Endgame

Text copyright© 2016 Patricia A. Doherty/Kate Wrath

All Rights Reserved

Cover art copyright© Patricia A. Doherty

All Rights Reserved

For my little lion, Kaelyn.

Chapter 1: Messy

THE COLD NIGHT air hits my lungs, fresh and sweet, tinted with the vague smell of wood smoke. I step out onto the porch, my head abuzz with the warmth of whiskey, my body gently numb until Matt's hand lightly touches my waist as he shuffles out of the Rustler behind me. Now I'm feeling everything. The sharpness of the air, the rush of blood moving under my lips, my skin tingling, his body heat so near me. Everything.

I move to the side, away from the light and voices spilling out the door. A quieter place to talk, to share these fragile words. How odd to find myself in this moment, this place in the dark saturated with feelings and words of trust… with Matt. Insane, part of me insists as I turn to him and see who I know he is. But he's more things. Deep things. He's the guy who risked his life to help me with an impossible quest. The one who gave me closure after all this time. He's the past three hours of listening and understanding. He's the right words. He's the encouragement to speak things that I have not been able to speak until now. The ability to feel pain and begin to release it. He's the night and the dark and the heat, and whatever this thing is that rises inside me as he steps toward me.

Oscar was amazing in so many ways. Matt's voice is gentle as it touches the name of the little boy who meant everything to me. The main topic of our three-hour conversation. The thing that I held onto until there was no choice but to let go. But there's one thing that I owe him everything for.

What? I whisper, raising my face to him as his hands stroke down my arms.

He leans closer, his eyes finding mine. He brought you back to me.

I can't speak at first for the racing of my heart and rushing of my head. Then all at once I'm against the wall, and Matt's pressed close against me, his mouth leaning down to mine. I tip my face up to him, but just before his lips find mine, I whisper, I'm not staying.

He stops. Opens his eyes and gazes down at me, breathing. A slow smile stretches across his face. Really.

Really, I insist, hoping my voice will be stronger and finding it breathy instead.

He just smiles his cocky smile, his eyes searching mine. Finally, his mouth so close to mine, he says, I'm sure I can convince you. I can taste his words, his whiskey-sweet breath.

I manage to find a little defiance in my voice, my words, but not my body. Planning on stuffing me in the VR machine, then?

He chokes, or laughs, or something in between. Then he's smiling again, leaning closer, his mouth to my ear. His voice, so tantalizing. I have better ways.

My little gasp betrays me. I'm sliding against the wall and I push with my feet, but more than making myself upright, I press tighter against him, which he clearly likes, and goddamn me, I like it, too. Especially when he presses back.

His hands are on my waist, his fingers playing under the hem of my shirt, his thumbs stroking my stomach under my waistband. And I'm not sure my body was made to handle this kind of intensity— an intensity that grows as he kisses my neck, then draws back just enough to look into my eyes, the tip of his nose against my nose. Let me convince you, Eden. He nuzzles my cheek with his nose— a primal, animal gesture— then close, so close, holding my gaze with his, whispers, You know you want me to.

I drag in breath through my parted lips. The whole world is spinning, now. My fingers tangle in the sides of his shirt, kneading. Underneath the material, his body is hard, and against me, his body is hard. His mouth finds my open mouth. There's no waiting. His tongue presses in, deep into a mouth so open to him, head tilted, back arched, body collapsed against him. He's tasting my throat, pressing, seeking, his lips urgent and soft and firm and slipping. His body against me is just as insistent, his hands tugging my hips, his thighs pushing against my thighs. I reach up, grab handfuls of hair at the back of his head, and hold him tight against me, kissing back, pressing back, consumed with the sensations in my body, wanting this to never stop and simultaneously wishing that we were somewhere private.

Matt pulls back suddenly, panting, shivering. One arm scooped around my waist pulls me tight against his stomach while his other hand cups my chin, his thumb stroking over my bottom lip. Let's go, he whispers, and I'm sliding past him, catching his hand. I don't know or care where we're going, so long as it's him and me and no one else. Our quick footsteps make off into the night.

Eden! Thank god! The words crash into my spine from behind. I jerk to a halt in the street, Matt still holding tight to my hand. I slowly turn around, already feeling my world caving in.

