Skull turned to the door with a nod. “He’s like an evil twin from the future. Creeps me out.”

  Peter chuckled, watching him go.

  A few seconds later, the door flew open and Martin strode in, his heavy coat nearly sweeping the floor. Peter watched him come up close and lean over the table, his hands braced against its smooth top.

  Martin stared him in the eyes. “A little birdie told me you found the Commandos’ base and didn’t even call me. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you’re doing it on purpose, making me come down here. You must be really fond of my company, ain’t you?”

  Peter gave him a long, flat stare. “At last, a chance to confess my true feelings.”

  Martin straightened up with a quiet growl. “Where is it? Don’t play with me, Peter. I’m already pissed off.”

  “Oh, so you were being serious? You really expect me to report to you every time we find something? Well, I’m afraid I’ll have to disappoint—”

  “Don’t,” Martin cut him off. “Don’t lecture me about how this works, the whole alliance thing and my part in it. You can sit here and plan and scheme for another year, but I can’t wait any longer. I gotta find the Commandos now.”

  His frantic look made Peter pause his absent shuffling of papers and lean back, giving Martin his full attention.

  The man was hiding something. He was trying to cover it with anger, but there it was, the despairing look that certainly hadn’t come from losing a couple of men to the Commandos. They had taken something from him, something he didn’t want Peter to find. And it was driving him nuts.

  “Let’s make a deal,” Peter said once he was done studying Martin. “You tell me what the Commandos have done to get under your skin like that, and I tell you where to find them.” He was bluffing, and not doing a very good job at that, but he wasn’t really trying. The reaction he got from Martin, that’s what mattered.

  Irritation flashed in Martin’s eyes, and his scarred lips twisted. He put his hands on his hips and stared Peter down.

  “You know what they did,” he said. “They got my men, and it’s been too damn long for me to wait any longer.”

  “What are their names?” Peter asked, catching the flash of confusion in Martin’s eyes.

  “Who?” he barked, his scowl deepening.

  “The men who were abducted, of course.”

  A moment passed, too long for Peter to believe anything that would come out of Martin’s mouth next, and Martin snorted. “Why do—”

  “Okay, enough,” Peter cut him off, realizing there could be another explanation to Martin’s obnoxious behavior. “I wasn’t going to give you the Commandos’ location, and there’s nothing you can do to change my mind. You’ll just have to wait like everyone else, until we finish our investigation and call a meeting.”

  Martin ground his teeth, the muscles in his jaw working. “Careful now,” he growled. “I haven’t really forgiven you and Michael for stealing my son from me, but I’m giving you a chance to make up for that, which you don’t seem to realize. Just give me the location, and next time you need help, I might just offer it without a question.”

  “Wow.” Peter put on his best judgmental tone. “Marco really doesn’t mean that much to you, if you think it’s that simple, does he?” He watched the fire flare in Martin’s eyes, his stare turning murderous. Peter didn’t care. If he was right about why Martin was so anxious to know what he knew about the Commandos, angering him was essential to the next step in Peter’s new plan.

  You think they could be involved in whatever’s going on? Luke’s voice echoed in his head like it was years ago, not days. He had dismissed the suspicions, but with everything the Commandos knew about the skyfolk, who knew how much of it could’ve been orchestrated?

  He’d be giving away their best lead, but if it meant weeding out a rat in their midst, it was worth it.

  “Besides, it’s not stealing if your son hates you so much that he runs from you with nothing but a few coins in his pockets,” Peter said, adding fuel to the fire. “In fact, you should be grateful we took him in, and he didn’t end up gutted in some alley because he was too drunk to defend himself.”

  Peter dropped his gaze only for a second, pretending to focus on the papers he was stacking, and it was enough.

  In a flash, Martin was before him, lethal as a panther, his fists tight.

  Peter pulled back, holding his gaze. “Do it,” he said with a half-smile. “I’d love nothing more than to lock you in a cell right now. It would give me the chance to deal with all this without having to see your scarred mug every day.”

