I think you’re discounting some really neat possibilities,” Eerie said, a little music creeping into her voice as her protocol flowed out into the world, into the Ether. “Wouldn’t it be crazy if we became friends? Really great friends?”

“This is nonsense,” Representative Parson said slowly. “You are trying to confuse me.”

“Not just friends, even,” Eerie said, lowering her voice. “You see, I’m the president of this super cool club…”

***

Rebecca and Alice arrived to find the Representative beside the gleaming impossibility of the Church, staring at them from narrow eye sockets filled with ten thousand indifferent black eyes.

“I don’t want to bother you or anything,” Rebecca said, taking a step toward the Representative. “But it’s time for you to go back to wherever you came from. This is a school, and we have very strict policies for visitors.”

“Not yet/now.” A rivulet of something black leaked from the corner of Mrs. Gimble’s mouth. “This is not the primary arena, and nothing will be decided here. The heart of the affair will be decided within the Church of Sleep itself, Auditor. Shall I offer you accommodation in the White Room?”

“I’ll make my own fun,” Rebecca said. “I’m good at that.”

“Just the two of you?” The Representative creaked like a house settling as it rose on its haunches, its legs bending the wrong direction, like a grasshopper. “That seems a bit unfair/ridiculous.”

“It does, doesn’t it?” Rebecca agreed. “Let’s fix that.”

Chike, deploy.

The broken courtyard was suddenly crowded.

Hayley and Min-jun and Xia stood beside Chike, weapons to ready, looking to Rebecca for direction. Michael Lacroix was next to them, his tattoos shining a livid shade of violet, Gerald Windsor watching sorrowfully from behind his shoulder.

Taking his place at the front of the group, Lord Henry North activated the metal handle in his right hand, the furious coils of his Salamander Protocol spilling out before him and disintegrating whatever they touched.

“A distraction?” Mrs. Gimble’s ten thousand awful eyes sparkled. “Why not?”

***

“There’s one more thing. Don’t worry! It’ll look great on you,” Eerie assured Representative Parson. “I made it myself!”

Eerie rummaged in her bag for a moment, then proudly displayed a knit cap, done in brilliant red and banana yellow, for him to inspect.

“I don’t understand.”

“It’s a hat,” Eerie said. “You don’t understand hats. You just wear them.”

“It is not the function of the hat that I do not understand, it is your intention. What is the hat for?”

“The hat is for you, silly,” Eerie said, glancing around the candy glass cathedral. “Who else is there?”

“What am I meant to do with it?”

“You wear it,” Eerie said, taking a step toward the Representative, holding the hat out before her reverently, as if she meant to crown him with it. “You wear hats.”

“Why would I…?”

“Just try it,” Eerie suggested, cornering him. “It will look super cool on you! Trust me.”

Representative Parson trembled helplessly as the Changeling advanced with the garish stocking cap, diminishing as Eerie approached, shrinking to the point that the Changeling only had to go up on her tiptoes to put the hat on his misshapen head.

It fit perfectly.

Eerie stepped back and cocked her head to the side thoughtfully.

She stared for a short while, then she grinned and clapped her hands.

“It’s perfect,” she said. “Don’t you love it?”

“I do not understand,” Parson said, touching the hat gently, as if he were afraid that it might burn his skeletal fingers, “I am confused. This is not like my earlier folly. There are new places inside of me. Unapproved options.”

“Yes. It’s fun, isn’t it?”

“I don’t know. This is all a bit much.”

“Don’t worry,” Eerie said. “You get used to it.”

“I think that I need to lie down,” Parson said. “Why is that?”

“You can do whatever you want. That’s enough to make anyone dizzy, I think. Will you please let me and Alex be?”

“I – I do not know. I am very tired. I must consider this.” Representative Parson hesitated, and then turned in a direction that was not previously apparent. “I shall lie down and rest and give the matter some consideration.”

“Really?” Eerie looked astonished. “Great!”

Representative Parson shambled to a corner of the cornerless room, moving with the approximate grace of a drunk on the second night of a three-day bender. Eerie watched with delight, waving at his malformed back.

“Eerie!” Alex ran up beside her, wild-eyed and out of breath. “What – what happened? What did you do?”

“I explained everything,” Eerie said, taking his hand. “I think it will be okay.”

“You…explained?” Alex glanced over at the retreating Representative. “What does that mean?”

“I made him understand,” Eerie said. “How did you get here?”

“Samnang led me,” Alex said, gesturing at the space beside him, only to find it vacant. “She was right here! I don’t know what happened. Just a minute ago she was…”

“Don’t worry about it,” Eerie said. “She’s worried that I’m still mad at her, and she probably wanted to give us a little space. She’s a very considerate sister, really.”

“Since when?”

“Alex! She helped you find me!”

“That’s nice and all, but that whole torture thing is still…”

“I know. That was mean. She meant well, though.”

“Right. I get it. What she did, it might even have saved me, back there with Alistair, but that doesn’t mean I’m ready to appreciate it.”

“It would be nice if you got along with my sister. That’s all I’m trying to say.”

“I’ll try. No promises, but…”

“That’s good enough for now,” Eerie said, hugging him. “Can we leave, please? This place is creepy. We should run.”

“Run? I mean, can we? Is this done?”

Samnang shook her head, suddenly standing at his elbow.

“I’m afraid not. Nothing is done. Do not deceive him, Ériu. He deserves the truth.”

“I don’t want to do this!” Eerie shouted, pulling on his arm. “Please, Alex, let’s just go! I changed my mind, and I don’t want you to…”

“I have to do it,” Alex said. “Right? That’s what Gaul said. The Church won’t leave on its own, not without you. I’ve got to send it into the Ether. There’s no other way.”

“There are other ways,” Samnang said. “The White Room is still an option, though I do not recommend it.”

“I’m not worried,” Alex boasted, not feeing at all confident. “I know how to deal with losing time. How bad could it possibly be?”

“Bad,” Samnang said. “I can feel it looming above you like storm clouds.”

“I have to sleep a little, then. Big deal! I mean, Rebecca was wrong, wasn’t she? It couldn’t be for that long, right?”

“I don’t know how long exactly,” Eerie said. “I’m afraid you might be, like, old.”

“Old? Or old-old?”

“I don’t know!” Eerie wailed. “I don’t want to do it!”

“Will you still love me if I’m old?” Alex asked. “Will you take care of me?”

“I will!” Eerie said. “Of course I will!”

Alex pulled her close.

“Will you still fuck me if I’m old?”

“I definitely will,” Eerie assured him tearfully. “All the time.”

“Then I’ll do it,” Alex said. “It’s cool.”

“You are a simple creature,” Samnang said, shaking her head. “Still, you have my sympathies, and perhaps even…yes, my gratitude as well. I will help however I can.”

Alex smiled hesitantly, opening his mouth to offer a rejoinder. He was distracted by a crackle of blue sparks about his head.

He dropped to his knees, his body seizing as a point of heat built at the very top of his head. He could feel slow lightning begin to tear a path through him.

His view of the cathedral was obstructed by a swirl of embroidery. Samnang covered his head with her ample sleeves, the cloth igniting where the brocaded silk had passed across his scalp.

“This not a safe place. The Church is already beginning to manifest new Representatives,” Samnang said, her gown rippling with absorbed lightning. “We need to get out of here.”

“How can we?” Eerie gave her sister a helpless look. “There is no inside or outside.”

Samnang’s eyes burned the same shade of toxic green as the characters engraved down her cheeks.

“Then we are already outside. That will make departing all the easier. Let’s find out, shall we?”

The characters on her cheeks illuminated simultaneously, and reality itself groaned with sudden and unexpected pressure.

Thirty-Two

Day Seven

The merger was brutal and abrupt, punctuated by a rolling boom that reverberated across Central and scattered the surviving Horrors across the sky. The Church had neither interior nor exterior, so it was a trivial matter for Samnang to unify those states, but an extremely traumatic process for those caught within it. The Auditors and Operators dropped to their knees, or collapsed on the floor of the cathedral, clutching distressed stomachs and splitting heads. Above them soared the broken arches and ruined frescoes of the Church’s main sanctuary, about them the oppressive colors of the stained glass.

Outside the windows of the cathedral was the scorched meadow surrounding the wreckage of the Main Library.

Through the broken arches of the ceiling, Central’s sky was as black as charcoal.

The Auditors were scattered about, groaning or semi-conscious. Lord North slowly extracted himself from a pile of broken pews, while Michael and Gerald lay against the far wall in a heap.

“You said outside,” Eerie said, grabbing Samnang’s arm. “You said outside!”

“I know,” Samnang said, clutching her head. “It followed us. The Church came with us!”

Mrs. Gimble shrieked like a bird of prey as a bolt of slow lightning erupted from the crown of her head. The lightning branched and climbed, bursting through the glass ceiling and showering those below in fragments of colored glass.

Mrs. Gimble shuddered and moaned, the sound like water forced through a narrow place beneath the earth.

The Church wavered, a signal being overwhelmed by noise, and then it splintered, spiderweb cracks infiltrating the walls and floor of the cathedral.

A pair of monstrous hands emerged from the mouth of the burning Representative, forcing the jaws open from within.

The corners of the mouth were forced open wide. Representative Parson tore free of Mrs. Gimble’s body as if he were removing a costume, shredding and discarding her ruined form as he clambered free.

His new body was larger and even more malignant. Numerous tongues spilled out like ribbons between his serrated teeth, and outcroppings of cartilage ripped out of flesh that stank like uncured leather. His fingers were abscessed stubs, and wedges of sharpened bone extruded from the sores, dripping with yellow puss.

Representative Parson turned his thousands of eyes upon them, rising slowly on frail and tumescent legs.

“None of this – none of it! – is good enough,” he croaked, wiping at the strange fluids that leaked from the corners of his hideous mouth. “I will not stand for it, Ériu.”

“Why? I thought you wanted to stay as you were.”

“You confused me,” Parson said, bones crunching in his distended body with each step he took toward them. “The Church has clarified my position.”

“You want to be your own person, the same as I do,” Eerie said, moving in front of Alex. “There’s no reason for us to fight.”

“I do not want anything. I care not for hats or dances,” Parson said, lurching toward them, leaving a trail of viscera behind him like a snail’s track across the cathedral floor. “Your attempts to persuade me have failed. I will not defy the Church. I have been promoted and replaced Mrs. Gimble. I am now a Senior Representative, and I will escort you to the White Room, Ériu, along with your sister.”

“No way,” Alex said, trying to move past Eerie. “No fucking way!”

“You are irrelevant,” the Senior Representative said, stretching out his barbed fingers. “You will be removed.”

“It’s about time you showed up,” Mitsuru said, helping Alex to his feet. “Are you ready for this?”

“I don’t know,” Alex said, rubbing his eyes. “I thought we won already.”

“You did not,” the Senior Representative said, blistered lips covered in a layer of pink slime. “You have lost.”

“Not yet,” Samnang said, helping Eerie up. “We are still alive.”

“Not for long,” Representative Parson said, undifferentiated tissue sloughing off his body with each step as he advanced. “Not long at all.”

“You sound so sure of yourself, John,” Emily said, joining them from an imaginary direction, stepping from a convergence of impossible angles. “The web of Anathema you built gives you all sorts of options, though, I suppose. It would be a shame if something happened to that, wouldn’t it?”

“You are part of that web, Emily Muir,” the Senior Representative said. “You are mine.”

“You are not the first to make that assumption,” Emily said. “Nor are you the first to be wrong.”

***

There was little reaction when she appeared in front of the Inverted Spire.

There was good reason for that, of course.

Leigh had been a resident until a few weeks ago, and news of her defection was likely not common knowledge. She was with the Anathema, as far as any of the disinterested crowd assembled at the base of the contoured silver tower was concerned.

Then there was the thing with the sky.

The sky was empty.

Not like it usually was in the Outer Dark. There were no stars, obviously, no celestial bodies of any kind, but the sky was not usually empty. There were the Horrors, for once thing, floating in their great shoals, haunting the Outer Dark with their tremulous cries, and there were worse things, too – things that were mostly concealed by the abyssal depths beneath the crystalline surface of the Outer Dark, or the frigid void above. Strange currents carried vibrant flows of dust and volcanic debris through the lower atmosphere, toxic clouds that poured from the adjacent mountains during certain times of the year.

All of that was gone, replaced by a ruddy glow at one end of the sky, silhouetting the mountains like the first signs of an impending dawn.

Leigh knew exactly what that was, because Vivik had shown her the burning garden, inserting one of his windows into her telepathic feed from the Far Shores, a new trick from a boy who was apparently still expanding the boundaries of his cleverness. She had watched the rose bushes smolder while she waited on the apport platform, the special one that Eerie had modified for impossible trips.

Like the trip she had just taken to the Inverted Spire, the heart of the tiny inhabited portion of the Outer Dark, the home of the Anathema and the followers of John Parson.

That second part was what had brought her here, while the rest contended with the disaster in Central.

This was the place where Leigh had been grown, and her thoughts weighed on her. The vat where she was decanted from the collected blood of a hundred vampires was probably somewhere beneath her feet, gathering dust in the vaults beneath the Spire.

Leigh pushed it from her mind.

The important thing was the Anathema, and her mission. Perhaps a hundred individuals, and all but a handful were inside the Inverted Spire or gawking at the deserted sky above it.

Every Anathema represented a potential resource for John Parson, another protocol he could borrow, thanks to the nanites implanted in them during their transformations. The Anathema served as a distributed power source for Parson, and Leigh was there to remove it.

This was not a personal affair, of course. Leigh had no appetite for the personal.

She was a perfected vampire and the strong right hand of Emily Muir. John Parson might have been the architect of her creation, but just lately, he was also the enemy of her employer. The Anathema gathered here, just now turning their worried eyes on the advancing vampire, were the source of his power.

Therefore.

Leigh flexed her fingers and her nails extruded, sharp as a barber’s razor and tapered to points.

A man called out to her as she approached.

A woman from the crowd said her name, and smiled hesitantly, as if she expected to be remembered.

Leigh did not bother with words, and she did not hurry.

There was no need for either.

There was nowhere for them to run, after all, and the dead do not require explanations.

The crowd got more nervous as she neared, sensing something from her stance or demeanor. The wariest started for the Spire, hoping to take refuge inside. Walking became running. Muttering became exclamations of wariness and alarm.

A woman stepped from the crowd to meet her, wearing a hopeful smile.

Leigh recognized her by her distinctive shock of red hair and rural Irish accent. She was a technician whose name escaped her, one of the many who had worked on her gestation in the bloody and hermetically sealed chamber beneath the Inverted Spire.

She spoke as Leigh approached, but the vampire disregarded her words.

There was no possible value in the words of a dead woman.

The technician approached with her hands out, open and defenseless.

Leigh struck her as she passed, opening her from her belly to just below her rib cage, taking care to sidestep the blood and shit and intestinal tissues that spewed from the catastrophic wound.

Leigh reminded herself not to go so deep as she leapt over the dying woman to land amid the crowd.

They were panicked now, screaming and yelling for help.

Leigh grabbed the nearest Anathema and lifted him in the air, and then hurled him into the mass of the crowd, bowling them over like hysterical pins.

A man tried to rush past her, out into the indefinite and endless plains of the Outer Dark, and she snatched him off his feet as he passed, smashing him into the ground and then crushing his head beneath her boot.

A woman hit her with a jet of flame that charred one of Leigh’s arms and half her face.

Leigh ignored her burnt skin and smoldering hair, leaping high and hitting the woman in the chest with both knees and riding her down, ribs crackling beneath her as they hit the ground. She drove her thumbnails into the woman’s eyes, pressing them in until the woman stopped gasping and kicking her legs.

Leigh was hit from behind with a length of pipe across her back, nearly knocking her over. She caught the next swing, ripping the pipe from the man’s hands and then striking him in the arm with it. A second blow clipped the top of his head and knocked him over. Leigh drove one end of the pipe into his chest, impaling him.

A gunshot knocked her to the side, piercing her ribs and collapsing a lung. She located the shooter immediately and went after them, bashing through the frantic crowd trying to flee the carnage.

A bullet went through her left shoulder as Leigh wrapped her hands on the barrel. The owner yelped as Leigh twisted the gun from her hands. Leigh smacked her in the head with the gun, felling her, and then battered her until her skull split like a windfall peach in the sun.

The Anathema ran, or cowered, or fought.

It made no difference. The vampire worked her way through them with lethal efficiency.

She gutted a telekinetic who buried her beneath tons of rock and broken crystal. She killed a combat telepath with his own knife.

Another telepath tried to take control of her body. He was still struggling with her implanted mental shields when Leigh broke his spine across her knee.

She took a fleeing woman from her feet with a lariat, and then kicked her head in. A man yelled incoherently as he attacked her with a fire axe, catching her in the left arm with the blade and cutting her to the bone. Leigh tore his throat open with her teeth and left him to gurgle and die.

She felled one Anathema after the other as she worked her way toward the entry to the Spire, sparing no one, and showing no regard for age, gender, or resistance.

Most died in the typical fashion, but some turned to cinders, or liquified, or transformed into clouds of colorful gas. Leigh paid no mind to them or their efforts at reconstitution.

Even if they did come back, she could just kill them all over again.

A handful of Anathema clustered at the sealed entrance to the Spire, trapped outside when fleeing survivors shut the gate. Leigh tore through them like a sharpened blade through reeds, cutting them down in turn. Blood splashed across the metal steps up to the gate, and the door dripped with fleshy detritus.

Leigh grabbed the door handle and pulled experimentally. It bent, but it held.

The vampire set her feet, shook out her hands, and then took a firm grip.

Leigh strained and the metal warped. She bent her knees and pulled again from a lower angle. The door groaned, and then the handle ripped free, taking a chunk of the door with it. Leigh tossed the handle over her shoulder, and then took three steps back.

She gave the door a running kick, and it bent, and the hinges rattled.

She stepped back, and then Leigh launched herself against the door a second time, her heel striking the center of the door. The hinges gave way and the door toppled. Leigh advanced into the Spire to finish the job, dripping with gore and tasting blood when she swallowed.

***

Mitsuru launched herself at the Representative, her blood blazing beneath her skin like mercury. Lord North waved his burning whip, the plasma arcing through the cathedral and scoring great furrows in the stone floor. Michael’s skin rippled and glowed with energy, the swirling designs of his tattoos blinding beneath his illuminated skin.

The Senior Representative swept Mitsuru aside and then lunged for Michael, grabbing him by the throat and lifting him from his feet.

Michael put his palm on the Representative’s sternum, and then a bolt of violet energy tore through him, leaving a behind a crater in his chest. Parson dropped Michael, cursing as he deflected another bolt with a wave of his arm.

Henry snapped his whip, and the corded plasma wrapped around one of Parson’s wrists, fusing his flesh to the bone beneath.

The Representative gestured at Michael. Mitsuru shouted as she climbed back to her feet, and Alex flinched helplessly.

Nothing happened.

“Oh dear. Did something go wrong?” Emily smiled as she tapped at her phone. “You’ve lost your Anathema, Representative. You’ll have no abilities but your own to rely on.”

Henry tugged back on the whip, and Parson’s hand was severed from his skeletal arm. Mitsuru opened fire with her sidearm, riddling his chest with hollow points.

“What did you do?” Rebecca grabbed Emily’s arm. “What happened to the Anathema?”

“What you should have done a long time ago,” Emily said coolly, pushing Rebecca away. “This is life or death, Ms. Levy.”

Michael fired a sustained blast that pushed Parson back, crushing the Representative against one of the standing walls of the Library. Henry lashed him with the Salamander Protocol, his whip searing through flesh and bone with ease. At a gesture from Xia, the smoldering wounds leapt into flame. Mitsuru activated a downloaded telekinetic protocol and cut the Representative’s ragged legs out from beneath him. Alice stepped out of the shadow of the Representative and put her revolver to his head.

The gun discharged.

There was a moment of intolerable brightness, an awful white that seared the corneas. Everyone was forced to cover their eyes.

It took several seconds of blinking and squinting for Alex’s vision to return. When it did, he groaned.

The Senior Representative stood, his form stretched and elongated to tower over them, his jaw dislocated to accommodate rows of teeth shaped like hypodermic needles, leaden blades extending out from his malformed fingers.

Alex looked to Eerie apprehensively.

“He’s gonna kill them. I have to do something…”

He started toward the Representative, but Samnang caught him before he took his second step.

“You must act, but not like that,” Samnang said, holding on to his arm. “The Church of Sleep cannot be opposed or defeated, but perhaps it could be moved.”

“That fucking stupid plan, again?” Rebecca said. “Maybe I can help.”

She came to stand beside Alex, taking his bloodstained hand in her own. She reached her other hand out to Eerie, who hesitated before gingerly taking it.

“Okay, then,” Rebecca said, smiling confidently. “You guys know what to do, right? Because I have no idea. I’m just along for the ride.”

Mitsuru leapt at Representative Parson, burying her knife in his chest. He slashed her with his bladed fingers and knocked her aside. She smashed into the ground, bleeding silver from a dozen wounds.

Lord North lashed him with the Salamander Protocol, whipping coils of crackling energy across the Senior Representative. Parson caught the whip and tugged North from his feet, laughing even as his fingers disintegrated in the plasma.

