ASTRID

Come on, Wil! Wake up already!

I close my eyes and search for his aura, holding my breath until I sense him flaring back to life. Good. He may be mad as a fire hornet, but at least he’s conscious again. When Thea showed me how to stun with my mind, she never said how long the effects would last.

Don’t try to follow me. I cast my thoughts through the rock barrier that separates us, hoping he’ll get the message. Take care of Brenne and Vin.

Then I turn and run, tears stinging my eyes.

Frag it. Why did I let him get so close? I knew this would happen, from the moment Gant sent me to York. That’s why I pushed Ferr away, even before his betrayal. Why I encouraged Brenne to pair up with Vin. I’m a lightning rod in a storm. The further away I push my friends, the safer they’ll be.

That’s especially true for Wil. So then why do I feel like I just made this huge mistake by leaving him behind?

You know why.

I slow to a jog, trying to convince myself I did the right thing. It was a mistake to let Wil get so close. Selfish. It doesn’t matter how he makes me feel. I’m not a little girl anymore. No one’s going to hold my hand and make the monster go away. I’ll have to face him alone.

Just like Aletheia.

Thinking of the Great One’s daughter triggers a flood of memories. There’s no time for ghosts, but I can’t shake the feeling I’ve been here before. That I’ve made this choice. Lived this moment in another life.

When I blink, images rush at me like bats flying out of the darkness. I see Megan, her copper hair knotted with grime and tears as she begs me to come with her. James, taking his sister’s hand and promising to keep her safe. Rose, a scowl clouding her pretty face as she tells me I’m being a fool for staying behind.

I jump when someone touches my shoulder, but there’s no one there. The sensation is just a tactile memory: Allie’s husband Mason, drawing her in for a good-bye embrace. Stay alive, he whispers in a voice so familiar my breath catches.

That’s because the voice belongs to Wil. He’s finally learned how to project his thoughts, and he’s reaching me now. Stay alive, he urges. Stay alive, no matter what it takes, and I’ll find you.

Does he realize Mason made this same promise to Allie, thousands of years ago as their world burned to the ground? There was so much love and determination in that promise too, but in the end, he couldn’t save her. She died alone, fighting an enemy she never had a chance of defeating.

I scan the canyon for a good sniper’s position, finding a crevice in one of the walls that will do nicely.

I hope Allie didn’t go quietly in the end. I hope she turned on her hunters and made them bleed, because that’s exactly what I intend to do.

*

When I was eight, my father took me to Enforcer Training Camp Delta for a graduation ceremony. I remember standing on an elevated platform to inspect the new troops. My job was to smile and salute as wave after wave of faceless soldiers marched past us. They kept coming for hours, breaking around our little island like a river of white water. At first, I kept it together and played my part well enough. Smile. Salute. Smile. Salute.

But then they started to chant.

In my nightmares, I still hear the terrifying roar of ten thousand voices, rising and falling as one. I feel myself clinging to Dad’s arm and choking back tears, but there’s no way to block out their battle cry:

We are the shield!

We are the sword!

What do we bring to our people?

Peace!

What do we bring to our enemies?

Death!

Somehow, I must have sensed this moment would arrive. I must have known that one day, they’d be coming for me.

Well, let them bleeding come.

I reach into my hip pocket for the ammo I stole from Cael. Three frag clips, each carrying a hundred rounds. There’s only one way to reach me – through a narrow passage that’s slick with rain and shrouded in mist – so the Enforcers will have to squeeze through single-file. Should be easy to pick them off, one by one.

Unless they’re wearing graphene or titanium body armor.

No point in worrying about that now. I crouch in a sniper’s stance, careful to keep the frag gun barrel concealed. The hiding spot I’ve chosen, wedged between two walls of rock, couldn’t be more uncomfortable, but I won’t be waiting here long. The canyon makes a hair-pin turn before reaching my position, and the Enforcers are gathering just out of sight. I sense their dark aura, but there’s something else. Flashes of color up front, like butterflies darting through a swarm of locusts.

Guardians. I need to disable them before they track down the Aletheians, especially that hot-head Lily. Her aura’s about as hard to spot as an erupting volcano.

I figured out how to cloud other Sifters when I was nine. The trick is to use chaotic thoughts as weapons, amplifying and projecting them in bursts. That’s what I did to Wil during the Fox Hunt, but I had a crowd of hostile Settlers to work with.

Here, I’ll need to scavenge. I close my eyes and sift the approaching Enforcers, finding what I expected. Nothing. I’d have better luck pulling human emotions out of the canyon walls.

Looks like I’ll have to improvise. I squeeze my lids shut and focus on the nearest Guardian, channeling all the dissonant thoughts I can remember. A hungry child in Washton, begging for food. Lily, resisting the urge to punch me in the face. Dillan, fighting off a ripper as it tears into his hand. Concentrate. Amplify. Project. I move from Guardian to Guardian, replaying the toxic memories until my head feels like it’s about to explode. Then I clear my mind, taking a deep breath before opening my eyes again.

What I see makes no sense, unless I accidentally managed to cloud myself. Literally. The ground has vanished beneath a disorienting layer of fog, which floats toward me in ghostly fingers.