Kill and Tara rush toward us. We've been looking all over for you, Tara says as Matt wraps his arms around me from behind and pulls me close—clearly unwilling to give me up to them, though he must already know, too.

I'm too self-focused to do more than spit out the required words. What's going on? Please let it be something that can wait a little while.

It's Duck, Kill says, shaking his head. She's freaking out.

"About what?" Now the concern seeps into my voice.

I don't know, he says, too fast, raking fingers through his buzz-cut hair. We don't know.

She's just— Tara says, her face grave with concern. She reaches out and squeezes my arm. She needs you. You have to come right now.

Fuck.

I take a deep breath and extract myself from Matt's arms. He makes no protest other than a low growl.

I have to go, I say, turning to him, placing one hand on his chest.

He clamps his jaw and says nothing.

Then I'm following Tara and Kill off down the street, trying to breathe, get hold of myself, stop thinking about Matt and start thinking about Duck. What the hell could possibly be wrong with her?

They lead me at high-speed through the streets of Futtlac and back to the cavern where our people are staying on a temporary basis. No sooner are we inside than their pace slows dramatically. They turn off to the side, but before I can follow, someone grabs my jacket by the sleeve.

What the hell? I say, turning to Apollon, knowing it's him before I see him leaning up against the cavern wall, little more than a shadow. What's wrong with Duck?

She has abandonment issues, Apollon says. She's a bit obsessive about aether mining, a little too eager to please, and at times, annoying. He pauses, then adds, She could use a bath and a hairbrush.

I stop and blink. A breath later, I say, Oh no you just didn't—

Stop you from making a big mistake?

I place my hands on my hips and cock my head. You're the one who told me to find a guy.

I told you to sleep with someone, he says, quite calmly. Not fall in love with an evil overlord.

"Semi-evil overlord."

I notice you didn't protest the falling in love part.

I'm not in love with him, I laugh, palms up beside my shoulders. My voice is a touch too high.

Apollon peers at me through the darkness.

Look, I say, trying to make my voice steady whilst filling up the uncomfortable silence, "I don't do love. Someone convinced me it's too messy."

It is damned messy, Apollon agrees.

Not sure what to say to that, so I say, Right. No falling in love. Got it. I look back the way I came.

Are you going to make me bodily restrain you?

"You're a crappy bloodsworn, you know. What did I ever do to you?"

He snorts. I can just see his smug smile as he peels himself away from the wall and moves toward me. He throws one big arm around my shoulders and gets me moving down the corridor… in the wrong direction. Come on, Eden, he says. Walk it off.

You're so condescending. Walk it off? Really? But here I am, walking with him. Next time you're snooping around some girl, I'm going to try that. 'Walk it off, Apollon.' We'll see how you like it when the tables are turned.

There's a great big grin across his face when I glance up at him. But he puts on a serious face and voice, and says, My snooping days are over. I've seen the light, and her name is Lozzi.

Fine, I say. "That's fine. You fall in love. But the balance must be maintained. That leaves me to be the alley cat. So—"

Great. He stops and faces me. "Alley cat away, Eden. I will personally go and fetch you any guy in Futtlac… except that one. So who's it gonna be? He crosses his arms, a smile twitches on his face, and, damn him, he starts listing them. West? He must have a thing for West, because he's always first. Ben? Jacob— how about Jacob?"

My arms are crossed too, and I really want to lash out. But that won't get me anywhere. I sigh heavily and pout at him. Why can't I have Matt?

After the slightest pause, Apollon says, Now that's just pitiful.

Then he's snickering, and I'm snickering but trying to hide it, and then it's all-out laughter, and I'm clutching his arm as we lean on each other, stumbling around, punch-drunk on humor. I laugh way more and way harder than I need to, and bless him, he laughs along with me. When I'm done, some of the tension is gone. My body is drained and numb. Matt's kiss is just the slightest, lingering ache in my stomach.

We slump side-by-side against the cool rock of the cavern, staring at our feet. God, Apollon has big feet. I kick mine impatiently and mumble, I don't want anybody else.

His head rolls against the cavern wall as his eyes move sideways to my face. You're not thinking clearly. You don't want to do this. You really don't.

But I do, I moan. I really do.