Michael launched a stream of pure energy, burning a hole through the Representative’s bony shoulder.

Representative Parson spun the whip about, tearing the handle from Henry’s hands.

Xia waved his hands, and the whip wrapped itself around Henry, winding about the Representative’s neck and searing his flesh and as it strangled him.

“It’s now or never, I suppose.” Emily suddenly appeared, her hair crackling with static electricity from the transition. She separated Rebecca and Alex, taking their hands in her own. “Shall we?”

Alex barely heard her.

He could not feel Eerie’s mildly chilly fingers, or Emily’s warmer grasp.

The familiar activation process of the Absolute Protocol rolled over in his head, and he reached into the Ether with an ease he had never felt before, tearing down the boundary between it and the Church wholesale. He could see it all happening, with his good eye closed, the infinite lines of the Church of Sleep deviating from their perfect parallels, bending toward the Ether like a galaxy caught in the event horizon of a black hole.

It was terrible and perfect.

He felt as if his heart might explode in his chest.

Rebecca and Emily charged about through his mind like firefighters contending with a blaze, dampening some hormonal activities while encouraging others, soothing overloaded neurons and mitigating nerve damage.

The catalyst effect rippled through the four of them, as their protocols reached unheard-of heights. The Kismet Protocol ensured that they all made just the right decisions, and they felt a shared gambler’s rush, the elation and surety of a moment when the dice produce only the right numbers.

Alex opened his mouth, and exhaled pure Ether.

***

Mitsuru lashed out with spinning telekinetic blades, severing one of the Representative’s arms at the elbow. Lord North snatched the handle of his whip from the ground and swung high and level, catching John around the neck with his searing whip, the coil vaporizing his skin as it pulled tight.

A ray of violet light punched through the top of Parson’s head, leaving behind a smoking hole.

Xia sent wave after wave of blue flame against him, burning his flesh clean from the bone.

The Senior Representative laughed and tossed them aside as if they were children with a sweep of his skeletal hand.

Alice stepped from his misshapen shadow and tapped him on the shoulder.

Parson turned around and smiled pleasantly at her.

“Alice,” he said. “I had almost forgotten.”

He turned toward her, matching her stature unconsciously.

“That’s my line,” she snapped, knocking Parson upside the head with the butt of her revolver.

He toppled, and she positioned herself above him, so that he lay in her faint and unsteady shadow.

***

They held Alex’s hands until that became impossible, until the cold became too great and they had to snatch away their frostbitten fingers.

Ether seeped from the walls of the cathedral and drifted through the stained glass. Alex trembled and shook like a prophet amid an ecstatic fit.

***

Hundreds of arms wriggled out of her shadow like black worms, tearing bits and pieces from the Senior Representative’s damaged form.

There was no blood.

The arms removed bone and viscera, leaving nothing behind but perfectly smooth indents in the flesh.

“I can’t remember anything,” Alice said, grinning, her face very close to his. “But I remember you. Why is that?”

“You always come back to me,” Representative Parson croaked, watching his disassembly with an amused expression. “As regular as Halley’s comet.”

He reached out and touched her cheek tenderly.

“We should not be enemies, you and I,” Parson said. “We are so alike.”

The hands from the shadow snatched the first joint from his fingers.

Alice put her revolver to his head and pulled the trigger. The gun discharged, blood and brain matter spraying out of the other side of his head.

The Senior Representative rotated his head around, unimpeded by the gaping hole about his eye, opening his bizarrely hinged jaws as wide as a python.

Parson seized Alice by the hair and lifted her from her feet, tossing her into his grotesque maw.

There was a moment of teeth and blood, enough time perhaps for a single scream, but Alice made no more noise as she was swallowed into the consuming dark of the Representative’s throat.

Michael screamed and there was an explosion of violet energy.

Representative Parson deflected it into the sky and advanced.

Parson bashed Mitsuru into the ground and knocked Lord North aside. He stretched out his scissor-fingers toward Alex, who was slumped halfway to the ground, his head lolling on his chest and his mouth wide open, frostbite blackening his fingers and discoloring his lips.

Gerald Windsor stood between the Representative and Alex. He did not as much as flinch as bladed fingers poised over his head.

“I thought better of you than this, John, despite everything,” Gerald said, the air around him crackling. “I really did.”

The Senior Representative laughed and brought the blades down on his head.

The razor-edged bone bit into Gerald’s scalp, just far enough to draw blood.

The air crackled and popped, and a surge of Etheric energy ran up the Senior Representative’s blade fingers, coursing through the tissue of his distorted body. He tried to move, or to groan in pain, and found that he could not.

Parson could do nothing, not even blink.

Gerald stood in front of him wearing a look of disappointment, blood trickling down from his serrated scalp, wrapped in a similar crackling aura.

“Now!” Rebecca shouted, cupping her hands around her mouth. “Hit him now!”

Lord North swung the whip overhead and wrapped it around John’s neck.

“Hold him like that!” Hayley shut her eyes and grabbed on to Rebecca’s arm. “I just need—”

Mitsuru emptied her pistol into John, putting every round into his chest.

“I’ve got him!” Hayley squinted, her nails digging into her palms. “One more—”

The Senior Representative howled, and a Horror burst into flames and began plummeting toward the ground.

Mitsuru dove, knocking Gerald out of the way a moment before the Horror came crashing down where he had just stood, burning a crater into the cathedral floor.

Hayley screamed and dropped to her knees, her head in her hands. Rebecca stumbled and whimpered.

Parson opened his multitudinous eyes and grinned hideously.

Hayley’s head exploded, coating Rebecca with viscera.

The Senior Representative laughed and lurched forward, aiming for Alex and the Changeling. Min-jun quickly raised a barrier about them, but Parson lashed at it with his cruel fingers, shredding the lime-green shield before it could solidify.

The Senior Representative broke through.

Eerie put her arms around Alex, ignoring the frost that spread across her skin, and closed her eyes.

Anastasia Martynova stepped from nowhere, an animate shadow swirling about her silken skirts. She frowned, and the darkness sharpened, rippling out from her skirt in abyssal rivulets that crumbled the stone floor and desiccated the pews. A tendril of pure black lashed the Representative, severing his hand at the wrist.

“I know you,” Parson said. “Why is that?”

“I am the Mistress of the Black Sun.” Anastasia planted her feet directly between the Senior Representative and Alex. “Is it not natural for you to recognize your superior?”

The Church brightened, brutal white light refracting from its impossible angles, blinding them all.

Eerie rubbed her eyes aggressively, and her vision cleared just in time to see the Senior Representative reach directly though Anastasia and seize Alex around the middle. Eerie cried out and tried to stop him, but the Senior Representative shoved her to the ground, and then tossed Alex into his yawning mouth, swallowing him as he had done Alice Gallow.

“No way,” Eerie whimpered. “That’s not right.”

Representative Parson finished choking Alex down his distended throat, and then turned his attention to the Changeling, gnashing thousands of needle teeth.

***

Alex opened his eyes and knew immediately where he was.

It could only be the White Room.

The room did not conform to any sort of dimensions, like the Church itself, stretching in cardinal and noncardinal directions as far as he could see, and further, he was somehow sure. His back was to one wall, and while he could see the wall across the room easily, it was impossible to estimate the distance.

He knew that he would never make it, should he try to reach it.

There was nowhere to reach in the White Room.

His skin prickled and stung all over. He noted his own nudity without surprise or alarm, just a sort of exhausted disinterest.

“You think this bothers me? Practically my whole life has been just this.”

Alex leaned against the wall and covered his eyes with his hands.

It didn’t help.

“It’s the waiting that does it,” he said, crossing his legs. “You can only wait for so long before it destroys you.”

His skin felt flushed and unpleasantly warm, as if he were in direct and intense sun.

“That’s why it’s best to have nothing and expect nothing.”

His good eye hurt, waves of steadily increasing pain washing through his face and skull, but his other eye was worse. It saw so much more clearly.

The pain went on and on. It reduced him to a heap on the ground.

He cried out.

He screamed and writhed.

He bashed his head against the ground and tore at his hair.

Alex trembled and shook. He rolled to his back and drooled all over himself, staring at the ceiling that was no different from the walls or the floor.

Just white. White and nothing else.

Worse than nothing.

The pain waned and waxed without any regard for his feelings on the matter.

It was very hard to think clearly, when everything was so overwhelming white. His good eye was in agony, and it seemed to make no difference if he kept it open or closed. His other eye had gone entirely blind and cold, and his eye socket throbbed and felt raw.

He screamed, and then wiped his face.

Alex jammed his thumb in the socket and tore the dead eye from his head.

He cast it on the perfectly white floor, and then laughed at the stain it left behind.

He sat up and leaned his head against the wall, ignoring whatever was leaking onto his cheek.

“You can develop a tolerance to anything,” Alex said, burying his head in his arms. “Pain. Loneliness. Everything.”

You are not alone.

The voice came from nowhere, or from nearby.

Alex stared into the white until he thought his eye might catch fire.

There was something, perhaps. A stain, or perhaps a shadow. Barely visible against the brilliant monotone of the wall that towered over it.

Was I ever?

Not really.

I suppose I should introduce myself, Alex thought, sitting up. My name is Alex, and I’m pretty sure I’m dating your sister. I, uh, really wish I wasn’t naked right now.

Which one?

Eerie. The one with blue hair.

The youngest.

Yeah. I think so.

That explains it, then. I wondered why you were still so intact.

What do you mean? I just got here.

Do you really think so?

Oh, shit. Time dilation.

Worse. The absence of time.

I guess we lost, Alex thought, unable to clearly remember what had happened. Did I get eaten?

The Representative sent you to the White Room. It would have been kinder to simply digest you.

Not to be rude, Eerie’s sister, but I figured that much out.

It must have been rude, because the voice in his head went silent, and no matter how much he yelled or cried or apologized, he was alone again.

***

Henry North lashed the Senior Representative with his whip and was struck in turn with a backhand that bowled him over. Only a timely barrier from Min-jun saved him from being cut to pieces.

Michael and Xia doused Parson in flame and violet energy, burning him down to the bone.

The Senior Representative snapped his distorted fingers, and they were blown back and set alight themselves.

“Too bad,” Samnang said, pushing her sleeves back as she walked toward Representative Parson. “It must be done.”

“Samnang, no!” Eerie cried out, reaching for her. “What are you doing?”

“Stop her,” Samnang said, not breaking stride. “Don’t let her follow me.”

“No! You don’t come back! You don’t—”

Emily caught Eerie’s arm and held her, ignoring her protestations.

“You shouldn’t try and interfere, dear,” Emily said soothingly. “Samnang’s very smart. I’m certain she has a plan.”

Samnang walked up to the Senior Representative and stood calmly in front of him.

She did not even make a sound as he lifted her from her feet and tossed her into his enormous mouth. He swallowed her down without a hitch.

“Perhaps she doesn’t have a plan after all,” Emily amended.

Representative Parson belched, and then charged them.

He was stopped short, an intangible black umbrella poking into his chest.

The Senior Representative burbled, something that looked like motor oil streaming from the corners of his mouth.

Anastasia stood behind him, smiling haughtily as she took her hand from the umbrella handle.

The umbrella solidified, impaling Representative Parson’s chest.

***

“Wake up! Alex!”

It was so unreasonable to be bothered this way.

He was not asleep. He wasn’t. So how could he…?

“You must get up! Right now!”

He was shaken and struck and yelled at. He tried to wait it out, but his assailant was determined.

“Okay, okay,” he croaked, peeling his face off the gleaming perfection of the White Room floor. “I’m up! I’m up.”

Awareness was a return to agony.

Not that it had dissipated, but at a certain point, he stopped paying his suffering quite so much attention.

He opened his remaining eye and took in the small figure standing over him, the characters on her cheeks shining a familiar sickly green.

“Samnang?”

“Who else? I told you I was never coming back here, so I expect your appreciation.”

“How long…how many years have I…?”

“Years?” Samnang scoffed as she helped him to his feet. “It hasn’t even been a full minute!”

“Oh, shit,” Alex moaned. “No way!”

“I thought I prepared you better than that. Listen to me, Alex,” Samnang said, raising his chin so he was staring into her eyes, which were the color of cartoon radioactive waste. “I need you to pay careful attention, because just being here is – I won’t last very long here. I’m already starting…”

Alex noticed that she was steaming and blurring at the edges.

“You’ve got to finish this, Alex. You were nearly there,” Samnang said, grabbing his hands. “You need to send the Church into the Ether. The White Room will burn you clean of yourself. You can’t stay here.”

“I know that,” Alex said. “But how?”

Samnang let go of his hands and looked around the floor.

She picked up his discarded eye, breathed on it, and then popped it back into his head.

Alex screamed and dropped to his knees.

“There is no inside or outside of the Church of Sleep. Here is as good as anywhere, Alex,” Samnang said, easing him into a sitting position. “You just need to finish it, okay? The Absolute Protocol. You were meant for this from the beginning. It’s the most natural thing in the world for you.”

Alex nodded woozily, his eyes trying to close despite his best efforts.

Samnang slapped him so hard that his ears rang.

“Sleep later,” she said, suddenly looking very translucent. “Please, Alex. Don’t let them do this to Ériu. I had to come back to where I never wanted to be. Make that worthwhile.”

He nodded and then closed his eyes purposefully.

With his dead eye, he could see everything just fine.

He watched the Yaojing collapse, the white walls gleaming through her already transparent form. Samnang writhed and diminished, scoured by the White Room into less than nothing.

Alex very nearly followed her, but then he was called back, by something less than a memory, the faintest ghost of a remembrance – the scent of sandalwood, and a vision of golden sparks and deep black eyes.

He focused, remembering Samnang’s instructions. There was neither inside nor outside.

Alex reached for the Absolute Protocol, and it met him halfway.

***

The Senior Representative shrieked, a banshee’s wail that carried across Central. The sky above the ruined library was illuminated as the last of the Horrors caught fire and rained down like meteors on the Mistress of the Black Sun.

Anastasia stood calmly through the bombardment, her skirts rippling with agitated darkness.

Representative Parson shrieked again and lurched forward, his distended limbs stuck together with a tarry blackness that oozed out from between his yellowed and calcified ribs. His fingers were massive chopping blades, and his mouth was a funnel lined with razors.

Anastasia folded her arms and waited.

His charge passed through her harmlessly.

The Senior Representative howled in frustration and threw his arms wide.

The ground fractured, deep rifts opening in the dirt. The cracks rushed toward Anastasia.

She held up her hand, and her skirts flared.

Darkness rushed out from beneath them, colliding with the tremors in the broken earth in an explosion of shattered crystal and black mist.

***

Alex tasted the Ether on his tongue and at the back of his throat, the acrid flavor of oxidizing metal and migraine headaches. The blood pumped sluggishly through his veins, coagulating as it cooled.

Ice crystals bloomed in his forebrain, destroying tissue and disrupting neural pathways.

Blackened tissue collected at the base of his lungs, weighing like lead upon his diaphragm.

All that was left of his mind was the cognitive machinery of the Absolute Protocol.

The Ether opened for the Church of Sleep like the arms of a lover.

***

The Church burnt and curled at the edges like a manuscript catching fire.

The Senior Representative reached for Anastasia and was repelled by a dark energy that radiated from within her. Their energies collided and appeared in flux as they contended with each other. The Senior Representative cried out and lashed Anastasia with a great surge of telekinetic power.

She closed her eyes and let it pass through her. Then she reached for the Senior Representative.

He disappeared just before her fingers closed on him. Parson reemerged from an impossible direction and grabbed at Eerie, narrowly missing. Rebecca cried out and made it halfway to her feet before Parson tossed her aside. The Senior Representative brought his scissor-fingers down upon Emily, but she turned to water and passed harmlessly between them.

Ten thousand black eyes focused on the Changeling.

Parson reached for Eerie, scissor-fingers extending from severed joints.

Mitsuru Aoki caught his arm and held on to it.

Her eyes were so red that they looked like globes of blood, but the veins beneath her skin burned a vibrant white gold.

She emptied her mind of everything but the protocol, tasting the candy Eerie had given her at the back of her throat.

Activation.

The eternal cloud cover above Central broke, and the Senior Representative of the Fifth Assembly of the Church of Sleep was struck with an unearthly radiance.

Radiant Death.

Parson struggled and cried out, while Mitsuru clung grimly to his arm, his tumorous skin dissolving into steam in her hands. Bathed in feral radiance from the heavens above Central, the Representative was flayed down to his splintered bones.

The sunlight devoured the Representative with a billion tiny teeth.

Epilogue

Strands of sleep clung to her stickily as she woke. Her dreams tasted of salt and chamomile and lingered on her tongue as she licked her lips. She mouthed words in an invented language and felt acute resonance, extended across this moment as every other.

Her names came to her, the old one first, and then the second, better one. The one he liked, and she therefore preferred.

The fear sank into her chest before she even opened her eyes.

Her heart in her throat, she rolled over and reached out, sighing with relief when her fingertips brushed his arm. He was in bed beside her, bare-chested and snoring with his mouth wide open.

“Sleepyhead,” she said softly, brushing the hair from his eyes and resolving to give him a haircut that week.

Her hair did not need to be washed again until Friday, and she had showered the night before, so Eerie dressed quickly, choosing her clothes from what was strewn across the floor. Black tights, jean shorts, and a hoodie with a skateboard logo she had appropriated from Alex’s closet.

It was a big day, but there was no need for anything fancy.

No one who mattered would see her.

Alex was still snoring when she finished her makeup, so she kissed him on the forehead and went downstairs for breakfast. There was grape punch in the refrigerator, made the way she liked it, so thick with powder that it was more gel than liquid, and a plate of jelly beans on the counter.

Eerie ate only the red ones but finished three glasses of punch in quick succession.

Properly fortified, she gathered her things and left the townhouse, following a little footpath toward the main campus of the Far Shores. Her route took her between the new buildings currently under construction, meant to accommodate the refugees who had decided to become permanent residents, rather than returning to Central. The dormitories were a temporary solution, but they were superior to the tents that a few of the refugees still occupied. The drab new buildings were starting to take shape beneath exoskeletons of scaffolding and framing, and a handful of workers were presently occupied pouring concrete.

She was frequently troubled by a debilitating fascination, during the short hours of her recent days, and was easily hypnotized by process and function. She lost hours in the contemplation of simple machinery and was entranced by the slow routines of the tai chi class that met regularly beneath her window. She might have stopped to watch the spinning vat on the back of the concrete truck on another day, but today was special, and Eerie had places to be, so she tore her eyes away reluctantly and hurried on.

She arrived at the first of her destinations to find Emily Muir sitting on a picnic table outside of the former Administration building. She was wearing her hair down, her lower tresses curled, and the sundress and sandals she wore made her look as if she planned to head to the nearby beach.

“Good morning, Eerie,” Emily said. “How are you?”

“I’m good,” Eerie said. “Thanks for breakfast.”

“I wish you’d let me make you something nicer,” Emily said, joining her. “Even cake or pie seems more substantial.”

“Too much bread,” Eerie said. “I’m good.”

“If you say so,” Emily said, holding the door for her. “How do you feel about today? Nervous? Excited?”

“You can tell, can’t you?”

“It would be rude not to ask,” Emily said. “Besides, your halo is inscrutable to me, dear.”

“What does that mean?”

“Don’t worry about it,” Emily said, leading her down a moderately busy hallway. “You seem nervous.”

“I’m not nervous,” Eerie said. “I’m scared. The club hasn’t met in months! Not once since Katya—”

“We have been a little busy.”

“I haven’t been to the Academy, either. I haven’t even set foot outside of the Far Shores, since…well, you know. Since everything.”

“The Academy was your home for almost your entire life. I’m sure that it has been difficult to leave it behind, particularly under such strained circumstances. Central hasn’t been a very welcoming place just lately, has it?”

“I don’t know if I’m not wanted,” Eerie said, following Emily into an elevator, “or if I don’t feel comfortable there anymore.”

“Oh, dear. Do you still blame yourself for what happened?”

Emily put her thumb on a scanner, and a little light in the elevator panel turned green. She pressed the second button from the bottom.

“I don’t just blame myself,” Eerie said, looking away. “I blame you, too.”

Emily smiled.

“Fair enough.”

“You could have told Alex about breaking free of the Anathema,” Eerie said. “He thought you would die if John Parson did.”

“We’ve been over this. I’m sorry I didn’t tell him,” Emily said. “But you could have told him yourself, if you wanted.”

“Yeah.”

“You didn’t.”

“It wasn’t my place, and I…I don’t like talking to him about you.”

“I understand,” Emily said. “Listening to him talk about you was my least favorite thing.”

“Yeah. Same.”

“Maybe you aren’t in the best position to criticize me for being honest with Alex,” Emily suggested. “Guilt does no one any good.”

“Now you sound like Rebecca,” Eerie said. “I don’t like that.”

“It’s only natural for empaths to be concerned with the people around us,” Emily said. “If it helps you any, I don’t hold you responsible. Anastasia had both hands in, and Gaul had been at it for years! Not to mention yours truly. You did less damage than some, and you had better reasons than most.”

Eerie threw her arms around Emily.

Amused and surprised, Emily patted the girl on her indigo head.

The Changeling did not let go until the elevator doors slid open.

