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And we’re soaring over the street far below. We land on the rooftop across the way, ditching the gear and heading straight for the fire escape. Out of immediate danger, Ero and I pause to catch our breath.

“Hey, talk to me…” I pull his face down, kissing his lips, stroking his cheek.

Ero shakes his head, a frantic, wild look comes over him.

“Ciro … I saw him …”

15

ERO

“Look! There I am!”Ciro cackles, pointing down the road.“There too! And there!”

Everywhere I look, I see him in the crowd, glimpses of him, just flitting out of sight. There, he’s grinning, a busker on the corner, I blink and it’s some random Russian guy.

This all started in Morocco.

The utter fuckery of ghosts and phantoms haunting my periphery. Might be triggered by the fact that I saw myself being experimented on…

Whatever the case, it only got worse when we got to Russia.

My brain’s buzzing, humming with a sort of constant strain and pressure. Everywhere I look I see their faces. My family. I barely made it to the gala without running off on a wild goose chase.

But then …

Something familiar about the speaker’s voice. Then I saw his face.

After that, they’re all around me. Staring at me.

Ciro, the black-haired woman he’s with. Vanya. Yeah, Vanya.

Their clothes are torn, burned.

Adriano, watching me through the bars of a backroom window, blood spattered on his face. A red-headed woman screaming as her date is killed looks just like Gloria.

Alessandro stands still in the press of the crowd, his hand on the belly of a stunning woman next to him, standing in the stark light of the bar. Their skin is pale, tinted blue.

Because they’re dead …

My whole family. Dead.

Then a break in the darkness, Circe calling to me. Kissing me. We soar through the air, landing and running and…

Everything spins out of control, I feel my vision narrow to a pinprick?—

“Ero. Pay attention.”

I raise my head. I look around, feeling a bit confused, a little disoriented, looking up across the table in the long, elegant dining room, I blink a few times.

“Are youherenow?”

The woman is regal, authoritative. I feel like I should know her, but the fog in my brain won’t clear. It reminds me of being a kid trying to climb out of the ball pit and falling back and back and back.

“I’m listening,” I say, because I know I’m supposed to.

“Circe was worried about you. Your performance was shaky on this last mission.”

“No. I’m fine.” I shake my head again. When did we get here?