He sighs, but gives no other answer.

What's so bad about Matt? I ask, immediately following it up with, "Don't answer that. I know what's so bad about Matt. He's a semi-evil overlord. But… I mean… he's nice, sometimes. He's really nice."

Nice? Apollon says, giving me a look.

He is, I insist, my hand brushing at the dirt beside my leg. He listens to me. And… and he cares about me. My voice drops lower. I know he really does.

The evil overlord listens to you and cares about you… but you're not falling in love with him.

"Where do you get these sarcasm skills? Did you make a bargain with the devil or something?"

Apollon readjusts himself, sitting up straight and turning half toward me. There's no mirth in his blue eyes, now. No trace of smile on his face. "Bottom line, Matt is dangerous. Matt has always been dangerous. You're one-hundred-percent screwed up right now, and whether or not you're falling for him, he's completely head-over-heels in love with you."

I open my mouth to protest, but he's not done.

A man in love will do all kinds of crazy, desperate things. You're making him think he has a chance of keeping you, and all the while, you're planning on going back to Miami. You're playing with fire, Eden. So unless you really want to stay here and become the Queen of Futtlac… Damn him, I knew he would use it against me. …then I suggest you avoid Matt like the plague and concentrate on getting us ready to go.

I grip my knees and sigh. It's not that simple.

Apollon eyes me, one eyebrow arching.

I turn my face toward him, still bent over my knees. We're not going home. Not yet.

His eyebrows climb higher.

We're going to do this thing. We're going to free the world of the Sentries.

For once, Apollon has no words.

I know it's not a decision to be taken lightly, I say. I've thought about it long and hard. It's possible that I've made the wrong decision. That the world we create will be messed up. That things will go wrong.

In the long silence, he finally asks, Then why do it?

"Because I know that this world is messed up. Things like what happened to Oscar— that should never have happened. It's wrong on the deepest level. I can stop that. I can prevent it. And maybe… maybe what comes after this will be better."

Apollon stares at the opposite wall, thinking and breathing. His blue eyes are a touch wider than usual, his carefree smile a small, solemn mouth.

I rub my palms down my pant legs. It's not going to be easy. It's going to take everything we've got and then some. I turn and look Apollon in the face. I'm going to ask for Matt's help.

Chapter 2: Choices

AMAZING, THE KIND of clarity a good night's sleep can bring. That, and a handful of nightmares involving the ghost of your dead ex-boyfriend/kidnapper, who's rather unhappy about you kissing someone whose name is not tattooed on your lip. Talk about guilt. But maybe Jonas haunting me is a good thing. Maybe Apollon's right.

No. Not maybe. Definitely.

No falling for overlords— evil, semi-evil, or otherwise. I've made up my mind, and from now on, it's back to business.

First order of business: hairbrushes. Maybe I don't really need one, but Apollon is right on this count, too. Duck is a mess. If I'm really taking her on, there's got to be more to it than teaching her dangerous and highly questionable aether mining tricks.

In the marketplace, I stop at a booth that sells brushes of all sorts. Brooms, scrubbing brushes, and yes, hairbrushes. I select a nice big paddle brush with a polished wooden handle. There's even a little bird carved into the end of the handle. Too bad it's not a duck.

Signaling the lady behind the tables, I don't even ask the price— just dump a handful of coins into her hands. If I ask, she'll probably try to give it to me for free. I'm tired of all that.

I was thinking, Duck says behind me, not paying any attention to what I'm doing. When I turn to her, her eyes are glazed over, staring at nothing in the distance. "If you set the depth gauge to the deepest setting when you do the overcharge, could you create an underground explosion?"

"Why would you want to create an underground explosion?" I hold up the brush, then place it in her hand.

She shrugs. Idunno. Maybe it could come in handy.

You scare me, kid. Always wanting to blow things up or set them on fire.

Her dirty face quirks into a grin. Only when necessary.

I laugh and tousle her matted hair as I begin walking again. She trails along after me, and when I glance back at her, her head is down, inspecting the carved handle of her gift.

I'm on my way to see Neveah, to get her to pick a splinter out of my palm, which is probably a poor excuse for a visit… but I don't care.

Hey, Duck, comes a voice I am not prepared to hear right now. Matt saunters up to us from the side. Feeling better?