First thought: I won’t see the Enforcers coming. But then I catch a whiff of burnt plastic and realize that’s the least of my problems.

Myostun gas.

I cough and pull my shirt over my mouth, as if that’s going to make any difference. Chem weps like Myostun were designed for crowd control. One canister releases enough gas to paralyze a city block.

Stupid! Why didn’t I check Cael’s supplies for a mask?

I drop to the ground and belly-crawl away from the toxic fumes, but the Myostun is already in my bloodstream, turning my muscles to jelly. At first, it feels like I’m scrambling through mud. Then wet cement, setting around my limbs. When my legs give out, I use my arms to inch forward until they’re useless too. The gas thins up ahead to reveal an outline of the canyon floor and something else.

Boots, stomping toward me.

I try to raise the frag gun, but it may as well be bolted to the ground. It takes all my energy just to lift my head.

“Over there!” a gruff voice shouts and the footfalls grow louder. Moments later, two Enforcers loom over me. One kicks away my weapon while the other uses his boot to roll me onto my back. I stare up at him and gasp for air, heart fluttering like a bird trapped inside my chest.

“One hostile neutralized,” he reports into his head comm while his partner fixes a pulse rifle on me. “Female. No reading on her chip. Stand by for ret scan.”

As the white fumes of Myostun clear, their armor shimmers and then darkens to match the canyon stone. Adaptive camo. That kind of tech is reserved for the Elite Guard, but these helmets carry marks I’ve never seen before: a green serpent, body cleaved in two by a crimson sword.

These are no ordinary Enforcers. They’re something new and terrifying.

One soldier jerks my head up while the other thrusts a cylindrical device in front of my eyes. I close them in defiance, prompting a low, sinister laugh. The raspy voice I hear next is something straight out of a nightmare.

“We can scan those pretty eyes inside your head or rip them out first. Your choice.”

When I squeeze my lids shut tighter, someone kicks me in the stomach.  Pain explodes from my hips to my rib cage, but I can’t do anything to defend myself. The gas has rendered me helpless, and my captors seem to relish this. Their auras flare with ugly emotions that no Enforcer should feel: deep red pulses of hatred and something darker, something that makes me want to retch.

They grab my ankles and I try to kick them away, but my legs are dead weight. All I can do is lie there like a corpse as they drag me through the mud. When we finally reach our destination, they prop me up roughly against a boulder.  Gloved fingers poke at my right eye, trying to force a lid open. I’m too weak to turn my head now, so I spit at my attacker, prompting another peal of laughter, only this sound is different. High-pitched and airy. Almost as instantly recognizable as the sour voice that follows.

“Forget the scan. That’s her.”

My eyes fly open to what must be a nightmare. What else could explain the sudden appearance of the person who tried to ruin my first four years at the Academy? The girl who spread gossip about me and whispered vicious rumors into my classmates’ ears. Who once threatened to poison me in my sleep and make it look like suicide.

I stare into those amethyst-blue eyes that inspired her name. At the white, purple-streaked curls framing her pixie face, like frost on a windowpane. At her cruel smirk. I thought I’d finally be free of her when she graduated, but even that didn’t get her out of my life. Not while I kept dating her brother.

“Violet,” I gasp.

“Astrid Blake, blood traitor.” Her lips, pink and full as Ferro’s, twist into a menacing smile. “That was some trick you just played, deviant. Took out three of my Guardians, but we still found you, didn’t we?”

I keep staring at her, my mind refusing to accept what I’m seeing. Violet Rhone. How could she possibly be here?

“I have so many questions for you,” she purrs, “but let’s start with a simple one. Where is my brother?”

That explains it. She must have volunteered to hunt me down, knowing this would be the best way to find Ferro. I’d give her credit for trying to rescue him, but I know Violet well enough to know better. She’s here to protect her family name. To prove to Cillian Gant that the Rhones are loyal servants. And then there’s the added perk of watching me suffocate to death.

“Where is my brother?” she repeats, aiming a pulse rifle at my head. “What have you done with him?”

I try to speak, but the words gurgle in my throat.

“What’s wrong?” She cocks her head to the side in a creepy, bird-like motion. “Having trouble breathing?”

I glare at her but there’s something wrong with my vision. Too much light. Her features blur, like I’m underwater and she’s floating above me, backlit by the sun. My lungs scream for oxygen, but I can’t breathe. I’m suffocating. Dying. The realization should trigger panic, but all I feel is sadness and longing. For all that I’ve lost. For all I’m about to lose. I close my eyes and see my father, eyes shining with tears, mouth pressed into a defeated line. This is how he looked when we buried Mom and Jake. How he’ll look when Gant makes him bury me.

I’m so sorry, Dad. Sorry to bring you more pain. All I wanted was to save you, but I wasn’t strong enough.

“My brother,” Violet hisses, pulling me out of the haze for one last moment of clarity. “Tell me where he is and I’ll let you breathe again.”

“Drrrr-op…” I force in a shallow breath, then meet her gaze and cough out what might be the last word of my life: “dead.”

***

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