Page 39

T he days pass, and the season changes.

When I first returned to the secluded cabin on Mount Greylock, I found my sisters absent.

My heart had leaped into my throat, my newfound ability to feel fear getting the best of me while I searched the cabin, only to confirm that it was empty.

I’d hurried outside to find them running around the side of the building, seeming to appear from nowhere, their thoughts flooding into my mind.

Fury!

You’re back.

You’re safe.

Then they were hugging me, all three of them squeezing the breath out of me until my fright faded, and they led me around to the back of the cabin to show me what was there.

A realm so well hidden from the eye that I struggled to discern it until they led me right into it, revealing another cozy cabin just like the one on the outside. This one is surrounded by wildflowers, has blue curtains at the windows, and the days are always warm with gentle beams of sunlight.

“How?” I asked, unable to ignore that I’d seen touches of this place in Striker’s final memories.

Slade Baines created it for us while you were gone , my sisters replied.

Well, actually, they added, it was because of Striker Draven. Apparently, before you went into the maze, he asked Slade to create a realm for us. So we could have peace.

I guess Striker heard my conversation with Archer Ryan that there isn’t any peace in the city for my sisters.

I stayed within that realm for a single night before I came back out, and after that, I rarely ventured back in.

I just couldn’t sleep there, and at first, I thought it was because it was too quiet. Too much like the stillness of Striker’s death.

Then I wondered if it was because, even though it has attributes he imagined I might like, it doesn’t smell like him.

Out here, in the forest around the old cabin, there are cedars, and their perfume fills my chest with the scent of summer, reminding me of the warmth of cedarwood and calming balsam. Striker’s scent.

Out here, I have a purpose. A purpose that enables me to keep my mind busy.

I have vengeance to claim on behalf of those who can’t claim it for themselves.

For a month, I throw myself fully into that task, heading out every night, often reaching a target before the assassins do. Sometimes, they get there first, and when that happens, I accept it, even if I consider the target evaded the punishment they deserve.

I’m not surprised when Rebella reaches out to me through the hive mind.

She tells me she has recovered and she’s safe, but that navigating the world Vanguard lives in is difficult.

I warn her that I consider him a target, and she acknowledges my feelings with a simple, As you should . And then, with a small laugh, she continues, If I didn’t love him, I’d try to take him out, too.

Now, as another day approaches its sunset, I step out onto the cabin’s porch, trying to tame my increasing restlessness, attempting to focus on the cup of herbal tea I’m hugging in my hands.

One sip at a time.

One minute at a time.

When that doesn’t work, I close my eyes and embrace the tingle of the crisp air on my cheeks, but it isn’t until I inhale the scent of cedars, their crushed leaves making the air fragrant, that I feel centered again.

In that moment, I can believe that Striker has woken up.

As I take another sip of my tea, the whoosh of helicopter blades overhead isn’t the surprise that it used to be. Hunter has come to see me every week since I went into the maze.

But it is unusual for her to visit me so late in the day.

The chopper stops above the clearing two hundred paces away, and I consider her carefully as she rappels to the ground.

I wait patiently for her to hike through the trees, her footsteps light in the undergrowth.

“Vulture Woman,” I call as she approaches. “Why have you darkened my door?”

It’s what my sisters said to Hunter the first time they saw her, and it usually draws a smile-grimace from her.

But for once, Hunter doesn’t immediately respond. The tension in her shoulders and around her eyes grows as she stops at the base of the steps.

I read her thoughts with wariness and speak them aloud before she can. “You’ve come to ask me to kill someone.”

She knows I can read her emotions, and she doesn’t mince words. “Striker’s stepsister, Zara, has asked for your help.”

“ My help?”

Zara and I were never friends. There’s no reason she would trust me with anything important to her.

“If you don’t want to help her, the assassins can step in, but…” Hunter blows out an exhale, and it feels like a careful move before she voices what I can already read in her thoughts. “I fear you might resent us if we take this mission.”

I study her carefully. “What is it?”

As she speaks, I take note of her emotions and how tightly she’s controlling them.

“Before you went into the maze, Striker took control of Draven Industries. At that time, two of the original board members were killed. It seems he acted quickly and, quite frankly, cleverly and ousted the remaining four without bloodshed. He appointed his sister as his proxy if he were ever unavailable, so she’s acted for him while he was in the maze.