Wha? says Duck, and I just avoid smacking myself in the face.

Matt gives me a vicious smile. I don't smile back. We just stand here and stare at each other, him with his teeth bared in greeting, and me, completely deadpan.

It was a bad idea, I finally say. I'm sorry, Matt. But ultimately, I'm leaving. It was always going to end badly.

Matt steps closer, touches my arm. I'm tired of the bad endings. His voice is husky with emotion. We have choices. We get to decide how it ends.

I look down, unexpected tears springing to my eyes. His openness and sincerity have caught me off guard— a far cry from the kneejerk violent reaction of an evil overlord, for sure. This is the Matt who helped me look for Oscar. Matt, my friend. I don't want to hurt him, but I have no choice. I have responsibilities, I whisper. I won't be staying.

His head jerks back as though I've hit him, his hand retracting from my arm. Anger and pain sparkle through his hazel eyes. He turns and strides away, jaw tight, shoulders rolling like a predator. Now that's Matt.

I stand here watching him go, until I remember Duck. I glance at her.

She stands at my side, face tilted up to me, eyeing me. Her expression is full of questions.

Let's go. I take her by the shoulder and stalk off in the other direction.

"So, when are you going to enlist Matt's help in, y'know… changing the grand scheme of the universe 'n' all?" Apollon leans his cheek lazily on his hand, studying me from the next barstool over. A lock of blonde hair flops over one eye and he blows it out.

I take a drink of my whiskey, then set the glass on the bar and watch the colors swirl around, playing with the light. Idunno, I mutter. I'm beginning to think it's a bad idea.

Apollon sighs. Well… you're right. I mean, you were also right that he could be a big help. But then, I'm not so sure our people would be happy about it.

You mean West?

I mean West.

West is going to have to get over the protectiveness thing, anyway. He can't be standing on hatches all the time.

Apollon snorts and raises his glass to his lips, polishing off its contents. He sets it back on the bar. He means well.

Yes, I admit. West always means well.

We sit in silence for a long stretch, then I say, We're going to have to make a move soon. We can't get caught here in the winter. Either way, we need to go back home for a bit.

Home, he echoes, his voice tasting the word. Yes, Miami. Home.

I… I just need a little longer. I need to talk to Matt.

Apollon eyes me.

I will soon.

He nods.

And I will. I have to. Because it's not just about taking down the Sentries. It's personal. But not for me. There's still a chance that Matt's Helpers will bring Lozzi back to the— to Futtlac. A chance to reunite her with Apollon. If I have to wait a few more days for that, then so be it. I'd do just about anything to see the look on Apollon's face when he sees her again. And… And I would really like it if Matt and I could set things right. If I could leave here on good terms with him.

Did I ever expect that to happen? And if so, then why did I have Bonzai's group make a secret camp in the woods?

I tap my fingers on the bar and purse my lips. If only, just this once, things could be easy.

Drumming up the courage to face my fears, I confront Matt on his own territory. His cavern home is private. We can talk here, and he has nothing to prove. No one watching.

He says nothing, but stands aside, so I slip through the wooden door set in the tunnel.

Can we talk?

He gestures to chairs before the built-in fireplace. I sit in mine. The one I think of as mine. The one I used to have to share with Valentine, back in Outpost Three. Today, she's curled up by the fire, snoring.

Matt takes his usual seat, leans back in the chair, and waits.

The words that I spent so much time considering now evade me. While I'm still trying to drum them up, a smile slinks onto his face.

Couldn't stay away, huh?

Damn me, I smile. No, not just smile. I break into this big, laughing, blushing grin, my eyes darting to his face, meeting his. And then his smile gets bigger. He sits forward in his chair and—

No! I hold up one finger in warning. I'm not doing this. Being cute will get you nowhere.

So you think I'm cute, Matt says, opting to continue with the cuteness. He half-shrugs. Not exactly how I would have described myself, but I suppose it's not bad.

Stop it.

I was thinking more like… virile, he muses.

It's a wonder he and Apollon don't get along.

…Seductive, he elaborates, then pauses and looks at me. Will being virile and seductive get me anywhere?

It damn-well might, says my thudding heart while the rest of me says, Nonononono. No. My voice is steady and firm. It's a done deal. There's nothing more to it.