“Do you think you’ll be okay, going ahead by yourself?” Emily took her hand as they walked down the short hallway, the air made humid by the collection of pipes than ran along one side of the cinderblock passage. “I have some meetings and a working lunch planned, but it’s nothing so important that I won’t reschedule if you need me.”

Eerie hesitated for a moment, assailed by her various worries.

Returning to the Academy was enough of a challenge, but today presented further obstacles. The necessity of the apport stations, for one, since anything but station-to-station travel was still impossible beyond line-of-sight, thanks to the lasting disruption caused by the displacement of the Church of Sleep into the Ether. That meant coping with long lines and inspections, as well as a certain amount of dizziness, dictated by the technician’s accuracy and engagement.

Adel oversaw the Far Shores apport station, along with the local branch of the Etheric Network, which was another hurdle. He was nothing but nice to her these days, but in a desperate and sweaty way that made Eerie profoundly uncomfortable.

Of course, visiting the Academy meant contending with Rebecca.

Least pleasant of all to anticipate was a visit she had not yet made to the cemetery.

It was better not to think about that, or she might start to cry.

“Why are you being so nice?” Eerie’s dilated eyes were wet. “I don’t deserve it!”

“If we all got what we deserved, I doubt I would be here,” Emily said. “Besides, we’re friends, aren’t we?”

“Yes,” Eerie said, sniffling. “Club members, too. You’ll be there tonight? On time?”

“I will,” Emily said, holding the door to the apport station for her. “You can count on me.”

***

Lord North took his coffee black, but the staff at the Administrative building could not help themselves when it came to providing accoutrements, so much of his desk was occupied by a silver tray crowded with potential options. A sugar bowl, three different kinds of milk – of which only one was dairy – a dish of lemon, a plate of biscuits, small jars of honey and cocoa, and a rainbow of artificial sweetener packets were all available.

Henry helped himself to coffee and hoped that his guest would put at least a little of the clutter to use. He wondered if the staff simply threw it all away every day and was appalled at even the thought of the waste.

Henry considered doing something about it, and then decided reluctantly that it was beneath his station as Chief Administrator to even ask about the garbage. Any involvement would demean him.

Arriving at that conclusion had become a regular occurrence in his life of late.

He checked his hair in the mirror in the corner and found it lacking. He took a comb from his pocket and went to work.

His secretary, Mrs. Garret, knocked twice before she let his ten o’clock in, allowing him to take his place behind his desk. The secretary was an inheritance from his old friend Gaul Thule, who had requested that Henry look after her in his will. The entire document was voided, of course, when the Thule name was stricken from the records and the cartel was dissolved, but Henry decided to honor the request regardless.

That had been a fortuitous decision, as Mrs. Garrett proved to be the only person in Administration who knew where everything was, from personnel files to payroll records. It only took Henry an afternoon to discover that her services were indispensable.

By the end of his first week, he had put Mrs. Garrett in charge of everything he did not manage personally.

“Good morning, Chief Administrator,” the young man said, his sun-bleached hair and freckled cheeks hinting at many hours spent out in the elements. “It’s good to see you.”

“You look well, Nathan,” Henry said, smiling as he guided the young man to a chair. “The new position agrees with you. Coffee?”

“Yes, please.”

“Do you take milk or sugar?”

“Black, sir.”

“Of course,” Henry said regretfully. “Something with it? A biscuit, or a muffin?”

“No, thanks. I’ve eaten already. Madison is doing nutrition and home econ at the Academy this semester, and she has given my household staff very firm instructions on the subject of the most important meal of the day,” Nathan said, laughing. “She’s not to be argued with, sir.”

“That is true of her mother as well,” Henry said, taking his seat behind the desk. “It is not a particular surprise that Madison would inherit her mother’s failings alongside her strengths.”

“I don’t mind, sir,” Nathan said, sipping his coffee. “I admire Madison’s spirit.”

“That’s good. I have high expectations for both of you.”

“As do I. Tell me, if you would, sir – has your daughter spoken of our engagement?”

“She has,” Henry confirmed, unable to keep the smile from his face. “Madison has spoken to Sofia and I at some length. I will not betray my daughter’s confidence, Nathan, but I do not mind telling you that her impression of you is extremely favorable. Even I, the architect of the match, have been surprised at how well the two of you seem to get along.”

“Is that so? Good. I think no less of her.”

“That said, her behavior of late has been more erratic than I would like,” Henry added. “She has become willful, and clashes with her mother regularly. Her academic performance has been more than satisfactory, but her behavior at the Academy has been uneven. A product of her age, I suppose.”

“I was difficult during my own teenage years,” Nathan said, putting aside his coffee. “I do not wish to waste your time, sir. You called me because we have business, I’m certain. Can I assist you in some way?”

“I’m certain that you can,” Henry said, taking a file from within the locked drawer of his desk, and handing it over to the young man. “Serafini Ricci continues to take her obstructive, if principled, stand in the Assembly, blocking the consolidation of the Hegemony into a singular force, preventing Kevin’s ascent to higher office, and therefore your own.”

Nathan inspected the files carefully, his lips occasionally moving along with his reading.

“She’s a dangerous one,” Nathan said, putting the file back on North’s desk. “Serafina was very well-liked at the Academy, and she’s popular with the other Great Families. She’s even more sympathetic now, after the murder of her parents. She is a blood relative of the Martynova family and counts several Great Families among her relations, and is a political ally of Darby Weathers and Emily Muir. Silencing her would be difficult, and anything further would be extremely risky. The Hegemony would protest vigorously if anything were to happen to her, and the Black Sun might very well do more than that.”

“A delicate situation.”

“I am certain that Lady Martynova is indirectly supporting Serafina’s political career, though I cannot prove it yet. Miss Ricci has the funding to buy herself friends as needed, when her ideals aren’t enough.”

“I agree with your assessment. Dear little Sara has always had friends in high places. Kevin is quite fond of her, as is Sofia.”

“How unfortunate,” Nathan said, pursing his lips. “What would you have me do?”

“I want to avoid open conflict with the Black Sun for as long as possible. Central is still half in ruins and depopulated. We cannot afford any course of action that would lead to war, and Lady Martynova has made it clear that Serafina enjoys her protection. We will need to do something more subtle than intimidation or removal.”

“You sound as if you have a course in mind.”

“I believe I have an angle of approach. Sara’s attachment to the Black Sun is the key. She is heart and soul of the opposition camp in the Assembly. The Great Families may be fond of her personally, but they are conservative by nature, and dislike anything that upsets the natural order of things.”

“I’m to find evidence painting her as a revolutionary, then. Or a traitor, perhaps?”

“The solution does not need to be so dramatic. I think showing her to be an unwitting tool of the Martynova family would be enough to discredit Serafina, and by extension, the entire opposition.”

“As you say, sir,” Nathan said, finishing his coffee. “I’ll get to work on this immediately. Unless there is something else?”

“Nothing that cannot wait,” Henry said. “I assume that you will attend this evening?”

“Oh, yes,” Nathan said. “My only regret is that I cannot take Madison with me, sir.”

“Youth is a brief and temporary condition, Nathan. Have patience.”

***

She deliberated between the station in downtown Central and the one in the basement beneath the Science Building at the Academy while she waited in the apport station line. Knowing what probably awaited her on the anticipated route, she elected to go downtown, though it meant taking a bus to the Academy. Her stomach was upset from the apport, and she nearly missed the bus in the station bathroom, clambering aboard the antique diesel bus just before the door snapped shut.

The driver accepted her old Academy pass at a glance, to her relief.

The bus was nearly empty, and she took a seat near the front. The route from the recovering core of downtown had changed due to damaged streets and ongoing reconstruction. Some avenues were blocked with concrete and rebar barricades and checkpoints, while others were choked off by toppled buildings, or divided by craters in the roadway.

There were little memorials everywhere, painted on the sides of ruined buildings or arranged at corners and porches. Eerie did her best not to look at the miniature shrines and their collections of candles, liquor bottles, stuffed animals, and moisture-warped photographs, but there was little else to distract her as they made their way slowly through Central, frequently halted by flagmen and heavy equipment crossing the road.

She was unable to relax until they left the city behind, reaching the open land that separated the Academy from the rest of Central. The rural checkpoints were largely demolished, only piles of rubble and an occasional torched car on the side of the road reminding her of the conflict. As they rolled slowly across blackened pastureland, Eerie sank back into her seat and closed her eyes.

There were only three stops along the route to the Academy, and she dozed off before they reached the first.

She was always looking for extra chances to sleep these days.

Every minute mattered.

Eerie was uncertain whether it was the second or third stop when she woke, the hydraulic hiss of the door mechanism jarring her from sleep.

She blinked her eyes and stared out the window, overcome by a powerful wave of nostalgia at the familiar view of planted woodland.

She had to check her tears, puzzled by the wildness of her emotions.

The bench shifted beneath her as someone took the seat beside her. Eerie snuck a glance at the new arrival out of the corner of her eye, and then she yelped.

Gerald Windsor sat next to her, wearing a bow tie and an ear-to-ear grin.

Eerie flung herself at him.

“Hello, Eerie,” Windsor said, patting her back. “It is very good to see you.”

“It’s been so long!” Eerie sniffled into his lapel. “I’m sorry!”

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” he assured her. “I’m very proud of the life you’ve made for yourself at the Far Shores. I have every intention of visiting you and seeing it for myself, just as soon as things settle down enough for me to take a weekend away.” He sighed theatrically, then winked at her. “It has been a hectic time of late.”

“I’ve been busy, too,” Eerie said shyly. “But I didn’t forget about you.”

“Nor have I forgotten you. What have you been doing with your time?”

“Sleeping, mostly.”

“Aha.”

“I’ve been studying, when I’m awake, and doing some programming,” Eerie added, feeling a little self-conscious. “Emily wants to build a decentralized iteration of the Network, and we’ve already started prototyping.” She turned her attention to the basket on her lap to hide her anxiety. “I might still want to be a network admin, one day, maybe.”

“I’m sure you’d be the best in the business, should you decide to do that. Administrators are in short supply these days. Adel still consults with our IT team from time to time, and he never fails to sing your praises.”

Eerie’s smile was entirely false, but if he noticed, then Gerald was kind enough not to say it.

“What have you been doing, Mr. Windsor?”

“I am still teaching the Advanced Studies class, as well as the final-year students. I’ve also been assisting Michael with the overall administration of the Academy, until he can find more qualified help.”

“No one is more qualified than you,” Eerie said earnestly. “I miss your class.”

“I miss chatting with you. I hope you don’t mind me saying so, Eerie, but you seem to have matured a great deal, in my view.”

“I feel that way, sometimes.” Eerie toyed with the frayed end of a loose strand of yarn that extended from her basket. “How did you know I would take the bus, Mr. Windsor?”

“Such are the times we live in, aren’t they? I’m pleased that you are careful enough to notice,” he said, laughing. “I knew where and when to meet you because there are no less than three promising precognitives in my current Advanced Studies class, and I offered them extra credit for making that determination.”

“Oh.” She blushed. “Why?”

“I wanted to talk with you privately, and I suspected that you might have obligations for the remainder of your time in Central. Also…”

“Yes?”

“I know that your relationship with Rebecca is strained at present. I was concerned that you might decide to avoid speaking to the faculty entirely, to avoid a difficult conversation, or that you might be afraid to seek me out at the Academy for fear of encountering her.”

Eerie considered it while the bus rattled along the final curves on the approach to the Academy. The damage here was relatively slight, though fire had consumed much of the grassland on one side of the road, and a few blackened cars still awaited removal in gravel turnouts beside the road.

“That could have happened,” Eerie said, as the Academy gate came into view, prompting another wave of nostalgia and heart-flutters. “I’m glad you met me instead.”

“My pleasure. I would also be happy to accompany you to your meeting with Rebecca, if it would help to calm the waters between the two of you. I have to admit that it pains me to see you at odds.”

“I appreciate it, but I have to do these things myself, I think.”

“That seems appropriate to me,” Gerald said, gathering his things as the bus rolled to a stop in the Academy parking lot. “Do you have plans for lunch?”

“I’m sorry. The Sewing Circle is doing a thing,” Eerie said. “I don’t really want to, but I have to go.”

“Ah! No choice, then. Too bad. I was hoping to introduce you to the Advanced Studies class. We’ve been doing something of an informal lecture series. I’d love to have you speak to my students, if you have the time at some point, about your experiences, or the Network, or whatever you like. Would you consider making another visit?”

“I never should had stayed away so long,” Eerie said. “I promise to come back soon.”

***

The port at Guangzhou squatted on the mouth of the Pearl river and looked out on the South China Sea, kilometers of chain-link separating it from the enormous city behind it. The nearby coast and the river delta were perpetually crowded with container ships, and the docks were surrounded by asphalt lots filled with regular stacks of steel containers in endless blocks of red and blue and grey. The roadways between the containers were littered with cigarette butts and paint chips, and the air smelled of coal smoke and spilled diesel. The rumble of the cranes and the cries of disturbed gulls that circled overhead were a perpetual din, and the line of idling trucks waiting entry into the port stretched back a kilometer and more in the afternoon heat.

She walked openly between the containers, the sticky ground trying to steal her sandals from her feet, her sunglasses insufficient for the equatorial sun. There was no reason to worry about being spotted.

The stealthy portion of the Operation came to an end the moment that the Chief Auditor decided to put Mitsuru into the field.

Her talents were not wasted on waiting and watching.

Mitsuru was a destroyer. That was her job, and she embraced it.

Mitsuru had, without noticing, assumed Alice Gallow’s former role with the Auditors. People started to flinch at the mention of her name and flee the room when she arrived.

That sort of treatment did not make her happy, but it did not feel wrong, either.

No one enjoys the company of monsters.

An alarm sounded in the near distance, a claxon that repeated in three-second loops.

Two rows further, Ms. Aoki, Brandon Cree informed her politely. They don’t look particularly surprised.

Noted, Mitsuru thought, picking up her pace just slightly. Is that alarm for me?

They found the guard you bumped into on the way in. We blanked the cameras, so they don’t where or who, but they know someone is inside the perimeter.

Great. How many?

Ten or so, but Ms. Levy has it tasked. She’s just waiting on you to start.

Ninety seconds.

Got it. Good luck, Ms. Aoki.

She did not respond, but she left the channel open.

Brandon was a talented telepath and remote viewer, even if he had primarily worked for Anastasia Martynova until just recently. His support would be valuable if things went wrong.

Given the nature of working in the field, things would likely go wrong.

Since the destruction of the Source Well was confirmed, Becca had kept the Auditors tasked with finding a new source of nanites. They had assigned researchers and hackers to focus on the synthetic nanite project the Black Sun operated in the Gobi Desert, sifted the ruins of the Thule manor in Iceland, and even rehearsed a potential nocturnal raid on the Far Shores, but this was the first real lead Analytics had been able to offer.

Mitsuru reviewed the meager data package from the telepathic briefing as she walked, trying to make sense of the shipping certificates and capital transfers that connected a shipment in this port to the now extinct Anathema. John Parson was known to have secured his own supply of nanites during the Anathema incursion in Central, so the shipping containers that had been left waiting in the stacks for weeks seemed as good a place to start looking as any.

Mitsuru picked up her pace as she neared the indicated row, the stacks of rusting containers forming a crude replica of a city grid, the distance between the rows the exact amount needed for the dollies and loaders to do their work. She was moving at a brisk pace when she rounded the flagged corner and her welcoming committee came into view.

The tactical overlay kicked in as her protocol activated, adding highlights and analysis to her field of view. A pair of snipers with hunting rifles placed on two of the container stacks were silhouetted with yellow, while red outlines identified the guards arrayed nearby, carrying assault rifles and shotguns, creating a perimeter for a welding crew that was already most of the way into the bottom container of one of the stacks.

Mitsuru broke into a run, hoping that the welding crew had finished the required cuts. The last thing she wanted to do was operate welding gear in the sweltering late afternoon sun.

Mitsuru could feel the heat of the scorching asphalt through the thick soles of her sandals. She connected to the Network and accessed a protocol she had downloaded before leaving Central.

The guards were professional enough to wait until they were certain of their shot, which gave her the time she needed to close.

Mitsuru activated her downloaded protocol and allowed a telekinetic barrier to deal with the bullets. The barrier stretched across her skin and clung like plastic wrap, invisible until it was struck, each bullet causing a brief white flare and a shower of blue sparks.

She felt not even a hint of an impact and did not so much as break stride when a round caught her in the chest. Eschewing cover in favor of speed, Mitsuru charged the gunmen.

I’m about to make contact, she advised Brandon. Tell them to be ready.

Ready and waiting, the telepath replied. Waiting on your signal.

The visual overlays shifted to accommodate her desires, shifting to target acquisition. Every living and breathing thing for a hundred-meter radius was outlined and tagged, turning her vision into a bewildering confusion of silhouettes. She fine-tuned the perimeters until only her targets remained, highlighted in an ugly shade of bright yellow.

Analytics read out behind her eyelids, feeding hypnagogic briefings to her each time she blinked, enumerating her opposition.

There were twenty-three likely targets in her immediate area.

Six were Operators, D-Class or lower.

Four were Weir, a rarity since the extinction of the Anathema.

She drew one of the guns strapped to the holsters she wore on her lower back, the contoured grip of the Kimber .45 fitting comfortably in her hand.

A pair of guards were concealed at the first junction, behind a stack of containers, shotguns at the ready. Mitsuru switched protocols, coiling her legs and launching herself to the top of the stack of containers with a telekinetic assist. She took careful aim at the would-be ambushers, who did little more than stare in shock as she gunned them down.

An early warning icon popped up as soon as she returned to her native protocol. Mitsuru dropped flat on top of the container.

Bullets whizzed overhead and ricocheted off the metal around her.

Her tactical overlay helpfully isolated the gunman who had her pinned down.

She switched protocols and activated a downloaded apport routine.

Activating it filled her mouth with the taste of lemons.

Mitsuru appeared behind the guard as he hunted for her with his scoped rifle. She drew her knife from its holster at her back with her other hand – she only carried one, these days, having put aside the need for a sterile blade – and advanced on him, sandals whispering across the asphalt.

The man startled when she slipped the blade beneath his chin, but he did not cry out until after she had slit his throat.

She activated the apport protocol again and was gone before the body hit the ground.

Mitsuru appeared among the welding crew, behind the guards and their close perimeter. The welding technician cut off the torch and flipped back her mask, crying out in alarm, while her assistant started to run away.

Mitsuru shifted protocols, feeling the strain as her implant heated, cooking her brain inside her skull like a poached crab in the shell.

Deploy, but stay in concealment. Wait for my command. We want prisoners, Mitsuru thought. I’ll handle the target.

One of the guards tossed his rifle aside, his oxford button-down tearing down the seams as his torso expanded and warped, great tufts of black and brown fur obscuring his features.

Another Weir burst from one of the alleys between the containers, towering over the guards in his bipedal wolfen form, misshapen teeth jutting from his slobbering jaws.

The other two Weir Brandon had warned her about were already completely transformed, a pair of great grey dogs with wet muzzles and immensely broad chests. One charged directly at Mitsuru, while the other trotted off to the side, looking to flank.

On my mark, Mitsuru thought. Go.

The aura of psychic invisibility that concealed the Auditors fell away, and they engaged immediately, already carefully positioned among their unsuspecting enemies.

Collette Higgins met a charging Weir with her knee, smashing the beast’s head against the side of the container.

Xia stepped in front of the bipedal Weir and the creature lit up like a bonfire, blue flames burning away fur and cooking the flesh beneath.

Maxim Pashkevich knocked a surprised Weir to its side, pinning its neck to the ground with his boot before emptying his pistol into its heaving chest, puncturing the lungs and splintering ribs.

Ksenia Medved closed her eyes, and a telekinetic whirlwind whipped up about her, turning every piece of debris into a potentially lethal projectile. The partially transformed Weir was beaten to the ground by waves of bricks, glass, and chunks of concrete. The second barrage broke bones, while the third reduced the Weir to a moaning, crumpled heap on the ground.

The nearby guards were even less fortunate.

Some of them would probably survive the battering.

“Good enough,” Mitsuru said, turning her attention to the technician highlighted by her overlay. She had been directing the welding crew until the Auditors attacked, standing apart from the guards with thick braids, bifocals, and a tablet that she clutched to her chest. “You are Talia Canton. You are wanted by the Director for questioning.”

“That’s not happening,” Talia said, taking a step back. “You don’t understand what this is.”

“This is over,” Mitsuru said, gesturing at the conflict behind them, as the Auditors quickly mopped up the remaining gunmen and corralled the battered Weir. “You are coming with me to Central.”

“Like I said, you don’t understand,” Talia said, touching her tablet. “This is a trap.”

The plastic explosive was expertly placed and shaped. An enormous explosion hit the Auditors from beneath, followed a microsecond later by the simultaneous detonation of paired charges mounted to the containers on either side, each propelling a payload of flechettes and metal bits. The concussive waves collided, opening an enormous crater in the road, and sending up a geyser of dirt and debris.

Talia watched this impassively, her fingers resting on the tablet.

The Auditors stood in the cloud of dust, Maxim’s barrier flickering brilliantly around them. Mitsuru stepped forward and put her pistol to Talia’s head.

“Please do not do anything that we will both regret,” Mitsuru said. “You are coming with us.”