But now, with him in a coma, the Magical Magnate is?—”

“They’re trying to take over.” My voice is filled with anger. The Magical Magnate consists of eight ruling members, all corrupt. Draven Industries is a manufacturer of weapons that can be used in both human and supernatural conflicts. It’s a prize they will covet.

“Their names are written in the ledgers of the three Master Assassins,” Hunter says. “I have boxes and boxes filled with evidence against them. I’ve sanctioned the assassinations.”

“But?”

Her jaw clenches, and I’m surprised by what she says next. “They don’t deserve clean deaths.”

I’m even more shocked when her eyes fill with tears. “I’m sorry I didn’t know about the Academy sooner. I’m sorry I didn’t tear it down. You deserved better than that.”

She clears her throat and pulls herself upright. “The entire Magical Magnate is congregating at Draven Industries tonight. We have the chance to take them all out at once. I’m giving you the power to choose if it will be us or you.”

I sink to the top step, sitting heavily on it.

I’ve been clutching my cup of tea, and now I place it down, setting it beside me.

In the distance, the sun sinks below the tops of the trees, and the sky above me starts to reveal its stars.

My surroundings are calm, but my mind is a storm of thoughts.

I have no good place to start. To work through this decision. So I begin with, “You think I can take out eight powerful supernaturals all on my own?”

Hunter ascends the steps to sit beside me. “I know you can,” she says without hesitation. And then, “You know what you are now, right?”

I arch my eyebrows at her. “What am I?”

“Rogue,” she says.

When I give her a quizzical look, she glances pointedly at the empty cabin. “You’ve separated from your sisters.” She quickly lifts her hand in a placating gesture. “Not rejected them. They’re still your family. But you’ve forged a path separate from theirs. You’ve created your own purpose.”

Not untrue.

“Does this purpose involve annihilating the governing body?” I ask, although at the same time, I ask myself another question. “Why am I hesitating?”

Hunter gives me a small smile. “I don’t know. I’m surprised. I thought you would have grabbed your whip and soared out of here by now.”

I guess I know the answer deep in my heart. This heart that feels things again.

I know the answer because I heard it and witnessed it…

I force myself to speak the truth that defies my nature. “Striker wouldn’t want this for me.”

With striking clarity, I remember the brief conversation I had with him at the White Wing Tavern. I was surprised when he talked of peace and said to me, “It’s the only way I can protect the people I care about.”

Including you.

“He wanted peace for me, too,” I say.

For a long moment, I close my eyes because peace is out of my reach and also beyond my nature, but I have control of my choices, and now… my choice in this regard is made.

“Take them out,” I say. “Carry out the assassinations. Do it cleanly and quietly. When you’re done, tell Zara to buy out whatever businesses those supernaturals controlled to the extent that she possibly can. I’m certain Striker will approve.” I take a deep breath. “When he wakes up.”

Hunter’s surprise is palpable, but it settles.

“Okay, then,” she says, rising to her feet and brushing off her backside. With a quick press of the call button on the radio she’s carrying at her waist, she summons the helicopter back.

Before she can head down the steps to wait for it, I snag her attention. “Is Striker…?”

Damn . It’s hard to ask about him when the answer is so important to me.

“Is he still at the Legion? Is he peaceful?”

“No,” she says, then quickly corrects herself. “I mean, yes, he’s peaceful. But no, he’s not at the Legion. He’s on Saber Lane. Tansy wanted to keep watch over him, and we have an excellent apothecary.” She hesitates. “You’re welcome to visit if you’d like?”

Before self-doubt can get the better of me, I say, “I’d like that. Thank you.”

She gives me a quiet nod. “Whenever you’re ready, you’re welcome.”

Okay, then . With that, a weight lifts from my heart.

Soon after Hunter leaves, I head out to New York City, landing on a shadowed rooftop opposite the Draven Industries building.

For long minutes I wait, while the supernaturals reclining around a large oval table on the floor opposite me pour drinks for each other—no doubt elixirs, but in one case, a liquid that is clearly blood.

Then, suddenly, the lights go out.

There’s a nearly imperceptible flash of energy, followed by another.

A mere five minutes later, when the lights come on again, every one of those supernaturals is gone.

The room is clean. There are no bodies. There’s no blood.

Only the drinks remain as evidence that they were ever there.

I hope Zara picks up the cups before they leave water stains.

That’s all the time and energy I give to the manipulators and abusers who hurt me and Striker and the people we cared about so badly.

Those abusers deserve not one more thought from me.

I rise up into the night, preparing my heart for tomorrow.