There's a hell of a lot more to it, Eden, he insists. His eyes are full of determination.

I don't know what to say or how to put an end to this. Matt has always been persistent, and now… well, maybe Apollon was right about me encouraging him. I've got to simply make it clear to him that this is a no-go. Best way to do that? Apollon's magical method of getting rid of guys in ten seconds or less ought to do the trick. Look, I say bluntly, I'm not going to have sex with you.

A smile slinks onto Matt's face and he just sits there looking at me. Now why didn't that work? For all intents and purposes, he should be kicking me out the door right now.

But no. Matt leans toward me, reaching out to touch my knee. His eyes are full of emotion. And virility. And seductiveness. His smile quirks with inner amusement.

I bolt to my feet. No. I mean it. No joking around, Matt. There's no 'us'. There never was an 'us'. And on the off chance that there was, we're through. I yank the otter ring off of my finger. This is yours. I can't keep it. I thrust the piece of gold into his hands, step back, and run my fingers through my hair. It sinks in, what I just did. A little ache wriggles into my heart, making me press my lips together.

Open-mouthed, Matt blinks at the ring in his hands. He looks at me. No more smile. Only questions and pain in his hazel eyes.

I can't take that look. Can't take the emptiness that I suddenly feel. I spin around and head for the door, not stopping until I'm well out of the caverns.

What did I just do? Part of me grieves for the ring I've worn for nearly a year now. Protests the meaning behind it. How easily I tossed it all away. I shove my hands in my pockets and stalk down the hill, through the streets of Futtlac. Well, I've done it, now. Burnt the bridges I meant to burn, and some I didn't intend to. There's no going back. No asking Matt for help, now. And Lozzi? If the Helpers were going to catch her, surely they'd be back by now.

It's time to leave this place behind and get on with the plan. There are bigger things at stake than my overly-confused heart. More important things than personal relationships. Yes. It's time to change the world.

My people are preparing to go. We've made no attempt to hide the fact— like Matt couldn't figure it out, anyway. I've said my goodbyes, and I'm just waiting on our crew to get everything together— a task West should be overseeing. Instead, he's glued to my side, eyes restless and roaming. It all seems a bit pointless, because, in the last two days, Matt has done nothing but avoid me— aside from one darting, morose look when he didn't think I was watching. I feel like crap, just leaving like this, but at least I'm being plain about it. At least we're not sneaking off in the night.

It shouldn't be long, now. We'll leave this place behind and probably never come back. I'll just add this to the list of shitty things I've done. Things I try not to think about. People I try not to think about. How am I not going to think about Matt, though, when he's all I've thought about for the past two days? I've gone and done it, haven't I? Fallen for the last person I should have fallen for. Of course it would come to this. Of course it would end badly.

I'm tired of the bad endings.

A sigh shudders out of me. Me too, Matt. I am, too.

Don't worry, West says, at my shoulder. Not long, now. You'll feel better when we're on our way home.

I nod. But I won't. Not in the slightest. Still, I put on a brave face, striding through the marketplace. Just a last-minute look for anything that might be of use on our journey.

Wait for me! Duck's voice drifts to us from the way we came. She comes running with her aether trap.

Keep up if you want to come along, I mutter.

I am, she insists, her hair flapping in the breeze. It's longer than I expected, now that it's combed. I was just experimenting.

I glance at her empty aether chamber. Please be careful.

She nods and kneels down to do some more experimenting, setting the trap on the ground, fixing the anchors.

West tenses beside me. I look up, and here comes Matt.

First thing: a little glimmer of joy. I want to say goodbye. I need to say goodbye. But after that initial rush, the appropriate dread follows.

Hey, Matt says, his eyes finding mine.

Hey. We can do this. It doesn't have to be bad. We can part on good terms, with both of us in one piece, instead of this… shredded.

So you're going, he says.

I nod. Yeah.

We stand in silence for a moment. I thought maybe there was something you wanted to tell me before you go.

My lips part. Talk about putting me on the spot. Words flutter around inside me. Words I long to speak, but can't. In the end, I only manage a fraction of what I want to say. But saying this much, at least, is good. Right. My voice is breathy, filled with emotion. I'll miss you, Matt.