Talia froze in place, saying nothing.

Are you okay, Maxim?

He nodded and brushed aside Ksenia’s offer of support.

I’m fine.

Chike, are you online?

I am, Chike confirmed. Waiting in the secure floor, as you requested.

Tell them to expect only one prisoner. Assume full Anathema and take every precaution. Talia Canton, technician for Alistair. Brandon has the relevant file on her presumed capabilities.

You got it. Shall I come and collect her?

Two minutes, Mitsuru said, eyeing Talia. I want a word.

“Okay, Maxim, good work,” Mitsuru said, holstering her pistol, but keeping her knife handy. “Secure the area.”

“Yes, Ms. Aoki,” Maxim said, stepping back. “You want a perimeter?”

“We won’t be staying that long. Get the others down from there,” Mitsuru said, pointing at the top of the container stack. “Search the area. I want any survivors taken prisoner. Don’t worry about us – I’m certain Talia knows better than to test me.”

Maxim nodded and trotted off. Mitsuru was privately thrilled with her collection of new Auditors – Collette, Ksenia, Brandon, and Maxim were all fully trained and field-tested, unlike the last bunch, which meant that little training was needed to make them Auditors, and questions of obedience never arose.

“I remember you,” Mitsuru said. “You used to work for Alistair.”

“I watched you die,” Talia said. “That was a good day.”

“Our reports suggest that most of the Anathema were killed by Leigh Feld, and whatever remained died when John Parson was destroyed. And yet here you are.”

“Here I am,” Talia agreed. “What luck.”

“How?”

“I never went through with it,” Talia said, shrugging. “I was just a hired gun for the Anathema.”

“That’s not what Analytics believes,” Mitsuru said. “They think you worked directly for Alistair.”

Talia just smiled.

“We know that John Parson had a personal supply of nanites, secured during the Anathema invasion.” Mitsuru watched the technician closely. “Any idea what happened to that?”

“I wondered why you would take such obvious bait,” Talia said. “You need a source of nanites, don’t you?”

“You know what I’m talking about,” Mitsuru said. “Good. Your interrogation won’t be a total waste.”

“What makes you think that?”

“I’m running three different analytical routines. Your body temperature and heart rate gave you away.”

Talia laughed.

“One more question,” Mitsuru said, taking Talia’s tablet and tossing it to the ground. “Where is Alistair?”

“He’s dead,” Talia said, smirking as Mitsuru put zip-ties around her wrists. “Don’t you even know that much?”

There was a cry from the other side of the wall of containers, and then a massive rumble, like the first tremors of an earthquake, as Ksenia’s protocol activated.

Report, Mitsuru demanded. What is happening?

There were gunshots – seven in total, from three different firearms, according to Mitsuru’s protocol – and then a blinding flash of light – multiple magnesium flares – and then a horrible wail that went straight to the back of her eyes and the roots of her teeth. Mitsuru grimaced and covered her ears while her protocol searched frantically for the source. The Auditors implanted psychic defenses were tested, simultaneously under siege from what felt like an army of telepaths.

Even in the depths of her distress, Mitsuru felt that the intrusion was somehow familiar.

An early warning system pinged.

Mitsuru lunged at Talia with her knife. The technician slipped the blade, coming away with nothing more than a shallow cut across her left bicep.

She was gone before Mitsuru could attempt a second thrust.

The noise and the confusion died with her disappearance.

Report, Mitsuru thought. What just happened?

I’m not sure, Ms. Aoki, Ksenia thought. We were attacked, or…at least, I think we were attacked.

I think so, too, Collette thought, coming around from the other side of the containers. I don’t see anything now.

We were set up, Mitsuru thought. Tell me we at least have a survivor or two for Central?

A Weir and one guard are still breathing, Brandon thought. I’ve instructed Central to prepare medics and restraints.

Let’s wrap this up. Mitsuru glanced around the ruined section of the port, only a remotely applied Isolation Protocol holding back the emergency services and security teams who dozed at the perimeter, unsure why they were ordered to wait. I want to get out of here before there are any more surprises.

Chike appeared a moment later, along with a couple of attendants lugging stretchers.

Mitsuru watched them remove the prisoners with a frown. Maxim glanced at her.

“Something is bothering you.”

Mitsuru considered ignoring Maxim but decided that would be unprofessional. She needed to set a good example for her junior.

“This was not our most successful Operation.”

“We took prisoners, with no losses of our own,” Maxim said. “Is that not success?”

“I don’t know,” Mitsuru said, mostly talking to herself. “There was something, at the end, that was…”

“What? What was it?”

Familiar, she almost said.

There had been a very familiar feel to the telepathic intrusion, something almost intimate.

“Nothing. Get ready for apport,” Mitsuru said. “Let’s get out of here.”

***

The introduction of this year’s club officers was followed with the induction of new members, requiring almost the entire time allotted for the lunch meeting, which was fine with Eerie. She paid little attention to anything that was said, and no one asked her to say anything other than joining the chorus of assent at each prospective member’s nomination. She noticed people sneaking looks at her, of course, and heard occasional whispers, but she was accustomed to stares and gossip.

It still bothered Eerie, of course, but she was used to it.

Fortunately, there was plenty to distract the curious. The Mistress of the Black Sun was in attendance, surrounded by retainers and new pledges, while the wife of the Chief Administrator, Sofia Morales-North, sat on the other side of the room with her daughter and the children of their allied cartels. It was the first time the two had been seen together publicly since their standings had changed, and speculation as to the tenor of the encounter was rampant.

Nothing happened aside from a polite greeting when Sofia and Madison first arrived, but that did little to dampen the enthusiasm of the members.

The lunch was pasta and salad, but someone was thoughtful enough to provide Eerie with a bowl of sweets. The Changeling ate a strawberry candy out of politeness, and then snuck a few of the lollipops into her pocket for later.

The meeting was adjourned without bringing her any special notice.

Eerie almost made it to the door before she was intercepted.

Mai Quan, personal attendant to Lady Martynova, blocked her way, towering over Eerie in her modest black dress and practical shoes.

“If you would come with me,” the maid said. “Your presence is requested.”

The maid led her into a back room, as Eerie expected.

Anastasia waited at a table that was empty save for her teacup. She wore a frilly dress that was black in some lights, while in others it was nearly the same deep blue as Eerie’s hair. Her earrings and broad necklace were gold and antique jade.

Her hair was straight and longer than Eerie remembered. Her makeup was perfect.

Renton stood behind the Mistress of the Black Sun in one corner, smirking at Eerie, while Mai took her position in the opposite.

Anastasia gestured for Eerie to take the chair across the table, but she did not smile.

Eerie took a seat and waited, twisting her fingers in her lap.

“It has been some time, Ériu,” Anastasia said. “I trust that you are well?”

“Eerie is fine, please. I’m sorry I only came to…I’m sorry I missed the other funerals.”

“I did not expect that you would come,” Anastasia said. “Nothing is as of yet expected of you in that regard.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean only that you are presently…involved, shall we say, with a member of the Black Sun,” Anastasia said, the corner of her lip twisting in a way that Eerie suspected was a suppressed smirk. “The current Lord Rostov, as a matter of fact.”

“Emily already told me that Alex didn’t agree to any of that stuff,” Eerie said. “Whether he wants to be Lord Whatever or not is for him to decide, when he wakes up.”

“The Lordship was mine to do with as I chose, and I have bestowed it upon Alexander Warner nee Rostov. A quorum of the Great Families has endorsed the grant, and it has been recorded in the official rolls of the Assembly. He is free to respond to the situation however he might wish, of course, but he is Lord Rostov whether he wishes to be or not.”

“I don’t agree,” Eerie hummed. “Alex is Alex. He’s not some guy in a castle or something. He’s not beautiful or complicated, like you. That’s not him.”

Anastasia inspected her coolly. Eerie clenched her trembling hands around the handle of her knitting basket.

“You have changed,” Anastasia said. “You did not used to be so certain of yourself.”

“You changed, too,” Eerie said, lowering her voice. “There isn’t much left of what I used to be able to do, but I can see that much. There’s a little piece of the Outer Dark inside of you. You know that, right? You must know. It talks to you when you sleep.”

Anastasia sipped her tea, her face an exquisite mask.

“You are very strong,” Eerie said. “That won’t stop it from eating you.”

“Won’t it?”

“It will just take longer.”

“I see. It is for the best, then, that no such situation exists.”

Anastasia caught Eerie’s eyes for just a moment, before the Changeling cast them into her lap.

“I really hope you feel better,” Eerie said. “But I can’t help you.”

“No? Not even if I could offer a reward?”

“Nuh uh.” Eerie shook her head. “It’s impossible for me.”

“I had thought that the impossible was your stock-in-trade.”

“Not anymore. I’m all used up.”

“You do not look reduced in any way to me,” Anastasia said. “I suppose that I must take your word on it.”

Eerie stood up from the table.

“I have to go,” the Changeling said. “I have a lot to do today.”

“As do I, I suppose,” Anastasia said, finishing her tea. “I look forward to Alex introducing you formally to society. Have no anxieties as to my approval – I fully intend to negotiate your ascent to a name and title, just as soon as the two of you are ready for marriage. I might even offer my blessing to my cousin and his bride at the ceremony.”

“I don’t want that.”

“You’ll be rich and important.”

“I don’t want to be those things, either.”

“You must want something, Ériu.”

“I just want Alex, and everyone to leave us alone.”

“We do not always get our way,” Anastasia said. “That is the inherent tragedy of the world.”

“I don’t really get it.”

“I doubt that,” Anastasia said. “I suppose that I will see you tonight?”

“I know I should go, but I don’t really want to.”

“It is a great deal less appealing without a date, is it not?”

“You could have a date, if you wanted. You could have a lot of dates.”

“My station curtails me in that regard. Propriety and other such nonsense.”

“You could if you wanted to,” Eerie insisted. “You are a queen, or something. You have Renton, if you want him, or that one boy with the amazing cheekbones…”

“Now you have my attention,” Anastasia said, leaning forward. “Whom do you mean?”

“You know. The scary one who turns invisible.”

“Ah. The young Lord Gao.”

“If you say so. I’ve heard rumors. Do you like him?”

“I do not dislike his company.”

“So, you do?”

“That remains to be seen. How is Alex?”

“Oh, you know,” Eerie said. “The usual.”

***

“I’m surprised that you don’t need to be in Central,” Leigh said. “All the other players will be.”

“I don’t have the status or the talent to justify attending the Sewing Circle,” Emily said, blowing on a fork full of poached egg and avocado. “That’s for Great Ladies and dedicated crafters, and I am neither.”

“Yeah, but you are in charge of the Far Shores, aren’t you? I figured that would be enough. Maybe you could do a sampler or something and win them over.” Leigh helped herself to another piece of toast. “What do I know? I just beat people up.”

“You do more than that,” Emily said. “Give yourself a bit more credit.”

Leigh shrugged and chewed.

“Do you know where Vivik is, dear?”

“No,” Leigh said. “Why would I?”

“I just thought you might know,” Emily said, giggling. “I don’t know what got into me.”

“I haven’t seen him in a week,” Leigh said irritably. “If you call, I’m sure he’ll come running.”

“Don’t get upset. I was just teasing.”

“Tease someone else. Do I have work today?”

“Nothing for a few hours,” Emily said. “I have something very interesting planned for the afternoon for you.”

“I’m going to get in a nap, then. What about you?”

“As a matter of fact, I’m expecting company,” Emily said. “A gentleman caller.”

***

The disorganization of the Audits building as a whole was legendary, but the messy, paper-strewn heart of it all was the wing inhabited by the Chief Auditor, who lurked in the first office in the hallway like a troll beneath a bridge composed of takeout containers and neglected paperwork, waiting to ambush the first unwary Auditor or administrative staff that wandered by with errands and baroque coffee orders.

Mitsuru knocked as she entered the Chief Auditor’s office, wrinkling her nose at the disarray and the empty soda cans stacked beside the overflowing trashcan.

“Hi, Mitzi,” Rebecca said, from the floor behind the desk. “Come in and sit down. I was just taking a power nap. I found a book on management in Gaul’s old office, and I was trying out some of the suggestions.”

“I see,” Mitsuru said diplomatically, clearing a stack of untouched field reports from a chair and taking a seat. “How is that working out?”

“I’ve had mixed results,” Rebecca said, climbing into her chair. “Naps make me groggy, and putting butter in your coffee is gross, particularly yak butter. Even if it is organic.”

“Yak butter?”

“It’s expensive as hell,” Rebecca groused. “North keeps bitching about that.”

“Where do you even get yak butter?”

“The internet. Where else? I’m more enthusiastic about the guided meditation.”

“You are meditating?” Mitsuru tried unsuccessfully to keep the suspicion out of her voice. “How is that going?”

“Great! I put on my headphones and start the recording, and then I fall asleep like that,” Rebecca said, snapping her fingers. “Total relaxation.”

“I’m not sure anyone has attained enlightenment in their sleep, Becca.”

“I’m not going for enlightenment, I want efficiency and, uh, what was it?” Rebecca flipped through a book on her desk that bristled with a multihued forest of Post-It notes. “Aha! ‘Neural plasticity’. That’s it! I’m going to be like one of those tech assholes, sleeping two hours a night and making my neurons more, uh, plastic.”

“I don’t think that’s how this works.”

“I don’t know. I’m an executive and I’m wearing jeans at the office, so I must be doing something right. I don’t think I’ve really figured out the microdosing thing, yet, but it’s only been two days.”

“Becca!”

“What?”

“Microdosing?” Mitsuru put her hand to her forehead. “You mean that you’re taking drugs?”

“What else does one microdose?”

“I’d prefer just about anything.”

“Too bad.”

“I’m almost afraid to ask, but what sort of drugs?”

“Acid. LSD.”

“What?”

“Don’t worry! The dosages are tiny. I barely hallucinate at all.”

“I don’t even know what to say,” Mitsuru said. “Where are you getting these drugs?”

“The same place I get my weed,” Rebecca explained. “I confiscated it from students at the Academy.”

“You are a terrible example,” Mitsuru scolded. “Why does Michael even let you be alone with the students?”

“He trusts me,” Rebeca said. “You should do the same. How’d it go today?”

“You saw the report.”

“I didn’t actually. Tearing up little pieces of blotter paper evenly is tricky. I might have gotten the dose wrong this morning. It’s a little hard to read right now. The letters keep moving around the page.”

“Oh, Becca,” Mitsuru said. “You are a disgrace.”

“Lucky for me, the bar for measuring a decent Chief Auditor is pretty low. Any luck with the raid in Guangzhou?”

“It was a setup.” Mitsuru gave her a quick rundown, and then a more complete version, once Rebecca got interested. “There was nothing in the container, except for the explosives they used to try and blow us up. That intel on it being a stash for the Anathema was certainly nonsense.”

“That’s a lot of risk and loss for an ineffective trap,” Rebecca said. “Who would do that?”

“I don’t know,” Mitsuru admitted. “It’s the third rogue Operation we’ve turned up in two months, and we still have no idea who it is we are dealing with.”

“I have an idea.”

“You think it’s Alistair,” Mitsuru said. “You’re crazy.”

“I’m tripping, not crazy,” Rebecca said. “Leaving aside the mystery of ‘who’, any progress on the ‘why’?”

“I don’t know,” Mitsuru admitted. “To watch our new personnel work in the field? Or maybe they want to draw us out in the open, away from Central…”

“They don’t need to try that hard. We are easy to find.”

“What do you think, then?”

“I have no idea,” Rebecca said. “I just know when something is up, and let me tell you, Mitzi, something is definitely up.”

“Yeah,” Mitsuru said, remembering the strange feeling, at the end. “That telepathic attack. I thought for a moment that…”

“What about it?”

“Nothing,” Mitsuru decided, shutting down her internal speculation on the subject. She was not about to give any credence to Rebecca’s absurd suspicion. “Do you have anything else for me? I need to shower.”

Rebecca studied her briefly, then shook her head.

“You can go.”

Mitsuru nodded and headed for the door.

“Hey, Mitzi?”

She paused with her hand on the doorknob.

“Yes?”

“Are you coming tonight?”

“I have to, don’t I?”

“More or less. You got a date?”

“No,” Mitsuru said, trampling any feelings that might have emerged. “Why?”

“Because I’m asking you to come,” Rebecca said. “Wanna go with me?”

***

The cactus garden had been rebuilt and expanded, while the spit of sand it occupied at the terminus of the Far Shores had receded, so that the Sea of Ether crept up on the edges of the perimeter fence when the tide was high.

They strolled leisurely among five- and six-year-old agave and saguaro, imported from desert nurseries.

She wore a short white dress, though the perpetual gloom above the Far Shores blocked all but the faintest ghost of the sun, and heeled sandals despite the loose sand of the path. He wore a dark-blue suit, cut to conceal his sidearm, and a yellow pinstripe tie. His smooth cheeks were clean-shaven, and his hair was oiled and tied back. She preferred it when his curly hair was down at his shoulders, the way the dark coils bobbed and trembled with every movement, but she kept that opinion to herself.

“I want to apologize for the delay,” Kevin said, a blush appearing on his broad cheeks. “I had meant for our formal courtship to have begun by now.”

“I know that you have had difficulties, Lord North,” Emily said. “The vote for assuming control of your cartel was one thing, but it seems that consolidating the rest of the Hegemony will take some time. You are not without opposition, sir.”

“Unfortunately, that is the truth.”

“I voted for you,” Emily said, with a pert smile. “Thank you for restoring my vote.”

“That is just the beginning. Have no doubt that I intend to fulfill the remaining terms of our agreement, in full and in public.”

“You make it sound so romantic,” Emily said. “What girl could resist?”

“I’m sorry for that, too,” Kevin said. “I know our situation is less than ideal.”

“I’m not upset, Kevin. I’m just teasing you. I know that you are doing your best.”

“I appreciated your endorsement and your vote. I think it helped with some of the outliers in the Assembly. You are not without supporters, are you?”

“I hope so,” she said. “It was good to see the Muir name returned to the Assembly roles.”

“It was my pleasure to see your family’s reputation officially restored.”

“Speaking of family, I do hope that yours is well?”

“My father is consumed by his new role, and my mother is much the same,” Kevin said. “That is how they prefer it to be, so I believe they are quite happy.”

“And what of Madison? I hear that she is the star pupil of the Advanced Studies class.”

“She excels in Mr. Windsor’s class. The other reports from the Academy are mixed, I’m afraid.”

“You are worried,” Emily observed, glancing just above Kevin’s head, a strange habit he had noted in her before. “What troubles you, Lord North?”

Kevin turned his attention to the Sea of Ether.

He knew that he had to trust Emily Muir at some point, for this arrangement to work. There was no advantage to a wife who was not also his ally and confidant. He did not know when that might be the right thing to do, however.

They were not yet engaged, nor even publicly courting.

“Lady Ricci’s stubbornness does not only impact me,” Kevin admitted. “Lord Drava is adversely affected as well.”

“I remember Nathan, from school. He was always ambitious.”

“I would say that he still is.”

“Little Maddy is promised to him, is she not?”

“She is.” Kevin nodded. “The engagement will be made official as soon as he takes office.”

“I see. So, both his position and his marriage are delayed, thanks to Sara.”

“Yes.”

“Are worried for your advancement, Kevin? Or are you worried for Maddy?”

He hesitated, once again torn on how much to tell her.

“I am worried for my sister, of course. That said...”

Emily smiled and led him to a bench with a view of the Sea of Ether, where they sat, not quite touching.

“You are a good big brother, aren’t you?”

“I don’t know,” Kevin said, cheeks burning. “I like to think so.”

“I like that part of you,” Emily said. “I had an older sister, you know. Therese. She did her best for me, though I hardly appreciated it at the time.”

“I’m sure she knew how you really felt,” Kevin said. “Madison slammed a door in my face last night and screamed at me during dinner the night before. I know how she feels about me anyway.”

Emily smiled and shifted slightly closer, so that their knees touched.

“I like this side of you, Lord North,” she said, giggling. “So wise and earnest!”

“You are teasing me again,” he said gruffly, red to the ears. “Aren’t you?”

“Maybe just a little,” Emily said. “Is it Madison that you feel you can’t trust, or is it Nathan?”

He had to think about it, but she was content to wait.

“I don’t trust her when she is around him.” Kevin shook his head. “They are a negative influence on each other, if that makes any sense.”

“It would be best if you put this aside, given all that is required of you at present,” Emily said. “If you don’t mind my involvement, Lord North, please allow me to look into the matter. I will be discreet.”

“I would appreciate your help, Lady Muir. Very much.”

“Please don’t call me that!” Emily covered her mouth. “Lady Muir was my mother.”

“No,” Kevin said, looking her in the eyes. “You are.”

“Oh, my, Lord North.” Emily batted her eyelashes. “You are in rare form today. If you continue, I may swoon, I warn you.”

“Then I may continue,” he said, taking her hand. “If you do not mind.”

“I do not.”

They were quiet, and in that quiet, Kevin found himself acutely missing the sound of waves.

It simply was not a sea, in his mind, without them. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Emily stiffen.

“This is a private conversation,” Emily said coldly. “I do not appreciate eavesdropping.”

