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“Assistant Director?” Farron managed, his voice hoarse and raspy.

I ignored him and turned to Dacien. “What are you planning to do with him?”

“What do you think?” he scoffed. “His death will be a reminder not to fuck with me.”

“No,” I said. “You can interrogate him, but only on condition you don’t kill him.”

Dacien stared at me coldly. “That wasn’t our agreement.”

“We no longer have an agreement,” I told him. “That ended as soon as we made our covenant.” He couldn’t kill me anymore. His threat held no bite.

“The Aetherborn is already flexing his might, eh?” Dacien said.

“And what do you intend to do with him when I’ve finished interrogating him?

Set him free? Send him back to SPAR?” He shook his head and laughed without humor.

“Wake up, Xan. He knows you’re an Aetherborn, and he’s seen me and Virelle. ”

He was right, but it didn’t change my position. “He’s a SPAR agent and he’s committed no crime. Sending him back is exactly what I intend to do.”

“Then you’re a fool.”

I addressed Virelle. “Can a binding pact like the one we just made be created with Farron?”

“Yes … but he has to agree.”

I let out a slow breath in relief. Then he didn’t need to die. “Fine. If he agrees not to speak, he stays alive.” I turned to Farron. “You got that, right? You cooperate, you walk out of here. If not … well, I think Dacien made it clear.”

Farron pushed himself up, clearly still groggy from the drugs. “I need more than that.” He broke into a fit of coughing, but no one moved to get him a drink. His voice was croaky when he spoke again. “If I tell you what you want to know, I’m a dead man anyway.”

“Because the faction you’re working with will kill you?” I deliberately didn’t drop Moreau’s name; I wanted to hear it from him.

He nodded. “It will get back to them. It always does.”

I crossed my arms and stared him down. “I won’t offer you protection.

You made your choice. Cooperate, and at least you walk out of here.

What you do then is up to you. Run, if you want.

” It was cold, but he wasn’t blameless. Maybe he’d been coerced, and if so then I regretted it had come to this.

But he could’ve gone to Marlow or Firth, and he hadn’t.

Farron clenched his fists as he held my gaze. “All I did was my job—conducting raids on a drug cartel,” he said, spitting the words. He lifted his chin and stared past me at Dacien. “I’d do it again.”

Noble, if foolhardy. “Where’s the bomb?”

“I don’t know,” he said quickly. “You think I would let it go off if I did?”

I searched his expression, and I found myself believing him. I didn’t truly think Farron would be capable of letting such an atrocity occur. “Who does your contact work for? Which faction was providing you the information?”

He pressed his lips thin, defiance in his eyes.

“Fine,” I said, resigned. “Have your moment of stoicism before Virelle rips the information from you. But you could have saved yourself a lot of pain.”

His gaze flinched, but he still said nothing.

Iyoni took a pace forward. “Xan’s patrol route was leaked. Was that you too?” She’d carefully avoided mentioning Moreau, taking the cue from me.

“You’re a celestial ,” Farron said. “Why are you letting this happen?”

“A common misconception, I’m afraid,” Iyoni replied. “We judge; we do not police. Still, answer my question, please.”

Farron clenched his jaw. “I’m a dead man. I’m not talking to any of you.”

I sighed. “We don’t have time for self-sacrifice. Answer us, or we’ll make you.”

“Fuck you,” he spat.

I moved aside, resigned. “All yours, Virelle.” I hated the necessity, but we were out of options.

She stepped forward, grabbing Farron by one of his ears—a convenient handle. He tried to resist, but her strength was clearly greater. She dragged him through the warehouse to a door at the back, her steps punctuated by the whimpers of pain he couldn’t quite hold in.

Turning a man like him over to Virelle made me sick, but what choice was there? Twenty-two hours left.

Dacien didn’t move, dissecting me with his eyes. But the power between us had shifted, and I was past caring.

“You’re going to watch, right? Isn’t that how you get your rocks off?”

He gave me a look of pure fury, yet still turned to follow after Virelle.

I’d only called it how it was. No idea why he was so pissed.

“Are you sure aggravating him is wise?” Kara asked, when the door closed behind him.

I walked to a stack of crates and sat on one, settling in to wait. “He’s toothless now, and he knows it.”

“Yes,” Kara said, coming over to join me. “But he’ll still find ways to make your life hell, if he can.”

Iyoni pulled another crate out and sat down nearby. “Xan will always have enemies,” she said. “How many of them will be strong enough to hurt him is another question altogether.”

“How much stronger am I?” I asked her. “Earlier, you said, ‘Don’t, it’ll consume you.’ What did you mean?”