He blinks once, his face deadpan. No. You won't. And I'm staring down the barrel of his revolver.

West, at my side, has his own pistol pointed at Matt's face.

Me, I'm just standing here, staring at Matt. Perhaps I should have known, but even in this moment, all I can find is disbelief.

Seriously? You're planning on keeping me here at gunpoint?

He's planning on putting the gun down, West says, his voice low with warning. Because I'll shoot him a lot faster than he'll shoot you.

There's a flaw in your plan. Matt's eyes flick to West— no, past him. A telltale 'click' issues from behind us. Crap.

…What the hell? I say to Matt. I mean, really?

Now his eyes turn back to me. No smile. When he speaks, his voice is soft and deadly. I warned you, Eden. I told you never to cross me again.

"What?"

A sideways nod of Matt's head. Some of his men approach carrying between them a metal box with a thick lock. They set it on the ground before me, next to a wide-eyed Duck.

Crap, crap, crap.

Open it.

My eyes flick to Matt, a million questions in them.

But he's got a question of his own. Holding out on me?

I open my mouth. No answer comes out.

A subtle movement of the gun, an adjusting of his finger on the trigger, shows me how serious he is. Open it.

I swallow and begin to shake my head. I don't have the key.

Who does?

What do you think you're going to find in there? Surely none of our people told him. Surely. My eyes flick to Duck, but she's just staring up at me, frozen.

The chip they pulled out of your head, Matt says. The one with all the information about the Sentries.

No. My eyes fall on Duck once again. She gives a small shake of her head, her eyes desperate for me to believe her. But if she didn't tell him, then… Who?

Me. A sweet, musical voice, hard with conviction.

I don't care if Matt has a gun on me. I turn toward her, my eyes going wide. "Celine?"

Chapter 3: Uninvited Company

SHE'S GOT A sawed-off shotgun trained on us— all that steel, and a sun-goddess' body swathed in filmy pink, like the cold up here doesn't affect her. Her lips curl into a smile of self-amusement. Her voice matches. Hey, Kitten.

My insides react to that greeting, a messed-up combo of warm-and-fuzzies punctured by loss, regret. Shut up, Lily. I don't need you right now. My eyes slowly scan around behind her, where the marketplace has cleared out, save for a handful of Matt's men, who also have guns.

Oh, they're here, Celine purrs. Behind you. And I believe you've met our other friend, too.

I turn around slowly this time, not really wanting to face Spec and Kobee. Not wanting to see the doppelgangers they've become. All because of a promise. But maybe I can reason with them. I've decided to take Jonas' path, anyway, so maybe, if they'll just keep Kalisha out of it, we can work out an agreement.

When I turn, when my eyes find them, my breath catches in my chest. I'm unable to speak until, at last, the whisper drains out of me. No.

The last person you expected? asks Grey, his voice as cold and hard as his eyes.

I stare at the overlord of Outpost Two, the world falling around me. Everything comes back— the viciousness of winter, cut off from supplies. People starving, dying. Sickness and despair at every turn. Hopelessness. I remember how Jonas and Apollon wanted to hide me and Miranda in a hole. How Matt had fought to the last. I remember his fingers on my skull, ready to break my neck rather than give me up to Grey. And now… what? They're friends?

I turn my eyes to Matt, shaking my head. No. You can't. No.

But Matt is stone-cold. Shut off.

This is easy, Eden, says Celine, behind me. Open the box. Hand over Coder. We don't want to hurt you.

Something flickers in Spec's eyes, though his face is deadpan. Neither he nor Kobee have said a single word. But I know, in the depths of me, that Spec doesn't want to hurt me. Of course he doesn't. It's only the bloodsworn thing. The promise that holds him captive.

Speak for yourself, says Grey. I have a score to settle with her blonde friend.

Oh, god. Does he know what Apollon did? My mind flashes back, way back to Apollon and a warehouse lab with sickly looking vials. Apollon, god of the plague. I remember the night that Apollon confessed to me his part in the plan to bring down Outpost Two.

She'll be perfect bait, Grey goes on. And after that… well… spoils of war.

Stepping forward, West's pistol swings to Grey. My fingers dig into my friend's arm, pulling him back. A glance at his face reveals teeth bared in a snarl.