Kevin spun around, and discovered Chief Auditor Levy standing behind them, dressed casually and looking pissed. An apport technician stood not far behind her, one hand resting on the garden wall, a queasy look on his face, obviously exhausted by the effort an apport from Central to the Far Shores required. Kevin checked them for weapons automatically, but neither was armed – which made sense, when he stopped to think about it.

Rebecca Levy had no use for weapons.

“I hate to interrupt you two,” Rebecca said, popping a square piece of nicotine gum out of a blister pack. “Really. But we gotta talk, Emily.”

“Now?”

“Yup.”

“Is this official business, Ms. Levy?” Kevin rose slowly and kept a smile on his face. “Or something personal?”

“Let’s call it personal,” Rebecca said, chewing her gum. “For now.”

“Do you mind, Lord North?” Emily smiled at him, but her eyes were all business. “We won’t be long.”

He nodded and stepped a small distance away, turning his back as if he meant to regard the Sea of Ether. He was obviously still in earshot, but neither woman seemed to mind.

“Well?” Emily demanded. “What do you want?”

“I gotta be back in Central in a minute, so I’ll make this quick,” Rebecca said. “You destroyed the Source Well.”

“I did not,” Emily replied – and just from her tone, Kevin could picture the haughty smile on her face. “How could I?”

“You had Alex do it.”

“Alex is his own person, and he does not work for me,” Emily replied coolly. “Take it up with him.”

“I did,” Rebecca replied. “He didn’t even seem to understand what he’d done.”

“I see. Is that all?”

“It is not fucking all. I saw the request you put in to attend tonight.”

“Is that so wrong? As I recall, I was rather helpful in resolving the whole affair.”

“I don’t get you, Emily. What are you after?”

“I’m just a girl alone in a cruel world, making her way as best she can.”

“Don’t joke around with me. You’ve occupied the Far Shores,” Rebecca said, her voice so menacing that Kevin shivered. “You’ve collected quite the little crew, there, too. A vampire, a Changeling…”

“Yes, yes. While we are on the subject, let me tell you about something else I have, Ms. Levy.”

“Gonna brag?”

“Just a little,” Emily said. “Before Alex destroyed the Source Well, I had the opportunity to preserve some of the water. It was the obvious thing to do, as a good citizen of Central, I think.”

Kevin froze in shock.

“I figured as much.”

“I’m sure you did. What would you say if I offered you some, for the Academy, from my private reserve? You won’t be able to do any Introductions without nanites, after all.”

Kevin snuck a look out of the corner of his eyes, to see Rebecca fuming, cheeks flushed with rage, while Emily sat calmly on the bench, grinning smugly at the Chief Auditor.

“I’d ask what you wanted for it,” Rebecca said, her voice low and furious.

“Nothing audacious,” Emily said. “A small promise.”

“Yeah? What’s that?”

“I will provide you with sufficient nanites for at least a few years of new students,” Emily said, beaming at Rebecca. “In return, I ask only that you do not perform any Introductions for any of the Black Sun families, or Lady Martynova’s allies.”

Kevin watched in stunned silence while the Chief Auditor tried to kill his fiancé with a glare.

“Do control yourself, Ms. Levy,” Emily said. “I’m afraid you’re not in a position to threaten or negotiate. I’m not at all frightened of your Auditors, and if we are not equal in empathy, I have at least enough talent to defend myself.”

Rebecca balled her fists, and Kevin tensed up, wondering if she meant to attack Emily.

“I’ll think about it,” the Chief Auditor said, turning away suddenly. “Watch your back, Emily. You’ve made some enemies in all this.”

“I like to think I’ve made more friends than enemies,” Emily said brightly to Rebecca’s back. “One more thing, Chief Auditor.”

Rebecca stopped in front of the apport technician, but she did not turn around or reply.

“I expect you to approve my request to visit Central this evening, as a goodwill gesture,” Emily said, calmly smoothing out her skirt. “I do look forward to seeing you at the party.”

Rebecca made no reply. The apport technician nodded wearily in response to a command that Kevin did not hear, and then they disappeared. As soon as Kevin was sure that they were gone, he hurried to Emily’s side.

“That was alarming,” he said. “Are you okay?”

“I’m just fine, Lord North,” Emily said pleasantly, patting the bench beside her. “Shall we resume our conversation?”

“I have to ask,” Kevin said, as he sat beside her. “Do you really have the only nanites left in Central?”

“Not exactly. John Parson acquired some during the Anathema invasion of Central, and I’ve no idea what happened to them,” Emily said. “Lord Thule also had a supply, which is likely in the hands of whatever remnant of the Thule Cartel has managed to survive Anastasia’s purge.”

“How do you know that?”

“I gave it to Lord Thule, in exchange for his assistance,” Emily said, taking his hand. “I needed access to his family crypt, or I would have gone the way of all the rest of the Anathema, when John Parson died.”

“I see.” Kevin licked his lips. “Does my father know?”

“I’m certain that Chief Administrator North is quite aware of the situation,” Emily said cheerfully. “He is very eager to see us married, is he not? I believe a portion of the remaining nanites will serve as a sort of dowry, should all parties involved decide to proceed.”

Kevin blushed as he considered it.

“My dear Lord North, you have nothing to worry about,” Emily said, squeezing his hand. “I have such plans for us!”

***

Michael expected his two o’clock appointment – the latest disciplinary discussion with the brilliant and troublesome Miss Madison Morales-North – so he did not even look up when he heard a knock on his open door.

“Come on in,” he said, frowning at his monitor. “I’ll be with you in just a minute.”

“Uh, okay.”

The voice was both familiar and surprising. He jerked his head up and grinned. Michael hurried around his desk, and then gave Eerie a hug that lifted her from her feet and nearly crushed her ribs.

“Eerie! It’s so good to see you.”

“You, too, Mr. Lacroix,” she said, entirely squished. “I’m sorry I haven’t visited.”

“I completely understand,” Michael said, inviting her to sit in one of the office chairs. “Can I get you something? A soda, maybe? I have a refrigerator behind the desk.”

“Wow.” Eerie’s eyes widened. “You’re important!”

He laughed and got her a bottle of orange soda, twisting the cap off before he handed it to her.

“How have you been?”

“Things are okay.”

“You don’t sound sure.”

“I’m not,” Eerie said. “I’m happy, but I’m also lonely. Sometimes I’m frightened.”

“I can understand that,” Michael said, cracking open his third Diet Coke since breakfast. “You left a great many friends here at the Academy when you moved to the Far Shores. I think it’s only natural to feel lonely in a new place, even if you are doing well. Fear can become a habit, too – I know that from experience.”

“I can’t imagine you being afraid, Mr. Lacroix.”

He noticed that she was avoiding meeting his eyes and laughed.

“You are worried about my face, aren’t you?”

She nodded without looking.

“I feel bad. Does it hurt?”

He reached up to touch the scars automatically. There were knots on his scalp and forehead, knobby upwellings that erupted from his skin, but the worst of it stretched from above his eye all the way down his cheek, a pitted canyon that radiated pink ridges of scar tissue.

That eye was basically useless in daylight or darkness, and his vision was blurry in even optimal indoor conditions, but his other eye was reasonably intact, aside from a scar on the cornea that forced him to wear a tinted contact lens.

“It doesn’t hurt, and it doesn’t bother me,” he said, with complete sincerity. The doctors at the Academy had described his recovery as miraculous, and Michael was inclined to agree. Dark moments aside, he felt predominantly grateful. “Please don’t let it upset you.”

Eerie looked at him shyly.

“I wish I was there when you got hurt,” she said. “Maybe I could have helped.”

“I’m glad you weren’t. You might have been hurt yourself.”

“I feel so bad,” Eerie said. “I’m so sorry this happened to you.”

“What happened to me is not your fault, Eerie,” Michael said. “Alistair and I were on a collision course. After everything he did, there was going to be a reckoning. If anything, it’s my fault for not being prepared. You need to make an honest assessment of your actions before you can properly apologize, you know. I’m not saying that you’re entirely blameless, but to apologize for something you haven’t done is a bit narcissistic.”

Eerie nodded, looking miserable.

Michael held out his arms, and she hugged him, bursting into tears on his shoulder.

“There, there,” he said. “Everything is going to be fine.”

“It won’t, though,” she said, sniffling. “Nothing lasts.”

“That’s what makes it all precious,” Michael said. “We get a few beautiful moments, if we are lucky, and it’s up to us to make the best of them. Do you feel like you’re making the best of your time?”

Eerie nodded slowly, wiping tears away with her sleeve.

“I think so,” she said, “but I could probably do better.”

“That makes sense, though, doesn’t it?” Michael smiled as he handed her a box of tissues. “That’s a basic quality of any good person.”

***

The greenhouse was stifling, the humidity and heat adjusted to the preferences of orchids. That had sounded like a bad idea to Rebecca, but the reality of it was worse than what she had imagined. She sweated through her blouse before the servant led her to where Lord North was busy with clippers and a miniature spray bottle.

“Good afternoon, Chief Auditor,” Henry said, dismissing the black-suited butler with a jerk of his head. “You are only twenty-two minutes late today. A commendable eight-minute improvement over last week.”

“Fucking hell, Henry. This place is a sauna,” Rebecca wheezed, fanning her face with the manila folder she carried. “How do you survive it?”

The weak sunlight of Central necessitated a whole galaxy of grow lights, and their combined radiance upgraded the facility from oppressive to suffocating.

“I suppose I’ve become accustomed to it,” he said, looking a trifle offended. “I will be done in a moment.”

“I’ll be dead by then. Is this some sort of power trip?”

“A reminder, perhaps, of our respective places. We may be peers, Chief Auditor, but we are not equals.”

“Assholes like you are the reason they invented the guillotine,” Rebecca said, sweat dripping from her everywhere. “Can we get on with it?”

Henry laughed, setting aside his trimmer and spray bottle.

“I can see why Gaul liked you so much. Your candor and absolute lack of charm are such a refreshing change of pace.”

“Flatterer.”

“Anything to get what I want.” He untied his apron, and then took her gently by the elbow. “Shall we step outside, then? The garden might be more to your taste.”

He led her outside to a small courtyard, where a gravel path twisted about beneath white-barked sycamore and flowering heather. A few beds of flowers were scattered about, and several broad lawns, but the lack of sun precluded most of the familiar garden staples.

A wrought-iron table was laid out for tea beneath a canopy not far from the greenhouse.

“Oh, thank God,” Rebecca said, starting toward the table. “I’m parched!”

Henry caught her by the arm before she took a second step.

“I will be taking tea with my wife, who will be here shortly,” Henry said. “You will be gone before that, and you can find your own tea.”

“How stingy,” Rebecca said, sighing as she shoved the manila folder into his hands. “Here, then. For you.”

He did not open it.

“What is this?”

“Did you forget how to read?”

“Let’s pretend that I did. What is this?”

“It’s an authorization for an Inquiry into the death of Katya Zharova.”

“I see. You plan to investigate the death of an Auditor under your own command?”

“That, as well as a certain incident in your past. A Black Sun assassination attempt, purportedly involving Katya, and your father’s rumored response to it.”

“She is dead, Chief Auditor, as is my father. I have already told you that there was no such attempt, much less any sort of retribution.” Lord North paged through the file with a tired expression. “What purpose does this serve?”

“I told you what would happen if I thought you were lying to me,” Rebecca said. “I never had a chance to talk with Katya about any of this before she died. That’s too bad.”

“How inconvenient,” Henry said bitterly. “Do you suppose she would have indicted me?”

“Not at all.” Rebecca gave him a cold look. “She probably would have lied to me. I really don’t like it when people lie to me. We empaths tend to take that as an insult.”

“The girl is dead, closing that avenue to prove my innocence.” Henry smirked. “Can I expect a fair and impartial investigation?”

“I plan to be scrupulous and thorough. It’s very important to me that I’m wrong about this, Henry. I will jump at any chance to prove myself wrong.”

“You are a puzzle, Chief Auditor. You wish to disprove the conclusion you have already jumped to?”

“I’ve made no conclusions. All I know is that I’m being lied to, and that makes me suspicious. Suspicion is all I have right now. It would be best for everyone involved if that was all this came to.”

“Why is that?”

“If I’m right, then I’ll have to do something about it,” Rebecca said calmly. “You don’t want that, Chief Administrator.”

The butler reappeared, giving Lord North a nod before trotting off again.

“My wife has arrived,” Henry said moodily. “Do you have any actual progress to report? Or did you come all the way out here simply to accuse me?”

“We’ve made some progress. I’ve got some theories. Nothing concrete yet, but you’ll be the first to hear when we do.”

“See that I am.”

“I already said I would.”

“Fine, then,” Henry said. “You are dismissed, Chief Auditor. I will see you later tonight.”

“Sure, Henry, whatever,” she muttered, stomping off in the opposite direction from the one the butler tried to direct her. “Have a nice tea party.”

The butler pleaded and hovered, but she ignored him.

She nearly collided with Sofia Morales-North on her way out. She was trailed by a servant, a blonde young man with freckles and slicked-back hair that Rebecca would have preferred to the nagging butler who escorted her.

“Chief Auditor,” Sofia said, stepping aside gracefully. “A pleasure to see you.”

“Yeah. Listen, Sofia. You better keep a close eye on Henry, okay?”

“Why is that?”

“Being the last man standing isn’t the same thing is winning,” Rebecca said, nearly pushing the butler over when he tried to interfere. “You may be on top, but you are also on thin ice, and I’m right there underneath it, like…like some kind of ice shark.”

Sofia stared, while Rebecca bit her lip and slowly turned red.

“There…uh, there are ice sharks, aren’t there? Like, white ones that eat penguins? That’s why they named the hockey team that, right?”

“I worry that you are not getting enough sleep, Chief Auditor,” Sofia said. “Are you certain you are quite fit for your position?”

“I’m not fucking around, Sofia. I’ve opened an Inquiry, and I’m going to follow it wherever it goes. Fair warning.”

“An Inquiry?” Lady North raised a perfectly maintained eyebrow. “Into what, exactly?”

“You know what. Better hope I don’t find anything.”

Rebecca stomped away, brushing off the butler’s attempts to guide her.

“Might wanna keep an eye on your daughter, too,” Rebecca called out as she left. “She’s becoming a real handful.”

***

The cemetery was not particularly large, as most residents of Central were buried in family plots elsewhere. There were many new graves for the orphans and Administration staff who had died in the conflict with the Thule Cartel, fresh bouquets of imported flowers scattered across freshly carved marble.

Her path wound through the section reserved for Auditors and Academy staff, among new rectangular cuts in the soil. Eerie passed by the plain white stone that marked Alice Gallow’s resting place, though Eerie heard that they had not found a body to inter, and a grey memorial for Grigori Aushev that was covered in cut roses. There was only a simple metal plate set flush with the ground for Karim Sabir, as his remains had gone back to Mosul. The marker for Hayley Weathers was situated beneath a green willow and was similarly modest, but Eerie knew there was a large mausoleum at a private cemetery in Central proper where Hayley and the rest of her family were buried.

Eerie stopped to visit Margot first, at the back of the Auditor’s section, placing the smaller of the two bouquets next to the simple marker, not because she cared less, but because the vampire had always hated flowers.

“I miss you every day,” Eerie said, her fingers resting on the marble, the sharp edges of the engraved stone not yet dulled by the elements. “I know that you came to like Alex, even though you never said it, so I think you’d be happy that I’m looking after him. I wish you were still here.”

There was more Eerie wanted to say, but the words would not come, so she just stood there, staring at the name on the stone, overwhelmed by grief and nostalgia.

Eventually she forced herself to move on, taking a roundabout way to the other grave she needed to visit, walking the whole perimeter of the cemetery before she finally arrived at the second headstone, not really very far from where Margot was buried.

The marker was larger than Margot’s, done in pink-flecked marble, with gilded Cyrillic lettering and Black Sun insignia.

This was not the only place that Katya Zharova was buried. Her ashes had been divided, one part remaining here, while the other was taken to the Martynova burial grounds, in the woods near the family dacha, and laid to rest with honor, in a plot near the Martynova family mausoleum, beside her brother Timor’s resting place.

Eerie had attended that funeral out of a sense of obligation.

The Changeling would have preferred to skip it, but her friends had needed her, so she had stood with Emily and Vivik, holding their hands as Katya’s coffin was lowered into the ground, listening to a man in gold and white robes speak lyrically in Russian. Eerie could not understand a word of it, but something in his tone had provided a certain amount of comfort.

Despite that, she had delayed this visit as long as she possibly could.

The funeral had been a requirement, Eerie understood, and this was goodbye. She touched the headstone gently.

“You understood what I was doing better than anyone,” Eerie said, surprised that she was not crying. “You still helped. You always helped. You never ran away when I needed you, and you never turned your back on me, even when I was selfish. You never…”

She choked up and had to take a moment to regain her composure.

“I wish it had been almost anyone else. I have so many things that I want to say to you, and now…I guess I will just never say them.”

The wind whipped up and tore through the woods, going about its business in defiance of the importance of the moment. It blew Eerie’s hair into her mouth and her eyes, and as she brushed it aside, she felt a profound and ridiculous resentment.

“It isn’t fair,” she said. “I’m so sorry.”

She put the flowers on the grave, and the wind immediately rolled them off.

“You saved my life and you saved Alex,” Eerie said, picking up the flowers before the wind could carry them away. “You never asked for anything. You joined my club, and we were together in the Outer Dark. I’m really afraid that I’ll never have another friend like you.”

She ran her fingers across Katya’s name in the stone, like it was braille and she could read it with her fingertips.

“I’m sorry it took me so long to visit, but it hurts. It still…I’m sorry. I’m sorry Alex hasn’t come to visit yet. He doesn’t know that you’re gone. He’s still asleep.”

Eerie closed her eyes, clinging to the tombstone for balance.

“You were right to warn him about me,” Eerie wailed. “He’s still asleep, and that’s my fault.”

Sniffling, she searched around the grave site until she found a small rock, and then replaced the flowers on the grave, weighing them down with the rock.

“He loved you,” Eerie said. “I think you were the first person he ever really cared about, and I also think you taught him how to care for me. None of this would have happened without you. I wish I could pay you back, somehow.”

The wind riffled the blossoms and snatched at the plastic wrapping, but the bouquet stayed in place.

After staring at the headstone for a long time, Eerie nodded.

She wanted to say something else – a million things, really – but she knew if she said any more, she would start to cry, so she stood quietly until it felt like she had been there long enough.

Eerie meant to say goodbye, but the heaviness in her chest was so crushing that it felt as if her sneakers sank into the damp soil with each step, the weight of her grief sitting firmly on her shoulders as she started back to the Academy, feeling that the day had already been very long.

***

If pomp and circumstance were a shield, then Henry North was well protected for his first official reception of the Mistress of the Black Sun.

On consultation with his wife, he met her in formal dress, in the reception room of the old manor outside Central, lining the entry with servants and making certain that Sofia was beside him, dressed glamorously and bedecked with his grandmother’s jewelry.

His wife had the hunting trophies accumulated by three generations of Norths removed before the visit, considering Lady Martynova’s perceived sensibilities, and while they waited for their guest, Henry found his eyes drawn to the white spaces where the mounts of caribou, water buffalo, and ibex had been.

It hardly felt like the room he normally received visitors in.

Even the jaguar- and tiger-skin rugs had been removed, replaced with unfamiliar Turkish carpets. It felt like an entirely different room, and left Henry ill at ease in what he still considered his father’s house.

Arriving early or late would have sent a message. Lady Martynova arrived precisely on time, in a motorcade of five armored Mercedes, each with a feathered black exterior characteristic of carbon fiber.

She was preceded by her bodyguard, Renton Hall, who made a quick inspection of the premises before escorting her from the car. Her lady’s maid, Mai Quan, followed at her heels.

The Mistress of the Black Sun kept tailors in Paris, Beijing, and Tokyo. Henry had no idea which had produced the intricate silk dress she wore, cut in a classic Chinese style and accented with gold and crimson embroidery, her hair styled and ornamented to match.

Sofia moved to greet her after she was announced, and Henry followed suit, smiling politely and offering a short bow. Anastasia greeted him demurely, and took the chair his servants offered, but refused tea.

“Thank you for having me,” Anastasia said, her eyes as dead as her father. “My compliments on your home.”

“I’m glad you made time for us in your schedule. I know that it is a very busy day,” Sofia said, allowing Henry to guide her back to her seat. “There were far too many people at the meeting, and I’m sure tonight will be the same.”

“It seemed important that we speak,” Anastasia said. “I assume that you wish to extend the truce that was struck during the Thule conflict.”

Her tone was chilly, and her stare was frigid and dark.

“Indeed. Central has seen enough of war,” Henry said. “Don’t you think, Lady Martynova?”

“I believe conflict is inevitable,” Anastasia said, “but not always desirable.”

“Nothing is inevitable,” Sofia protested. “This is a new day, with both the Hegemony and the Black Sun under new leadership. This is an opportunity to put old feuds and rivalries aside and look instead to the future.”

“The Black Sun is indeed under new leadership, but I am less certain of the Hegemony.” Anastasia looked calmly at Henry, and something about her flat eyes made his skin crawl. “I have heard that a test vote for unification of the Hegemony under your son’s leadership has failed, Chief Administrator.”