She waffled her head. “That danger is past … mostly. At the time, you were caught in a swell of power. Like when you first bonded me, do you remember?”

I remembered some of it, before I passed out. “Yes.”

“Well, with Kara’s power in you too, if you’d given in and used it all …” She didn’t finish the sentence, but her tone made her meaning clear.

“So I’ve got access to your aether but I can’t use it?” That was typically ironic.

“No … you can,” Iyoni said. “But your power is much greater, and it’ll take time to get used to it.” She flapped a hand as if to wave the conversation away and start again. “I worked for years to get enough control.”

“Same with me,” Kara said, making her whip appear and cracking it. “My mother taught me, but I don’t recommend that route.”

“Okay …” I said, drawing out the word. I pulled Farron’s wand from my pocket. “What about this? Can it help?”

“Doubtful,” Iyoni said. “It’ll be attuned to whatever aether Farron had, and yours is unique. Finding a focus that would actually help you would be very difficult, and they’re crutches at best. I don’t use them.” She shook her head in disapproval. “Far better to master your magic without them.”

“I was told the same,” Kara said. “Become dependent on a focus, and you’re useless if it’s taken from you or destroyed. Supes get killed that way.”

“You both just said it would take years to learn,” I said, trying to tamp down my frustration. “But can’t I make up for control with raw power?”

“No,” Iyoni said firmly. “It’s the difference between”—she sought around for the right words—“surfing a wave, versus swimming against the tide.”

“Poetic,” I said, resigned. “So what do I do?”

“I don’t know, I’ve never had to teach anyone,” she admitted. “Take tiny sips, I guess? Start small, build up? That’s how I learned.”

“Me too,” Kara added.

“All right … that makes sense.” I shrugged, raising a hand and aiming at a stack of nearby crates. “No time like the present to practice.”

I focused on the bonds I had to both women, pulling aether in minor amounts from each of them. I remembered the sensation I’d had in the street after the patrol was attacked, and envisaged a thin jet of light. Starting small, controlled, like a little laser pointer.

Nothing happened.

I cleared my throat, glanced at the two of them watching me, and tried again. Hand out, drawing more, and I felt a tingle in my palm. I aimed it across the room … yet still there was nothing.

“Like I said, it took me years,” Iyoni commented. “It’ll come in time.”

Time I didn’t have. This was beyond frustrating. “How come I can shield so easily and not do this?”

“Your shield is closer to you, remember?” Kara said. “Makes all the difference.”

“Fine.” She’d told me that back in the bar, and it felt like a lifetime ago.

But I was determined to master this. I pulled harder on the bonds, narrowing my eyes as I concentrated. Aether quickly coalesced in my hand, prickling and borderline painful. That was good—I could do this—but I didn’t let myself get distracted.

It built swiftly, like pressure behind a cork.

I aimed carefully at a distant crate, then let it all out, focusing on making my attack thin and refined, just a sliver of power.

It didn’t work. Or it did, but not how I’d intended.

A blast of searing white energy shot across the warehouse, leaving electric black afterimages behind it, the bolt white-cored but black-tinged.

It hit the crate I was aiming for, and that one and the three around it exploded into shrapnel.

My power carried on, cratering the drywall, shattering bricks before it was spent.

I gasped a ragged breath and slumped on my crate, drained like that one shot had taken everything I had, and then more. I tried to speak, but couldn’t.

“Wow,” Kara said into the silence, the word a breath of awe.

The door Dacien had just walked through crashed open. He stood in the entrance, his demonic nimbus shielding him in readiness for an attack.

I was vaguely aware of Iyoni rising with one hand out to placate Dacien, and Kara reaching for me as I toppled forward.

Then my vision tunneled, and faded to black.

*

“That one’s fine, except for the color.”

“What? It’s white.”

I came to slowly, becoming aware that I was lying on something hard, but my head was pleasantly cushioned. And aching.

“I probably shouldn’t say this, but I get fed up of having to wear white all the time.”

“Why do you then?”

Kara’s lap. That didn’t make me want to open my eyes any sooner.

“Appearances, mostly.”

“Oh. This nice black one?”

“Mmm, yes, that would work. It matches yours.”

My head throbbed. I winced, and both women noticed.

“Xan, you’re awake.” Kara’s hand came down to soothe my brow.

I sat up gingerly, squinting against the throbbing in my skull as I looked around. I was on a couple of crates the two of them had pushed together to form a pallet for me.

“Headache?” Iyoni asked.

I nodded and winced again, regretting the movement.