You can have Apollon, says Matt. And you can do whatever you like with him. But this one… He flashes me a smile. …is mine.

…And this whole thing just got way, way, way too bad. No way is anyone getting Apollon. I glance down at Duck. Her eyes meet mine. As I lift my gaze, I can just sense the movement of her hand, slipping down. Good girl.

I offer Matt a sympathetic smile. "I know it hurts. And I really didn't want it to be like this. But this isn't how you get the girl. I shrug, still smiling at him. And you can't say I didn't warn you that it would all end badly."

Duck stands up beside me. My smile disappears, my eyes narrowing as I shake my head at Matt. We're through.

The wind whooshes past us, and riding its coattails is the high-pitched whine of an aether trap powering up. The ground beneath us begins to rumble.

Matt's eyes are the first to go wide, but everyone else is only an instant behind. Duck and I are grinning. Warnings sound from the circle around us, a slew of half-cut-off exclamations and nonsensical sounds that basically all mean the same thing: run for your life.

The pack that surrounds us flees, ditching into the dirt, covering. We waste no time doing the same.

The ground shakes violently and erupts, spewing aether into the trap so forcefully that it shatters the glass bulb of the tank. Aether spits everywhere, leaving fire in its wake. But by then, we're up and running.

Duck tears her hand out of mine, slamming on the brakes. That bastard has the box!

I'm not sure which bastard she's referring to, but it doesn't matter. I grab her arm. Leave it. Come on!

Duck flies into motion, following my commands. Then we're running for it, West urging us onward as he brings up the rear. A whistle beckons to us from the distance. Our people are moving. Time to see if this emergency evacuation plan really works.

To the truck! West pushes me forward and stops between two trees.

West! I whirl, already steps beyond him.

West is brushing leaves away from the base of the tree. Go!

But—

"Go, Lil."

Something in his voice makes me listen. A death grip on Duck, I scramble up the hill toward our trucks.

Just down the slope, I hear metal footsteps— the first Helper to come after us. I glance behind me and see it below, tracing our path. West is crouched behind the tree, hidden.

I choose to trust him and keep running.

The Helper's steps thud onto the hard ground beneath the carpet of leaves, heading toward us.

Run, Duck, I urge, half-dragging her as her feet slip in the leaves. I glance down. Her face is white with fear. Panting, she pushes forward, wasting no energy on a response.

WHOOMPH.

I whirl, falling back. As I catch myself, I watch a barrage of leaves tumble from the sky. Some random bits of metal. In-between the trees, the main bulk of the Helper flails, but does not get up.

Whoomph. Off in the distance. Whoomph. Whatever the hell that is, I like it.

West runs up the hill toward us, gesturing us forward. Go!

We sprint toward the trucks. Then our people are grabbing us, hauling us up, giving us rifles. We line the deck and shoot at anything that moves, but somehow, we're way ahead of them. Our trucks barrel off into the wilderness, toward the rest of our convoy.

We're done with this place. That's it. Goodbye

Day two of our journey. Halfway through. After a mad dash away from Futtlac, picking up Bonzai's part of our convoy, we've continued west for a while, and then south. West, because it was the wrong direction, and we're hoping it will throw off any pursuit.

The forest is thick, making our progress slow and methodical as the convoy winds its way around obstacles. We haven't stopped to eat or sleep. These things are done in shifts, climbing around awkwardly in moving vehicles.

I'm on the deck of the rear truck, keeping watch behind us, rifle at the ready, when I hear the noise.

Ben, next to me, tilts his head, listening. Is that…?

The noise grows closer at an alarming rate, moving from barely-audible hum to revving, high-pitched, intense engine noise. Loud, singular, familiar.

Ben and I glance at each other, our eyes wide. We scan the tree-scattered horizon with our rifle scopes.

The motorcycle bursts out of the tree-cover at our rear, coming at breakneck speed, twisting madly around trees, slanting impossibly, launching over hills and rocks.

Stop! Ben and I are both yelling. He runs to the front and pounds on the cab. Stop!

Word goes up the line and our convoy skids to a halt. I'm down off the truck the instant it's still, striding toward the back. Doors clamber down the line as people get out, rushing to see what's happening.