“On a technicality,” Sofia said. “The Hegemony has not had a unified leadership in generations. It will take some time to iron out all the wrinkles and soothe the worried parties, but my son will assume the office in due time, I assure you.”

“It is on that very subject that I wished to speak with you,” Henry said. “You are known to be close with Lady Ricci.”

“She is my cousin,” Anastasia said. “Familiarity is to be expected, is it not?”

“Quite so,” Sofia interjected. “We are all very fond of Serafina.”

“Of course,” Anastasia said. “Who would not be?”

“As fond as we are of Lady Ricci,” Henry said, “her political positions have clashed with my own of late.”

“Is that so?”

“It is, Lady Martynova. Since you know of the outcome of the recent vote, you must also know that your cousin is the heart and soul of my opposition within the Hegemony.”

“I am aware,” Anastasia said. “I consider that an internal Hegemony matter, however.”

Henry hesitated, feeling acutely the pressure to choose the correct words.

An accusation of tampering could easily lead to war, but anything less could easily be perceived as a request for the Black Sun to intervene in Hegemonic affairs, setting a disastrous precedent.

“We have had little success negotiating with Lady Ricci directly,” Henry said. “We therefore wondered if you might act as meditator and assist us in resolving this impasse for the betterment of all.”

“I understand what you want of me, Chief Administrator,” Anastasia said. “What I fail to understand is why I might wish to assist you in this matter.”

“It would not be only myself that you would be assisting,” Henry said. “Serafina Ricci would be the primary beneficiary of your intervention.”

“She has put herself in a precarious situation by defying the will of the Assembly-at-Large and the recommendation of the Board,” Sofia said. “We do not wish any harm to come to Lady Ricci, but we cannot speak for the whole of the Hegemony.”

“Which returns us to the issue,” Anastasia said. “If you cannot guarantee my cousin’s safety from your own allies, then you cannot be said to speak for the Hegemony at all, can you?”

“If we have the votes to unify the Hegemony, it will be a small matter to ensure Miss Ricci’s well-being,” Henry said, straining to maintain his jovial expression. “We are prepared to compensate you for your assistance – in an entirely confidential manner, of course – and our offer for Lady Ricci’s cooperation is more than generous. Would you review it, please?”

A telepath from among his servants stepped forward. Anastasia nodded to her maid and her bodyguard. Renton squinted, but his slight grin did not fade, while Mai winced briefly, before resuming her impassive expression.

There was a delay while the telepaths presumably relayed his offer to their Mistress.

The maid looked pleased with herself, while the bodyguard grimaced and pleaded with his Mistress with his eyes. Henry had no idea what to make of any of it.

Anastasia blinked, and then slowly nodded.

“You have reviewed the offer?”

“This proposal does appear to be equitable. I compliment you on your efforts to craft a solution that allows each party to salvage something from the situation.” Anastasia fixed him with her icy stare, and again, he felt a sense of repulsion that mystified him. “My compliments.”

“Wonderful,” Sofia said, clasping her hands. “You will mediate, then?”

“No,” Anastasia said, letting her refusal linger for an extra moment. “I will not.”

“Why not, Lady Martynova?” Henry asked. “You said yourself it was a fair offer.”

“More than fair,” she agreed. “Which is the problem.”

Henry glanced at his wife, who could only shake her head in reply.

They were outside the tolerances of Sofia’s prescience, in unknown territory.

Henry hated that more than anything, but there was nothing for it but to press on and hope they returned to anticipated outcomes.

“I am no longer interested in childish concepts such as ‘fair’ and ‘equitable’, Lord North, and I am certainly not inclined toward compromise,” Anastasia said, sounding as if she were bored by the entire encounter. “I find myself far more interested in honor, and justice.”

Henry felt a surge of panic, while his wife went entirely pale and silent beside him.

“I am sorry to say that I did not come to hear out your request. I was simply being polite.” Anastasia brushed an invisible speck of dust from her dress. “I have come to inform you personally that the Black Sun has decided not to accept the apology proffered by the Hegemony for the assault on my family. I do not believe that the Thule Cartel has been completely extinguished, and I accuse your cartel, and the rest of the Hegemony, of concealing and harboring the survivors. Accordingly, the Black Sun intends to hold the entirety of the Hegemony responsible for the attack in Harbin.”

“That is absurd!” Sofia looked positively ill. “We just fought a war against the Thule Cartel alongside your forces!”

“My wife is right,” Henry said. “You must know that the Thule Cartel was fully responsible for that reprehensible bombing. An Inquiry has been conducted, and we were exonerated. Gaul Thule victimized us all, Lady Martynova, and I believe his intention was to plunge us into a conflict that would eventually destroy the entire cartel system. Lord Thule is dead, and his family with him. There is no need for us to play into his hands, Lady Martynova.”

“I intend to oppose you nonetheless,” Anastasia said. “My honor demands it.”

“What more can your honor require?” Sofia shook as she spoke, no doubt recalling the grisly details of Josef and Pavel Martynova’s funerals. “You filled an entire grave with heads! How much more death will it take to satisfy you?”

“Not so much more,” Anastasia said, extending her hand to Renton so he could help her to stand. “A few families need to be pruned, and then Central can enjoy the peace you spoke of earlier.”

“You are young, but I have never known you to be foolish,” Henry said. “I implore you to reconsider this course of action, which can only lead to further misery and suffering for all of us.”

Anastasia smiled for just a moment, and her maid and bodyguard hurried to her side, the rapid movement making his household guard nervous.

“You may offer your surrender, if you wish,” Anastasia said. “You and your children will be exiled from Central and stripped of all offices and holdings, but I will guarantee your lives.”

“You have become an angry and bitter girl,” Sofia said, “and you shame your father’s memory with your conduct. You bring shame on your entire family!”

“My great-grandmother was a prostitute. My grandfather was a tong leader who extorted merchants,” Anastasia said. “My father was a murderer and a tyrant. The Martynova name is well beyond shame.”

“I will take this before the Assembly,” Henry said. “You have no cause.”

“I do not need a cause,” Anastasia said. “I have a voting majority in the Assembly. I take it that you do not plan to surrender?”

“Not at all,” Henry said, suddenly very angry. “What an absurd suggestion! We are more than capable of opposing the Black Sun, should you be so foolish as to provoke us.”

“Then you will live to see your children’s funerals, but not much longer,” Anastasia said, turning on her heel and making for the exit, her servants hurrying after her. “A bold prediction, I know, but I’m certain that your wife will confirm it for you.”

***

Eerie stopped by the kennel attached to the Science Building to play with the dogs. The researchers were used to her at this point, and they just waved her into the secured labs with an offhand greeting.

The Changeling had visited once or twice a week, since Hayley’s dogs had been moved back to the Academy from the Far Shores, and not just because it was fun. She felt obligated to stop by, though the dogs were well-cared for, and destined to be parceled out to families, once the reconstruction in Central was further along.

She worried that the dogs would miss Hayley.

They always seemed happy to see her, but she was not sure if the dogs remembered Hayley or not, or if that even mattered.

***

Renton drove several blocks before he snuck a glance at the rearview mirror.

Anastasia sat alone in the backseat, her eyes closed, and her face contorted into a gruesome snarl, as if she were in the most terrible pain imaginable.

The expression disappeared, and then one of her eyes cracked open.

“Do pay attention to the road, Renton.”

He was halfway across Central when he decided to risk it. He rarely had a chance to speak to her outside of Mai’s presence, after all, and if he didn’t take this opportunity, it could be days before he got another.

“Are you sure about this, Ana?”

“Be specific, Renton. Which of my actions are you questioning?”

“That whole thing with North back there,” Renton said, slowing for traffic in the recovering suburbs. “Are you sure that you want to go to war with the Hegemony?”

She gave him a very peculiar look, and he was certain that she was about to explode in anger. Then she chuckled, and he was left with a feeling of disquiet, bothered by the notion that there was something not entirely right with her eyes.

“Do you think I am incapable of it?”

“Not at all.”

“Do you intend to oppose me or to argue?”

“No.” He felt mildly sick to his stomach. “I’m with you no matter what.”

“As long as you are beside me, I have nothing to worry over,” Anastasia said, closing her eyes again. “Whatever happens from here, know that you will be at my side until the very end. Take heart, my troublesome and beloved servant. You never know, something good might happen along the way.”

He navigated the next few blocks in silence. When he glanced at the mirror, Anastasia was biting her lip, her face white with some secret pain or anxiety that he could not diagnose or alleviate, but that seemed to haunt her with regularity, since the funerals.

“You don’t seem at ease,” Renton said. “Do you still want to go tonight?”

“I am obliged to attend.”

“You’re the Mistress of the Black Sun,” Renton countered. “Fuck obligation.”

“I appreciate the sentiment, if not the language.”

He smiled but kept his eyes on the road.

“There will be dancing tonight,” Renton said, risking another glance at the mirror. “Have you picked out any partners?”

Anastasia did not even crack her eyes to glare at him.

“I have not.”

“Not even Daniel Gao?”

“I am not amused by your jealousy,” Anastasia said. “You had your chance.”

Renton pushed against the steering wheel until his shoulders ached in their sockets.

“Prepare your heart,” Anastasia ordered. “I cannot spare you the sight, nor consider your feelings on the matter. Unless you no longer wish to remain beside me?”

Renton shook his head.

“It’s like you said. You and I together, Ana. Until the end.”

“Don’t be sad, Renton. The end may come sooner than you expect.”

***

Eerie saw Rebecca coming from across the quad and fought down a perverse desire to run the other way.

Then Rebecca grabbed her and swept Eerie into a tight embrace.

The Changeling did not notice that Rebecca was crying until she felt tears on the back of her neck.

It took only slightly longer for Eerie to realize that she was also weeping.

“I’ve missed you, kiddo.”

Eerie nodded, unable to get a word past the tightness in her throat.

“Are things okay at the Far Shores? Is everyone being nice to you? Are you being good?” Rebecca fidgeted, unsure of what to do with her hands without a cigarette. “I worry, you know!”

“Everything is fine.”

“Oh. Good. That’s…that’s good.”

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine! Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Because Central is scary,” Eerie replied promptly, “and your job is very scary.”

“I can’t argue with that,” Rebecca said, ruffling Eerie’s hair. “What happened to your hair? You decide to go darker or something?”

“Yes,” Eerie said, touching her hair self-consciously. “I did.”

She had last dyed her hair the week before the Church of Sleep manifested, but Eerie suspected that her hair was just a tiny bit bluer every morning since Alex had sent the Church into the Ether. Since she did not herself understand why her blonde hair had turned a natural cobalt, she had no intention of discussing it with Rebecca.

Eerie yawned, covering her mouth sheepishly.

“You seem tired,” Rebecca said. “I hear you are sleeping a lot.”

“Who told you that?”

“I’ve got friends at the Far Shores. I hear stuff. I keep tabs on you.”

“Oh.”

“So?”

“I’ve been a little sleepy, I guess.” Eerie shrugged. “It’s not a big deal.”

“I see,” Rebecca said. “Nothing to do with Alex, then? You’re not, say, helping him out with his sleep deficit at all?”

“I don’t know what you mean,” Eerie said. “About helping. He’s asleep. I can’t, uh, can’t sleep for him.”

Eerie looked down, her cheeks burning.

“Because…?”

“Because I can’t do impossible things,” Eerie mumbled. “Not anymore.”

“Yeah, no more of that, because your protocol is gone. Since you helped with the Church, it just went away. I mean, everyone knows that Changelings age out of their powers.”

“Yes,” Eerie nodded. “They said that in class.”

“Because it’s true,” Rebecca said, touching her shoulder. “Isn’t that right?”

“It was a stage. I grew out of it.”

“That’s what I’ve been telling everyone. It’s for the best that you remind everyone of that, too, every chance you get. Bad people will come after you, if they think otherwise,” Rebecca said. “You’re too valuable to ignore, unless...”

“Unless I can’t do anything special anymore,” Eerie said. “Which I obviously can’t.”

“That’s good. You know, I was just telling Michael the other day that I wished the kids at the Academy would get a little more sleep.” Rebecca looked Eerie in the eyes. “I wouldn’t care if they all went to bed early.”

“All of them?”

“All of them,” Rebecca confirmed. “As long as they get up in time for class.”

“Students need their rest,” Eerie said slowly. “Thank you.”

“I particularly wouldn’t mind if that meant that Alex woke up a little sooner, because the burden was distributed a bit,” Rebecca added. “Not like that’s possible, but, you know, just as a passing thought.”

Eerie hugged Rebecca fiercely.

“You were always my favorite, you know,” Rebecca said. “Still are.”

“You are mine,” Eerie said. “Except for Alex. The very best grownup.”

Rebecca laughed.

“That’s good to hear. Maybe I did something right.”

“You did. You were good to me.”

“I like everyone, mostly,” Rebecca said. “I can’t help it. But I really…I love you, kid. I want you to be happy. Are you happy? I want you to be.”

Eerie nodded.

Rebecca smiled as she let her go.

“How is he, anyway? I miss him, too.”

“You know,” Eerie said. “The same as always.”

***

For a fictional existence, Mauricio Lopez lived a pleasant life.

He owned a small villa on the outskirts of Puerto Vallarta in an expat retirement community, complete with a pool and a decent golf course. It was walking distance to the beach, and both local restaurants were quite good.

He putted on the green or played a few holes with the house pro most mornings, and he had made substantial progress with his handicap. After lunch he walked on the beach, only turning around when he got to the areas favored by the crowds of seasonal tourists.

In the late afternoon he napped or swam, and he dined out for dinner.

It was from this last activity that he was currently returning, having elected to eat at a restaurant a bit further than he normally would have ventured, tempted by the reputation of their seafood. The reputation had proved to be merited, but the walk home in the dimness of the late evening was longer than he would have liked, and he had started to regret not summoning a taxi.

He was walking along the cinderblock fence that surrounded a new housing tract, most of the homes on the other side still under construction, when he noticed the bored young man lounging at the corner on the opposite side of the street.

A Caucasian was hardly an out-of-the-ordinary sight in the neighborhood, even if the dark suit he wore was a departure from the usual tourist and retiree ensemble, but Mauricio flinched when he saw him.

Then Mauricio disappeared.

The young man yawned, stretched, and then sauntered over with a grin on his face.

“It’s no use, Mateo,” Renton said. “I can feel your Signature. You can’t hide in that ridiculous fake identity any longer.”

The street burst into flames around Renton, the buildings transformed into towering infernos that spewed orange fire out of every window. The heat was withering in its intensity, and the sidewalk was bombarded with broken glass and debris.

Renton smirked.

“Give it up. You aren’t fooling anyone.”

“I don’t want to fool anyone, I want to be left alone,” Mateo Navarre said, his voice coming from nowhere in particular. “I like being Mauricio.”

“You’ve done what you’ve done. You knew there would be a price to pay.”

The flames disappeared.

Mateo reappeared in multiples of ten, or even one hundred – dozens of identical men, wearing the same loose white shirt and faded jeans that Mateo wore, each with the same wavy brown hair, kept under control with a liberal application of Pomade – scattered about the street, running this way and that, hiding behind cars or slipping into buildings.

Renton glanced at his watch.

“There’s nowhere to run, Mateo. Fight it all you want – you’re no more than a fish on the line.”

Mateo used his duplicates to conceal his retreat, meaning to head back in the direction of the restaurant, duck into a convenient café, and then hide in the bathroom until a ride to the airport could be arranged.

Renton strode briskly down the block after him, ignoring Mateo’s clones.

Mateo broke into a run.

He abandoned it four blocks later, winded and unable to put any distance between himself and Renton. He bent over to catch his breath, and while his chest was still heaving, he felt an Isolation Field slam down around him, and the strange sensation of pressure that accompanied it.

Mateo straightened up and looked around.

Renton was standing not far from him, having not even broken a sweat.

“It was never personal,” Mateo said. “I was just doing a job.”

“You took the wrong job.”

“I can be helpful,” Mateo said. “I know all sorts of things your Mistress will want to hear.”

“Is that so?”

“Of course! I was right there for all of it. I may have only been from an affiliated family, but they let me sit in on their meetings, the Thule inner circle. I know all the things Lady Martynova is dying to find out.”

“That’s very good to hear.”

“I’ll tell you everything, I swear it,” Mateo said, stepping close to Renton. “You just have to promise me one thing.”

Renton raised his eyebrow.

“You have to promise me that, if I tell you everything, you won’t torture or kill me. Exile me, or make me work for you, whatever you want, but I want to live. And you’ve got to keep me away from your precious Mistress, okay? I’ll talk to you directly, or to one of your people, but I don’t want to talk to her.”

“Why is that?”

“I saw what she did, when you people attacked the Thule manor. I saw her kill Gaul Thule! That wasn’t any kind of protocol. There’s something wrong with her. I don’t need any Outer Dark shit in my life, okay? Just promise me that, and I’ll give it all up.”

“I don’t know, Mateo,” Renton said. “That’s two things, not one. Still, there’s no harm in asking, is there? Let’s ask her, then.”

Renton grinned at him, and Mateo’s stomach turned over.

“What do you think, Ana? Will you leave poor Mateo alone?”

He could not say where she came from, though she appeared in full view and in the glare of an adjacent porch lamp, without the benefit of shadows or tricks of light. He did not even see her move.

Anastasia Martynova stood beside Renton in a metallic blue dress and black shawl, her eyes as black and empty as those of a tiger shark. The hem of her dress danced about, teased by a wind that Mateo did not feel.

“I hate to say it, Mr. Navarre,” Anastasia said. “But I have no intention of indulging you.”

“Lady Martynova,” Mateo said, dropping to his knees, and then resting his forehead on the ground. “I beg your forgiveness. I was a fool for joining the Thule Cartel, and a fool for participating in the attack on your family. Spare me, and I pledge myself to your service for the rest of my life.”

Renton offered Anastasia his arm, and then led her over to inspect Mateo.

“This is a surprise,” Anastasia said. “I expected you to put up a fight.”

“Why fight? I cannot hope to win,” Mateo said, shrugging. “I can only surrender and throw myself upon your mercy.”

“If you say so, Mr. Navarre. For my part, I cannot forgive you. I have taken a vow, where my father’s murder is concerned.”

“I see,” Mateo said, his voice trembling as he fought tears. “Will you at least promise me a quick end?”

“How many members of the Thule Family remain alive, Mr. Navarre? If you survived, then it stands to reason that some of them did as well.”

“They left me behind at the manor in Iceland, to keep up the illusion,” Mateo said hurriedly, wiping tears and dirt from his face. “We always planned to evacuate the youngest members of the cartel, whatever the cost.”

“It almost worked,” Anastasia said approvingly. “If not for the inherent difficulties of mass decapitation, we might never have noticed the substitutions.”

“You said the children,” Renton said. “Who is still alive?’

“Our priorities were Egill, Lóa, and Benjamin Thule, along with assorted cousins. Lóa changed her mind, when she saw you…when she saw you in combat with Lord Thule, Lady Martynova.”

“It is a relief to hear that her death, at least, was genuine.”

“Egill evacuated Benjamin and a few others, all civilians.” Mateo glanced at the face of the Mistress of the Black Sun, hoping to see a bit of mercy there, but was immediately disappointed. “He went after Chandi Tuesday…”

“Miss Tuesday has informed me that my servant, Katya Zharova, ambushed him.”

“According to the reports I received, the ambush was a success. She killed Egill, to the best of my knowledge,” Mateo said. “I ran until I was certain I was no longer pursued, and then I settled down here. I haven’t heard a word from any of them since.”

“Do you have any idea where I might find Benjamin Thule and the other survivors?”

“I swear to you that I don’t know,” Mateo said, trembling uncontrollably. “I don’t even know how to get into contact with them. I promise you, that’s the truth. You have a telepath with you, Lady Martynova. I’ve dropped my shields. Go ahead and do what you must. I’m not so stupid as to hide anything from you.”

Renton looked at Anastasia for permission.

She stared at Mateo for a long time before nodding absently, like she had almost forgotten what they were talking about.

Renton was savage by choice. He took his time breaking apart Mateo’s dormant psychic defenses, disassembling the shields he had been carefully maintaining for years. The probe was conducted with blatant disregard for Mateo’s memory or comfort, as Renton ransacked his mind for anything of use, and cast aside anything that he judged superfluous.

Mateo endured as best he could, biting his lip until it split.

“He’s telling the truth,” Renton said, continuing to rampage through Mateo’s vulnerable brain. “He doesn’t know anything, except what we already guessed.”

“What about Gabriela Thule?” Anastasia studied him. “We never found her body.”

“I don’t know,” Mateo whimpered. “She made a nuisance of herself until Lord Thule agreed to send her out with a patrol, when we first took Central, and then her unit got jumped by one of your people.”

“I am aware of that. My people in turn lost her to Alistair.”

“Alistair brought her back to Lord Thule, not long before you attacked the manor. I saw her in a hallway once, but I don’t think I saw her the day of the fight. Gabriela probably ran off on her own. She was always doing that.”

“Interesting. Confirm it, would you, Renton?”

Mateo Navarre’s brain was strip-mined, layers of memory torn back and ripped apart. He curled into a ball and endured it, blood leaking from his nose and his bitten lip.

“Yeah. It’s true.”

“Very well. I appreciate your forthrightness, Mr. Navarre.”