Even as we make it around the truck, Nitro's motorcycle is skidding to a sideways halt, sending leaves and dirt scattering around us.

His handsome face is full of bruises. A long gash in his shoulder disappears beneath his shirt, which is stuck to him, caked in blood. Thank god, he pants, his eyes wide. No time for greetings. He swings off his motorcycle, grabbing a small box off the back. They have Lozzi. You have to help us. They have her, and— He swallows, gulping air. You have to open this box. They said you have to open it. He thrusts the metal box— not my metal box— into my hands. There's a padlock.

Apollon shows up at my side. A single glance at his face tells me he heard. He's gone pale, his eyes wide with fear.

They have Lozzi. Oh, god. It's my fault.

Who the hell is this? demands Bonzai, joining the crowd along with West, who hushes her with a small motion of his hand.

I look at Nitro's desperate face. My voice is almost gone, but I manage to croak, Do you have a key?

No. He shakes his head emphatically. No. I tried to open it, but I couldn't. You have to open it. Please. Hurry.

I look around for help.

You can't, says West, stepping forward. Anything could be in there. A bomb, or something.

I'll do it, says Apollon, but West is already taking the box from me. Stay put, he commands, then marches off with it, only stopping when he's a good deal away. He draws his pistol and steps back, facing away from us.

My aether tank was on empty, Nitro whispers, only now beginning to catch his breath. I thought I wouldn't catch you.

My fingers tense as West aims his pistol, making me realize I'm gripping Apollon's arm, my nails digging in. He's a step forward, only tethered by my insistent grip.

BAM. The report echoes through the forest, coming back at us to end in silence.

West tucks his pistol into his belt, crouches down, and lifts the lid. I can't see his face. He stands up, takes one step back, and runs his fingers through his blonde hair, stopping halfway through, just frozen like that. At last, he turns and looks at us, his brow furrowed with concern. No. Not at us. At Apollon.

My bloodsworn is running toward him. There's nothing I can do but follow.

We skid to a halt before the box and we stand there. Inside, one bloody finger. A long, slender finger with dark skin.

No, Apollon whispers, crouching before the box like he means to touch it, but he can't. He shakes his head again and again. No.

Suddenly next to me, Nitro belts out a scream of rage and anguish, pacing away, tearing at his hair.

Then Apollon's on his feet, gripping me by the arms, shaking me. We have to help her. We have to help her.

But tears spring to my eyes and roll down my cheeks. My face crumples, even while Apollon is still shaking me. It's all my fault, I blubber. I asked Matt to find her. I— But I can't finish, and I don't need to. Apollon has let go of me, his face going blank and still. He walks away without so much as a word.

I want to run after him, but I can't. West's arm goes around me. It's OK, he whispers, his hand rubbing up and down my arm, his eyes tracking Apollon.

I risk a glance at Nitro, who is too distraught to have caught my confession. Then I look back at West, shaking my head, tears still pouring. It's not. It's not. Oh god. What can we do?

I don't know, he murmurs, pulling me close.

For a moment, I take comfort in his arms. Then I tear away, walking. Walking fast. I don't know where I'm going or what I'm doing. I just need to do something. Right now. There's no time. I stride down the line of our convoy, my mind racing. The answer takes all of two seconds. I head for the aether tanker, picking up my pace.

Duck steps out from the back of the truck, just as I approach. She has a full aether trap in her hand. We freeze, looking at each other.

Half a second later, she moves forward. I got it ready for you, she says, gesturing with the trap. I knew you'd want it.

I take the trap from her, spin, and walk toward the back. Duck jogs to keep up with me. Can I come with you? Maybe I can help.

No. My voice is firm, final, but my glance is full of thankfulness and regret. Stay here. I need you to look after Apollon for me. He's going to be a wreck. Don't let him come after me. Whatever you have to do. Don't let any of them.

She nods, though her eyes are wide and worried.

There's nothing more to say, except… Thank you. We walk in silence the rest of the way.

The back of the convoy is deserted now. Mostly.

Nitro's motorcycle sputters and stalls. Sputters and stalls. As we round the corner, Apollon, sitting astride it, glances up. Don't try to stop me.

I lift the aether trap, the corners of my mouth turning down.

Apollon curses