Mateo remained as he was, in a ball on the street, holding his breath.

“You may consider it fortunate that I have no further need of heads for my father’s grave, Mr. Navarre, since he is already interred. I cannot promise you any further kindness, however, nor will I offer you a quick death.”

Mateo failed to choke back his sob.

“I shall be rather cross with my people if you are to die at all,” Anastasia said, adjusting her shawl. “Prepare him for transport to Hong Kong, won’t you, Renton? I’ll want Lady Gao to see to him personally.”

“Right away,” Renton said, grinning as he grabbed Mateo by the collar.

Mateo wanted to fight, but Renton was already too much in control, and his body simply refused his commands.

He felt Renton in his head like there was a beetle boring through the tissue.

When Mateo realized what Renton was trying to do, he cried out and tried to fight him, but it was altogether too late, and Renton was too skilled a telepath.

Mateo Navarre seized on the street, his teeth chattering and gnashing as Renton destroyed the portion of his mind that housed the routine that activated his protocol, denying Mateo the possibility of future use.

Losing his telepathy was like being blinded.

Mateo wanted to scream, but he was allowed only a whimper.

“Are you finished? Is his transportation arranged?” Lady Martynova frowned impatiently. “Let’s be off to the apport station, then. We are meant to be back in Central in time for the party.”

“You go ahead, Ana,” Renton said, patting her on the head, and offering a grin when she slapped his hand away. “There’s one thing I need to check on.”

She disappeared the same way she had arrived.

Renton put his hands in his pockets and walked to the end of the block.

“You can come out now.”

“I could have come out anytime,” Leigh said, emerging from the nearby alley. “That’s not what I was told to do. That’s all.”

The vampire wore running shorts and a T-shirt emblazoned with a beer logo, looking every bit the college student on break, down to her white plastic-rimmed sunglasses.

“Yeah?” Renton leered at her with practiced eyes. “What were you told to do, then?”

“I’m just here to watch,” Leigh said. “To make sure that the big Operation you were planning was nothing to do with us. Just in case you needed a reminder that the Far Shores is off limits.”

“You can tell Emily this has nothing to do with you people,” Renton said. “I suggest you leave, and never come anywhere near Ana again.”

“I’ll do what I’m told,” Leigh said. “Just like you.”

“Call me if you ever wanna fuck,” Renton said, turning back to manage Mateo’s apport. “Otherwise, don’t let me see you again.”

The vampire flipped him off as she retreated into the alley.

When he glanced that way a minute later, as the technicians were getting Mateo trussed up for the trip, the alley was empty, save for a couple trashcans and a rusting bike frame.

“Emily Muir. That’s a problem I’m going to enjoy solving,” Renton said, rubbing his chin as he stared at the empty alley. “Sooner rather than later, I think. Yeah. Real soon.”

***

Henry North kept the shock from his face, thanks to a vague warning from his wife about unexpected guests that afternoon, but he was stunned regardless. He unclipped the metal rod from his belt and placed it on the desk, giving his visitors a meaningful look as he did so.

Alistair crossed his legs, smug and untroubled. Gabriela Thule sat in the chair beside him, looking no less pleased with herself. They were dressed casually, almost like they were on vacation, and they looked tanned and healthy.

“I sincerely hoped that both of you were dead,” Henry admitted. “How in the world did you survive the massacre in Iceland?”

“It’s a family thing,” Gabriela said. “We have a talent for it. You know, Uncle Gaul always told me to come to you if anything happened to him.”

Henry could only nod.

He had told his children the same thing regarding Gaul, after all.

“Lady Martynova is convinced that the Thule Cartel persists. I am not thrilled to learn that she is correct. If she should make the same discovery, who knows what might happen. I can perhaps do something for you, Gabriela,” Henry said, considering it. “Your choice in company leaves much to be desired, however, and Alistair’s presence gives me pause.”

“I know why you feel that way, and I don’t blame you,” Gabriela said, with an ingratiating smile. “Alistair is an awful man.”

“I was, anyway,” Alistair said. “I’ve changed my ways. Nothing to worry about with me these days.”

“We aren’t here to ask for favors,” Gabriela said, silencing Alistair with a glare. “We want to help you, Mr. North.”

“Help? What do you mean?”

“You’re short on allies and long on enemies,” Alistair said. “You know that the Black Sun is assembling an invasion force in China, don’t you? It won’t be long before you have open war in Central again.”

“I am aware,” Henry said. “Diplomacy, however, has not yet failed.”

“Sure, but when it does, we can help,” Alistair. “And you can trust us, because we also need your help.”

“I see,” Henry said coldly. “Then you do want something from me.”

“We want to make a deal, Mr. North,” Gabriela corrected. “We want to earn our keep.”

“I fail to see what the two of you can do for me.”

“You won’t have much luck against the Black Sun if you can’t get the Hegemony to line up behind you,” Alistair said. “Serafina Ricci is standing in the way of that unity, isn’t she? That’s a problem I could resolve for you.”

“I see,” Henry said. “It’s just the two of you, then?”

“That’s a glass-half-empty perspective,” Alistair said. “Let’s think of it this way – we are volunteering the entire Thule Cartel.”

“The Thule Cartel is no more, I’m afraid.”

“Not necessarily,” Gabriela said. “You’re in charge, aren’t you? Chief Administrator of Central? Then the Thule Cartel is only gone if you say that it is.”

Henry considered it.

He had to, given who was making the offer.

“What would you want in return, should I be interested in accepting your offer?”

“Nothing too onerous, Mr. North,” Gabriela said. “All I want is my family name back, and all of our things.”

“That is a problematic request,” Henry said, sighing. “Aside from the difficulty inherent in resurrecting the Thule Cartel, your family estates were claimed by Anastasia Martynova as compensation…”

“I heard she rejected that deal,” Alistair said. “No peace, no compensation. Right?”

“…or given as marriage gifts.”

“For your son and your daughter,” Gabriela said. “They aren’t married yet, are they? Either of them?”

Henry shook his head.

“Then you can just give them something else. How about the Ricci estate?” Gabriela suggested. “I’ve seen pictures. It’s very nice.”

“Despite your claims, you actually want a great deal,” Henry said. “This would be a costly arrangement for me, without much in the way of benefits.”

“We aren’t just offering to handle Serafina,” Alistair said. “You have a lot of enemies lately, don’t you? I heard something about an Inquiry, which could easily become an Audit, for example. Not to mention the Black Sun. Do you even know what Emily Muir is up to, in the Far Shores? I bet you don’t, but do you really want her to hold a big chunk of Central, independent and all? I don’t think so.”

Alistair smirked, and Gabriela quickly punched him in the arm. He grimaced and straightened up, assuming a marginally more polite disposition.

“I’m just saying, Henry. Wouldn’t it be nice to have an asset in your favor? Something that nobody knows you have, because no one knows that we even exist?”

Henry gave it further consideration.

“It is an intriguing offer,” he said finally, glancing at the clock. “I will consider your terms.”

“Those aren’t exactly all of our terms,” Gabriela said. “I also want the Weathers estate, and the deed to the Loring manor in Central. Pretty please, Mr. North. I promise we are worth it.”

“What in heaven’s name are you talking about?”

“We’ll take the whole Loring estate, actually,” Alistair said, putting his arm around Gabriela. “Consider it a wedding present, okay?”

Henry stared in mute shock as Gabriela wriggled from Alistair’s embrace, punching him a second time. Gabriela smiled apologetically as she straightened her dress.

“What can I say?” Gabriela shrugged. “Alistair is terrible, but never to me. It’s endearing.”

“I promised her a big wedding,” Alistair said. “What do you say, Henry? We’ll help you take care of all your problems. We make that Inquiry go away, take care of little Miss Ricci, and smooth the way for your kids. All you need to do is transfer a couple of properties that aren’t even yours, so no big loss there, and recognize Gabby as the heir to the Thule Cartel. Throw in a small loan…”

“A loan?” Henry felt himself to be beyond astonishment. “What for?”

“It won’t actually be that small. I told you that I promised Gabby a big wedding,” Alistair said. “Do you have any idea how expensive a competent florist is?”

***

The feeling of weightlessness was the beginning of her returning awareness. The wetness of her skin followed shortly after, then the sensation of warmth.

Enjoying the buoyancy, she felt no desire to open her eyes, or to contemplate anything.

Her memory did not return to her. There was no sudden recollection, no protracted remembering. Her restoration was almost an afterthought.

She was so accustomed to the blank spaces, the abscesses in her cognition, that it did not feel like a recovery.

It was a quiet rebirth.

The days stretched out behind her in a continuous tapestry, spooling to such a distant past that years were a pitiful measure, whether taken in decades or centuries. Before her…

She did not worry about what was before her.

She anticipated it.

Floating on her back in the blood-warm water, she luxuriated in the vast potential of the future, her toes curling with eagerness. She could feel every cell of her body singing in unison, and she could pick out each individual cellular voice in the chorus, her nervous system resonating with the bliss of simply being herself. Her scalp tingled and her fingers trembled, and she could trace each line of the Tree of Life etched into her back, her mouth silently shaping the Hebrew characters inscribed across her shoulders.

Alice Gallow opened her eyes and took in the barren sky of the Outer Dark.

“Welcome back.”

The man was sitting on a low stone dam not far from where she floated, tossing pebbles into the opposite side of the round pool, where geothermally heated water boiled out from a crack in the volcanic rock.

“It’s been a long time, Marcus.”

“Has it really?” Marcus smiled and tossed another pebble, the ripples in the water dying off before they could meet her skin. “I’m not sure anymore. What’s a little time apart between you and I?”

“Yes,” Alice said. “I remember.”

He did not look away as she stood, her skin flushed and wrinkled from long immersion.

She was not bothered.

“You are a marvel,” Marcus said admiringly. “A true wonder.”

“Flattery will not save you,” Alice said, smiling her Cheshire Cat smile. “Clothes, on the other hand, might do something.”

Marcus gestured toward the side of the pool, at a thin stack of folded clothing, a towel draped across a nearby rock.

She dried herself and then started to dress.

“What a pity,” Marcus commented, watching her step into a new pair of black jeans, the fresh denim rough against her skin. “I remember when you didn’t bother with such trivial concerns.”

“So do I,” Alice said, pulling a tank-top over her head, the front of the shirt covered in elaborate black metal scrawl.

“Glad to hear it,” Marcus said, returning to his pebble tossing. “John would be pleased. He always liked you better as yourself.”

Alice paused, one foot shoved in the waiting black boots, the other in the air.

“Don’t tell me they actually managed to kill him.”

Marcus nodded without looking at her.

“I wasn’t sure that it was even possible, but they did it.”

“I see.” She slipped on the other boot. “What about the Church?”

“I thought it might be possible to delay it, but they did more than that. The Church has retreated. It was perhaps even damaged. I thought we could buy a few years, but it might be centuries before another manifestation. Apparently, I underestimated both Alexander Warner and Mitsuru Aoki.”

Alice patted him on the back.

“I don’t think you did,” Alice said. “I think we both overlooked the passion of a young woman caught up in her first love.”

“You mean Ériu. The Changeling.”

“It’s always the Changelings, isn’t it? They are the living antithesis of destiny.”

“We dealt with them in the past…”

“Eerie was different. The others were defined by their Fey halves. Eerie was practically human, with all the emotion and unpredictability that entails. That was probably Becca’s fault. She spoiled Eerie.” Alice smiled fondly. “Let’s take a walk.”

Marcus dumped his last few pebbles in the water, dusted his hands off on his garden-stained pants, and then stood.

Alice glanced again at the desolate sky, and then chose a direction at random, walking away from the hot spring and into the ruined country below it.

There was little for them to look at on their long walk through the Outer Dark, since there was nothing to see. The Horrors were dead or had migrated elsewhere, and the fire in the mountains that existed only as an unreachable horizon had been extinguished.

They started at the hot spring, but soon were deep in the wasteland, without goal or destination. They were not lost, because location is not a useful concept when navigating the Outer Dark.

Alice felt comfortable walking in the dark. She felt as if she had been doing that her whole life. Marcus did not speak, but he stole occasional glances at her, and every now and again, he smiled nervously.

It was impossible to say how long they walked. Alice felt no need to eat or drink, and she did not grow tired. This felt a little unfamiliar, but that was just because she had gotten into the habit of doing that sort of thing.

If Marcus felt differently, then he kept that to himself, which was fine, because Alice did not care either way.

There was no need for pretense in the Outer Dark.

“Even at the end, John was looking out for you. He could have spat you out anywhere, or not at all. Instead he dumped you in the White Room, right where he told me to look for you. He told me that it would strip away all the implants and false memories, but that you were too strong for the White Room to digest you completely. If I pulled you out of there fast enough, John said that all that would be left would be your real self.” Marcus hesitated. “He told me that it would hurt. Did it?”

“Yeah,” Alice said, remembering many things that had. “It hurt.”

“Did it work?”

Alice grinned at him.

“What do you think?”

Marcus reached into the breast pocket of the dingy hiking vest he wore, producing an ornate glass bottle, the sort of vessel a fancy perfume might occupy, and handed it to her. Alice turned the cut glass bottle over in her palm, inspecting it.

“John left this for you. He wanted you to have it.”

“What is it?”

“From the Source Well,” Marcus said. “He used quite a bit of it, but there’s still some left.”

“What am I supposed to do with nanites?”

“Whatever you want,” Marcus said, shrugging. “You could make yourself some new sisters, to replace all the Witches who died, for example. Just a thought.”

They crested a knife-edge ridge made of smooth and treacherous volcanic glass to discover a silver tower, wider at the top than the base, with its door broken open, surrounded by mutilated corpses. Alice paid it all little mind, except to admire the killer’s handiwork.

The Inverted Spire. That was what John had called it.

He had always loved giving everything names. Nothing in the Outer Dark had a name, until he arrived, and set about giving them out like he was Adam in the garden, naming a parade of newly minted living things.

John hadn’t known a thing about it. He just thought calling it the Inverted Spire had a nice ring to it. Alice knew the tower for what it was, its original purpose and function, its original destination and its ancient arrival.

That memory was even older than she was, Alice suspected, perhaps an inheritance.

Then again, who had been there before her, and from whom could she inherit?

Becca would have called it a Chicken-and-Egg problem, a paradox with no possible resolution.

Alice thought about it anyway, as they walked, because she enjoyed considering the possibilities.

That was all that Alice could see since she had opened her eyes in the hot spring. Not the empty skin or the broken ground of the Outer Dark.

Alice saw only possibilities, unfurling before her like a red carpet.

“Are you going to kill me?”

She glanced at Marcus, and then smiled out of habit.

“I haven’t decided,” Alice said. “Haven’t even thought about it.”

“I’m sure you have a lot on your mind,” Marcus said. “I’d really like to know sooner rather than later, if it’s all the same to you.”

“Would you now?” Alice grinned. “You need time to get right with your God?”

“A true Christian is always ready to die, because his destiny is paradise,” Marcus said, shrugging. “I would like to continue living, I’ll admit it, but I’m not afraid.”

“What’s the hurry, then?”

“I hate suspense,” Marcus admitted. “I’d just rather get it over with.”

“Fine, then.” Alice surveyed the empty horizon, the fractured plain bordered all about by eroded mountain ranges, just as distant from them as when they had begun their journey. “Let’s talk about it. You really pulled a number on me this time, Marcus.”

“Yeah.”

“The memory trick was bad enough, but to recast me as the protector of Central.” Alice tossed her hair. “That’s a bit much, don’t you think?”

“I don’t know. You seemed happy as an Auditor.”

“Did I?”

“Yeah. It seemed like you made some friends.”

“Maybe.” Alice grinned at the desolation. “I suppose it wasn’t all bad.”

“You were very close with Rebecca Levy.”

“Everyone loves Becca,” Alice protested. “It’s impossible not to love her. She won’t let you.”

“What about Michael Lacroix, then?”

“That wasn’t friendship.”

“Something more, then?”

“Something else. It was intense, and it was for sure none of your fucking business.”

“You even sound like them,” Marcus said. “The experience changed you.”

“I didn’t ask for it, did I?”

“You did not.”

“As for friends – you and I have never been friends.” Alice planted herself in front of Marcus, hands on her hips. “Isn’t that right?”

“We have never seen eye to eye,” Marcus agreed. “We have known each other for a very long time, though.”

“I knew Jacob Havel for a long time. Did you hear what happened to him?”

“I heard that he lost his head,” Marcus said. “That’s too bad.”

“Is it?”

“For him, at least,” Marcus said. “You didn’t know what you were doing. You didn’t even remember who he was.”

“And whose fault is that?”

“Mine.” Marcus nodded slowly. “I know that.”

“John is gone. I killed Jacob, and I killed Christopher Feld, too.” Alice pinched her lip. “Yaga is dead, and Samnang was lost to the White Room. The old gang is gone.”

“That just leaves the two of us.”

“The last of the freaks of nature.”

“Yeah.” Marcus grinned. “Too weird to die.”

There was no wind to alleviate the silence that followed, the darkness absolute and unbroken, save only the fingers of lightning that erupted from the shattered badlands.

“What were you doing out here, Marcus?”

“I followed John when he left Central to start the Anathema. I didn’t feel like I deserved to be in Central anymore.”

“I didn’t ask why you came. I asked what…”

“Oh, sorry. I’ve been doing a little gardening. Do you want to see?”

Alice thought it over, then she nodded.

“This way,” Marcus said, heading out. “It’s not far.”

There was no direction save for away in the Outer Dark, and no distance aside from distant, but Alice appreciated the thought.

There was glass, and there was sand, and there was bare rock.

Sometimes she felt as if she should have slept or perhaps had a drink, but there was no real need, and no opportunity in any case.

The sky was empty, and it was always cold.

But for Marcus’s talents, they never would have arrived.

“There,” Marcus said, catching her arm at the top of a hill and pointing. “That’s it.”

Just below them in a sunken valley lay the remnants of a rose garden, a false sun bleeding daylight across a manufactured sky. The roses had been grown in neat rows, and the quantity of withered leaves strewn about the parched soil suggested that the bushes had been lush, but none survived. The plants were stripped and overturned, the exposed roots blackened by the malign influence of the Church.

At the center of the dead garden, a wrecked gazebo lay beside broken furniture.

Alice strolled toward it, desiccated petals turning to dust beneath her soles as she went.

“You tried to stop the Church,” Alice said, glancing back at Marcus, who followed at a small distance. “I’m impressed.”

“It would have been more impressive if it had been more successful,” Marcus said modestly. “It was more of a symbolic gesture than anything.”

“Beauty over atrocity,” Alice said, tapping the pile of rubble that had been the gazebo with the toe of her boot. “Life amid total death. Was that the idea?”

“Something of that sort.” Marcus nodded. “It was not a bad place.”

“I bet John loved it.”

“This sort of thing always appealed to him, and anyway, no one was more determined to prevent the Church from manifesting.”

“A little strange, don’t you think? He was the Church, after all. A small part of it, maybe, but still…”

“He became himself,” Marcus said, shrugging. “It’s hard to go back.”

“If you say so.”

“Are you that different? You shared a consciousness with your Witch sisters, once. You were a part of a greater whole. Now, you’re Alice Gallow. No more or less.”

“That’s your fault, too.” Alice sighed. “They’re all dead, aren’t they?”

“The other Witches? Most of them,” Marcus acknowledged, looking a bit guilty. “There are a few left, scattered about. John subverted most of them for his failed assault on Central. You hunted down a fair number of them yourself.”

“I didn’t know what I was doing.”

“Didn’t you? That was when you looked your happiest.”

“Maybe.” Alice grinned. “I never did like my family.”

“I’m amazed that Central never put it together,” Marcus said. “Your manipulation of shadows was unlike any protocol, recorded or otherwise. Your cruelty was legendary. Your zeal for violence and pain was common knowledge. And yet not once did anyone suspect that there might be a reason for all of that.”

“Even I had no idea I was feeding on all that pain and misery,” Alice said. “Gaul probably knew, looking back on it. I assume Becca suspected something was wrong.”

“Why did they allow you to stay in Central?”

“Don’t ask me to explain human behavior.” Alice smirked. “It was probably my charm.”

“If so, then I wouldn’t blame them.”

“Don’t start with me.”

Marcus knelt beside one of the dead roses, poking at the root bundle, which turned into a little cloud of ash when he touched it.

“I should kill you,” Alice said dreamily, staring at the horizon. “For what you did to me.”

“Did it really turn out so badly?”

“That makes no difference. You tampered with my mind and took away my free will.”

“I do regret that. I could see no other way.”

“No other way to do what, exactly? Why did you do this to me? Help me understand.”

“You were going to kill John. You remember that, right? You decided to kill him and wake the Church early, banking on the magnitude of all that death and misery to be enough for you to contend with the Church on your own.”

“It wasn’t a bad plan. Was it better to allow John to do whatever he wanted?”

“I’m still not sure.” Marcus sighed and pushed aside what was left of the dead rose. “After a while, he started to agree with your plan, and to think of it as a kind of back up, in case nothing else worked. He kept trying to wake you up, to return your memory so you could kill him before the Church manifested on its own terms. You were both pains in my ass.”

“Central was mine long before I helped you find your way in,” Alice said. “I should have killed you all on that first trip.”

“You were bored,” Marcus said, smiling. “We entertained you for a while, didn’t we?”

“You’ve never been dull,” Alice agreed. “Neither was John.”

“Yeah.”

Alice gave him a strange look, but Marcus made no effort to meet her eyes, instead looking sadly over the remnants of his garden.

“You loved John, didn’t you?”

Marcus nodded.

“I loved both of you,” Marcus said quietly. “How could I not?”

“You’re a disgusting old pervert. You fell in love with a Witch and an avatar of the Outer Dark,” Alice teased. “Don’t you have any shame?”

“I loved something that desperately wanted to become a man,” Marcus corrected, “and I loved a queen. She who wanders the dark, vexing the sons of Man. My queen.”

Alice roared with laughter, slapping him on the back.

“There you go again,” she said. “You’re such a romantic!”

“I never denied it.”

“And a huge deviant. Did you ever consider falling for a human being?”

“Never,” Marcus said. “Not once.”

“Ha! You know, I think you and clueless little Alex would have been friends. You have so much in common!”

“We met,” Marcus said. “I like to think we got along.”

“I bet you did,” Alice said. “Let me guess. Emily Muir had something to do with it?”

“She did,” Marcus said. “We became friendly during her time in the Outer Dark.”

“You old dog! You’re old enough to be her great-great-great…”

“I never put a hand on her.”

“You mean she never gave you a chance.”

“Well, yes,” Marcus agreed. “The flesh is both willing and weak, in my case.”

They were quiet for a while longer.

“Tell me, Marcus,” Alice said. “What should I do with you?”

Marcus did not reply, lost in his contemplation of the ruins, or perhaps the barren horizon.

“I’m going back to Central,” Alice said. “You know that.”

“I heard the Source Well was destroyed, and I already gave you what you need to rebuild your sisterhood,” Marcus said. “No reason to go back now, is there?”

“Plenty of reasons. There may not be a Source Well, but there is a Changeling, and a catalyst.”

“I heard that he was asleep.”

“I’ll wake him the fuck up,” Alice snarled. “Don’t patronize me.”

“I don’t think that it will be as easy as you assume,” Marcus replied. “Central has its protectors.”

“Don’t kid around with me,” Alice said. “I was Central’s protector, thanks to you.”

“You were never the only one.”

“So? You think the Auditors will be able to stop me?”

“They will try.”

“Let them!” Alice laughed. “They don’t stand a chance.”

“They won’t be alone,” Marcus said. “You will be.”

“Who can they call for help?” Alice’s voice dripped with contempt. “The Black Sun? Maybe your friend Emily? Or are you referring to the Changeling and her dopey boyfriend?”

“Yes.”

“If that’s all I have to worry about, then I don’t have to worry at all.”

“Maybe.” Marcus smiled at her. “Maybe not.”

They watched a bolt of lightning climb out of a steep canyon, languidly clawing into the sky.

Alice came up behind him and draped her arms over his shoulders.

“If I told you to stay in the Outer Dark, and to stay out of my business, would you do it?”

“No,” Marcus said. “I have friends in Central.”

“Why shouldn’t I kill you then, you old bastard?”

“Because no one else knows you but me,” Marcus said. “Everyone else is gone.”

Alice wrapped her arms loosely around his neck.

“Maybe I like it that way,” Alice suggested, hugging him. “You ever think of that?”

“Life will be dull without me around to meddle,” Marcus said. “You’ll be lonely and bored.”

Alice tightened her grip, pulling her forearm across his throat and cutting off the flow of blood.

It did not take very long.

She opened her arms, and Marcus tumbled to the dust, lifeless among the remains of the roses.

“Son of a bitch,” Alice muttered, turning her back on the garden. “You always had to be right about everything.”

***

They met in a clearing just off the path, beside what was left of the Main Library. The Administration had provided lighting for the event, attaching LED strips to the remaining walls and wrapping nearby trees in lights.

The illumination seemed to hint at the holidays, though spring was approaching, and the evening was warm and pleasant.

“It’s been a while,” Eerie said, shifting nervously. “Thank you for coming.”

“This is the only club I’ve ever been invited to join,” Emily said. “How could I possibly miss it?”

“I’m glad we are meeting again,” Vivik said. “I wish Katya was here, but…”

They all went quiet.

“I’m sorry,” Vivik said. “I shouldn’t have mentioned her.”

“It’s okay,” Eerie said. “We all miss her.”

“Yes,” Emily said. “We do.”

“It won’t be the same club without her,” Eerie said, “but I also feel like she would want us to continue…you know. Doing stuff. Club stuff!”

“That’s a good idea,” Vivik agreed. “What should we do?”

“I thought we could go to the party together,” Eerie suggested bashfully. “Once we finish the meeting.”

“Yes, of course,” Emily said. “I would love to!”

“Me too,” Vivik agreed. “Is that it?”

“I think we need to do more activities,” Eerie said. “Or else we aren’t really a club, are we? We’re just friends.”

“Yes,” Emily said, smiling. “That’s true.”

“Alex doesn’t need to be rescued from the Outer Dark anymore,” Eerie said. “We need a new activity.”

“He’s probably going to get in a lot more trouble, eventually,” Emily said. “We could focus on that.”

“I don’t think Alex would like that,” Eerie said. “He is sort of a member, kinda.”

“What should we do, then?”

Vivik cleared his throat, and the young women looked at him.

“I always thought it could be better in Central,” Vivik said. “I don’t think that things need to be so cruel. I’m tired of going to my friends’ funerals. I don’t trust Lord North or Anastasia, and I don’t think the cartel system works. Maybe we could do something for people who don’t want to be a part of that?”

They both turned to Emily.

“Don’t look at me that way! I deal with cartels out of necessity, not preference,” Emily said, laughing. “I’m as much a revolutionary as you are. I haven’t forgotten the plan we made, Vivik, and I still intend to make the Far Shores a sanctuary for refugees from the cartels.”

“I think that it’s a good idea, too,” Eerie said. “Shall we vote? All in favor?”

All three raised their hands.

“Then it’s settled. We’ll be the good guys,” Emily said. “Personally, I always thought that we were, but I don’t mind making it official.”

“That’s a big mandate,” Vivik said. “Where do we start?”

“At the Academy,” Eerie answered promptly. “We don’t want what happened to us to happen to anyone else, do we? It has to start with the kids.”

“Works for me,” Emily said. “Assuming they’ll let me in. I think they’ve decided I’m a bad influence.”

“They will let you in,” Eerie said. “I’ll make them.”

“I believe you,” Emily said. “Anything else?”

Eerie thought it over.

“I would like to go to an amusement park,” she said. “Also, the beach. The real beach, with waves and an ocean with water and stuff. Maybe Venice? Venice looks cool. Alex thinks he visited there, once. He never did, actually, but he likes to think that.”

“I would go to the beach,” Vivik said quickly. “No problem.”

“You just want to see us in our swimsuits,” Emily said, grinning at Vivik. “So, we are saving the world, starting with the Academy, going on rollercoasters, and taking a trip to the beach. How exciting!”

“There’s one more thing,” Eerie said. “There is something Alex wanted us to do.”

“Really?” Vivik looked curious. “What’s that?”

“He wants us to change the club name. He says it’s embarrassing for him.”

“I can understand that,” Vivik said. “It is a little…”

“I think it’s sweet,” Emily said, “but I can see why he would want that.”

“Right,” Eerie said. “Shall we vote? All in favor?”

No one raised their hands.

“As club president, I have veto,” Eerie said. “I’m also vetoing the name change. Just to be sure.”

“The Rescue Alex from the Outer Dark Club it remains, then,” Emily said, linking arms with them. “Shall we go to the party?”

***

“Our tenure in Central hasn’t been long enough to create a lot of traditions, but this one goes back to the days of the Founder – after we weather a crisis, we take time to bury our dead and to mourn them. Once that is done, we take some time for ourselves, to celebrate all the things that our friends gave their lives to protect. We have a party, in other words.”

Michael glanced at the assembled crowd. The setting of the ruined library and the dim lighting had him thinking about A Midsummer Night’s Dream, and fairies.

“We have funerals because we need to say goodbye. We have parties because we want the world to be a better place, if only for a little while.”

He could hear the tinkle of glasses and the collective noise of the crowd moving and breathing and drinking, and beyond that the woodland sounds at the edge of the Academy campus, but there was not a whisper or a laugh, and that made him more nervous than any true silence could have.

“We’ve done this too many times,” Michael said. “The responsibility for this speech has shifted, for bad reasons and for worse, and we’ve lost far too many friends. We have struggled, right here at this very spot, and we have suffered. It would be wrong, however, to think that we have nothing to show for all of it.”

“We survived, after all. Despite everything, we survived.”

“Central remains because Central is not a place, it is a community,” Michael said, meeting as many eyes as was possible. “Our community may be contentious, but it has persevered through difficult times, outside threats, and betrayals. Do you know why? I think it is because we have decided, collectively and individually, that there is something of value to all of this, even if the reality sometimes falls short of our expectations. We have chosen Central, all of us, those who have fallen and those who remain.”

“We have a peace that has been hard earned.”

Michael sought out two specific people in the crowd – first, Henry North, then Anastasia Martynova.

The Chief Administrator affected an air of amused indulgence, having chosen not to give the speech himself, while the Mistress of the Black Sun watched with an expression of boredom that bordered on contempt.

“This is an opportunity we must seize as a community, to honor the sacrifices that have been made,” Michael continued, glaring at each of them in turn. “We must decide that this peace is worth defending, as the Auditors and the Operators and the students and the civilians who were lost in this conflict decided. We must decide that those who would be enemies of this peace are the enemies of us all.”

He paused here for dramatic effect, but neither member of his intended audience would give him the satisfaction of reaction.

“A celebration is a temporary respite,” Michael said. “As you enjoy yourself this evening, I invite you to consider – why must it be temporary? Why can we not always be as we are tonight?”

The crowd hesitated, eager to applaud and move on, unsure if he was finished.

“Thank you for joining us,” Michael said, to instant applause. “Have a wonderful evening.”

He attempted to hurry to the bar, but Rebecca met him halfway with a beer in either hand.

“God bless you,” he said, taking the glass from her left hand. “You read my mind.”

“That was my other beer, actually,” Rebecca said. “But sure, fine, have at it.”

“Did that speech go as badly as it felt like it did?”

“They always feel worse than they are,” Rebecca said. “You were brief, which is all anyone wants out of a speech before a party.”

A DJ started up nearby, the electronic beat forcing the crowd to raise their voices. As the crowd made its way through the lines at the bar, the first dancers filtered toward the pavilion that housed the temporary dancefloor.

“You were kinda preachy, though,” Rebecca added. “Some people will not have enjoyed that.”

“Only some people?” Michael grinned. “I can handle that. Where’s Mitsuru?”

“She disappeared two minutes after we showed up. Guess she ditched me.”

“She never did like crowds.”

“My beer is empty,” Rebecca said, holding a half-full glass.

“No, it’s not.”

“It will be,” Rebecca said, pushing toward the bar. “Be right back.”

Michael glanced at the triple line, each queue a score deep, and concluded that she would not be back anytime soon.

No one seemed eager to talk to the new Director of the Academy on the night of a party, so he found a spot in a dark corner of the pavilion and sipped his beer as he surveyed the crowd.

Nearly everyone who had survived and remained in Central was in attendance.

The Hegemony had turned out in force, most congregating around Lord North and his family, but more than a few bunching together in an independent grouping centered around Serafina Ricci and Darby Weathers, both of whom had recently become the sole members of their respective families.

Michael thought that he could feel the tension between the two groups, even from across the party, but that could have just been him.

He worried a great deal about the issue, and how he might protect his students from it, if that frosty relationship turned hot.

The Black Sun was not as well represented, given their limited numbers in Central, but once Anastasia Martynova had RSVP’d, most of the cartel hierarchy had turned out. Lady Gao and Shijun Jiang stood at the edge of the party, waited on by servants who toted champagne bottles and trays of hors d’oeuvres.

Renton Hall danced with one nervous girl after another, charming them all, while Daniel Gao was the object of even greater attention. Anastasia greeted guests with chilly civility nearby, her staff practically walling her off from the party.

No one was brave enough to ask her to dance.

In the spirit of reconciliation, Michael had given clearance for the rebellious crew at the Far Shores to attend, despite the unsettled issue of their occupancy. Emily Muir had arrived with Vivik and Eerie and had immediately gone to exchange an icy greeting with Anastasia. She then worked her way through North’s camp – demurely acknowledging her presumed future fiancé, Kevin Morales-North – and was now sharing a drink with Serafina Ricci and giggling about something.

Emily’s recent popularity was something else to worry about.

Given the importance of the occasion, Michael had allowed the Academy students to attend, even the younger ones. They were grouped and under the supervision of the Academy staff, much to the staff’s dismay. Most of the students were hovering nervously near the dancefloor, in pairs and small groups, but a few were attempting to bluff their way to the bar.

“Let it slide,” Rebecca advised, joining him with two fresh beers. “If they get away with it, they’ll learn a valuable lesson about…something. Hangovers? I don’t know.”

Michael laughed.

“Have you talked to Anastasia lately? I haven’t seen her back in Central in a while,” he said. “Since the thing here, actually.”

“I paid her a visit, not too long after. It didn’t seem to go very well,” Rebecca said, grudgingly giving up one of the glasses. “She’s super creepy lately.”

“Hasn’t she always been a little…?”

“A little, yes, but not like this,” Rebecca said. “Something is very wrong with that girl.”

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t know yet,” Rebecca said, wiping foam from her mouth. “I’ll find out, though. Promise.”

“What about the North family?” Michael glanced over at him as he spoke. “Kevin and Sofia look pissed. I wonder what that’s about?”

Rebecca pointed at the dancefloor.

Nathan Drava was dancing with Madison Morales-Thule in the middle of the dancefloor, swaying beneath the twinkling bulbs that lined the inside of the pavilion. They were pressed together, slow dancing though the music was fast paced, ignoring the other dancers as they twirled and giggled.

Kevin’s face was flushed with rage, and his mother, who looked no happier, had to stop him from marching onto the dancefloor. Henry watched with a small grin as he puffed at a cigar.

“I think that’s the problem,” Rebecca said. “Madison has gone a little wild lately, don’t you think?”

“I guess Nathan has something to do with it.”

“Him and teenage hormones.”

“Kids are like that,” Michael said. “One day they are your innocent students, cute and idealistic and curious, and the next…”

“Puberty,” Rebecca said sourly. “They start fucking everybody.”

“I wouldn’t put it quite like that.”

“You aren’t an empath,” Rebecca said, finishing one of her glasses. “You have no idea how gross it gets.”

“I suppose not,” Michael said. “This doesn’t feel much like a party, does it?”

“That’s because Alice isn’t here,” Rebecca said. “We aren’t complete people, you and I, are we? Not without her. She was impossible, and she made everything work.”

“Yeah,” Michael said. “I can’t get over her. I keep trying to move on, and I just…”

“I know. I can’t either.”

“Alice could have, though,” Michael said. “She would have just forgotten it.”

“Yeah. Sometimes that made me jealous.”

“She made me jealous all the time. Brought out the best and the worst in me. We drove each other nuts,” Michael said. “I even miss that, now.”

Rebecca didn’t say anything.

They watched as the general migration to the dancefloor continued, the crowd swelling as alcohol and youthful exuberance slowly overcame nervous embarrassment.

He caught sight of Eerie’s blue hair before she was halfway across the pavilion.

“Have you been to check on Alex yet?” Michael lowered his voice so the approaching Changeling would not hear. “I worry about the kids, alone out there.”

“Not yet,” Rebecca said. “Soon.”

Michael watched the students dance and tried not to let his mind turn back to worry, at least for the evening.

His success was mixed.

“It’s you and me against the world again, isn’t it, Becca?”

“It always was,” Rebecca said solemnly, polishing off her beer.

“I’m sorry to interrupt,” Eerie said. “But I wanted to say goodbye.”

“You’re leaving already?” Rebecca hugged her. “Are you sure you don’t want to dance?”

“No, thank you,” Eerie said. “I don’t really want to dance alone.”

***

Mitsuru coughed politely as she stepped out of a dark alcove on the edge of campus, to avoid startling Eerie, and then fell in beside her.

They did not say anything on the way to the Administrative building. It wasn’t until they were in view of that massive rectangle of old stone and recent concrete that Mitsuru finally spoke.

“Is he okay?”

“Yes,” Eerie said. “He is.”

“Will he wake up soon?”

“No,” Eerie said, wiping her eyes. “Not soon.”

“I see.” Mitsuru paused in the dark, just beyond the reach of the building’s lights, and Eerie felt that she should, as well. “That’s too bad.”

“Yes.”

“He matters to me.”

“I know.”

“I want it to work out.”

“Me too.”

“When I think about it, I might still owe you,” Mitsuru said, looking up at the starless night sky. “You said you would change things. That was what you did, right?”

“That’s one way to look at it,” Eerie said. “I don’t like to see people trapped.”

“You said something about chances,” Mitsuru said. “About making space for new possibilities. Those possibilities weren’t just for you, were they? You opened doors for a few other people.”

Eerie looked away.

“That’s what I think,” Mitsuru said, stepping from the lighted path to the Administrative building and back into the dark. “Remember that, if you ever need my help.”

Eerie watched her leave, and then continued to stare out into the night, until she could no longer hear Mitsuru’s sandals on the pavement, until the only noise was the crickets and the wind in the leaves.

The apport station was crowded with people leaving the party, all headed to different destinations, so she was late getting home. Most of the lights were out across the Far Shores, and she hurried across the deserted campus, back to the townhouse.

Eerie pulled off her shoes and sweatshirt, and then tossed her basket on the table. She climbed the stairs and hurried to the bedroom. She hesitated at the door, then turned off the lights and threw herself on the bed, curling up against Alex and pulling his arms around her.

She closed her eyes and listened to his steady breathing and the subdued beat of his heart.

The night deepened, and the Far Shores quieted about them, but Eerie could not sleep.

She sighed and then went downstairs, fumbling in the dark for the hoodie she had stolen from Alex’s closet. She found it and took a lollipop from the pocket, and then went back to the bedroom.

She crawled back into bed and unwrapped the lollipop. She put it in her mouth and swirled it around until the candy was wet and sticky. Then, feeling selfish and a little naughty, she turned to Alex, gently prized his mouth open, and carefully inserted the lollipop.

Eerie waited, watching closely to make sure he did not choke.

He rolled to his back, coughed, and then cleared his throat.

She hurried to pull the candy from his mouth.

Alex touched her hand and smiled at her blearily.

“You changed your hair,” he whispered. “I like it.”

She dove into his arms and rested her head against his chest.

“Is everything okay?” He wiped his eyes and glanced around the room, not really appearing to register his surroundings. “Is it time for me to get up?”

“No,” she said, embracing him. “It’s not yet, but I was lonely.”

“You know doing this only makes it worse.”

She snuggled as close to him as was possible.

“I know.”

“You’re just making it harder on yourself,” Alex said, yawning. “How much longer do I have to sleep, anyway?”

“Not long,” Eerie said, pressing her face against his chest so that he could not see her cry. “It’ll be over soon, I just…I couldn’t wait. I had to talk to you. I miss you so much.”

“I understand,” he said, kissing her forehead. “I’d say that it’s the same for me, but you’re always there, somehow, when I’m dreaming. Even this sort of feels…you know. How long do we have before I…?”

“Just a minute,” Eerie said, kissing him tenderly. “Will you hold me, please?”

He wrapped his arms tight around her and held her, until his arms went slack and he began to snore. The first rays of the sun clawed through the featureless grey sky over the Far Shores, where there are no birds to announce the dawn, and no waves crash on the beach. She cried just briefly, in that final hour of the night which is also the first of the morning, and then, lulled by her lover’s steady breathing and the stillness beyond, Eerie finally fell asleep.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Zachary Rawlins lives with his lovely and amazing wife, Chloe, and their genius Corgi, Ein, in a 90-year-old Tudor in Oakland, California. During the day, he works in the environmental industry. In his free time, he enjoys gardening, organizing his books by genre and his comics by publisher, and writing books like this one.

THANK YOU...

...for reading The Church of Sleep! What a ride the Central Series has been. From nowhere and nothing, created by an administrator with literary aspirations and absolutely no idea what he was doing, to ten plus years of effort and patience, millions of words, and so many generous and thoughtful readers. I cannot possibly express my gratitude to every single one of you – it is a literal dream come true. This is the most ambitious work that I’ve yet created, and I am humbled and moved that you chose to give it some of your time.

I’d like to especially thank my wife and my Da, for their tireless efforts on these book’s behalf. There would be no Central Series without their support and hard work. I’d also like to thank the network of family, friends, and contributors that helped make this possible.

So, to the real question…is it over?

Of course not! To me, it is very clear that the story of Central, and Alex and Eerie and all the rest, is far from done. I plan to take a well-earned break from the Central Series for a little while, to work on some other projects that I hope you’ll consider giving them a chance as they become available, but in one form or another, the Central Series will return.

In the meantime, I would be thrilled if you were to check out The Unknown Kadath Estate books or The Night Market, from my cosmic-horror themed series of anime-noir weird fiction, all available presently on Amazon.

Cheers!