  Martin let out a shaky breath, visibly struggling to calm himself, but stepped back.

  With one more glance at the stack on the desk—and the corner of the map that peeked from under the top sheet—Peter got up from his chair. Martin was the same height as his son, which meant Peter had a couple of inches on him. He made the most of them, his face a hand’s breadth from Martin’s, something he knew Marco hated, and glowered at the Black Eagle.

  “I will inform you of any updates that I think you should know about,” Peter said. In his pocket, he speed-dialed one of the phones left in his bedroom. “For now, there’s nothing more I can do for you.”

  Their staring contest continued for a few more seconds, until the phone rang in his room.

  “Excuse me,” Peter muttered. His spine tingled as he turned around. He wouldn’t put it past Martin to stab him in the back, at least in his current mood, but the man stayed where he was as Peter slipped through the door and into his living room.

  He shut the door and passed a hand over his face, cursing. He’d had the perfect excuse to be an asshole to the man, but still, it didn’t sit right with him. There had been something in Martin’s eyes, and even though the plan had already been set in motion, Peter wondered if he was wrong about it all. Once again, Luke’s voice sounded in his head—I thought your job was to keep them alive.

  The phone stopped ringing. Peter crossed his arms and turned to look at the small screen mounted on the wall not far from the door. It showed two feeds, one from the camera in the waiting room, and the other from the office. It’s the right thing to do, he told himself as he watched Martin crane his neck forward and peer at the papers on the table. Because even if Peter’s bizarre guess about Martin working with the Commandos was wrong, giving away their biggest lead like that wouldn’t be completely pointless. He glanced at Luke at his desk in the waiting room, wondering what he’d say about this.

  Martin didn’t waste a moment, stepping closer and moving the top sheet aside to see the map. He tilted his head, frowning as his eyes scanned the paper. Quickly, he leafed through the stack and put the papers back in place. Peter just hoped that the man was too angry to stop and think. To realize something that would’ve been obvious to him any other day—that Peter had been at this job for too damn long to be so careless.

  When Peter opened the door, Martin was already gone.

  Chapter 20

  Dave didn’t know how much time had passed and when exactly he had gone from sitting and thinking to sitting and staring at the wall, lost in the nothingness inside him. This blank state of mind was beginning to feel natural, like it was the only state he had ever known, and his old emotions, reactions, and ambitions had been just an illusion. Now, there was only apathy—empty, numb, and all-consuming.

  And that thing. That strange new feeling, quieter now, the only relief in his current condition.

  A knock at the door tore him out of his stupor. “Come in,” he said, kicking his travel bag under the bed. He didn’t feel like unpacking anyway. He didn’t feel like anything.

  “Where’s your friend?” Albert asked from the doorway in his grumpy manner. He was dressed as if he were heading out, wearing a brown leather jacket over a shirt and worn-out jeans.

  Dave cleared his throat. “In the bathroom.”

  Albert nodded, looking over the room. “You mind skipping dinner?”

  “Not at all.” He was relieved, in fact. The mere idea of eating made him nauseous.

  “Grab your jacket, then,” Albert said, waving him forward. “Let’s go for a walk.”

  Dave did as the old man asked, halting only to scribble a quick note on a pad he found on the nightstand: Out w/Albert. Last thing he wanted was for Chad to lose his temper again when he didn’t find Dave anywhere in the house.

  He zoned out the moment they stepped through the front doors. Feeling like no more than a floating head, his limbs distant and strangely light, he followed Albert out of the courtyard. The old man didn’t care to fill the silence between them, and some part of Dave was grateful, so tired of everyone tiptoeing around him. Too much effort was being spent on replying to their constant questions. Questions that required caring about mundane matters that just didn’t exist for him anymore.

  He snapped back to reality at the sound of Albert’s voice. “Hey, I’m talking to you, young man.”

  Dave blinked, seeing that they were up on a hill that overlooked the ocean and a small private beach below. “What?” he asked, dumbfounded. The old man must’ve been talking for a while now.

  “I said, Peter told me what happened over the phone. You don’t have to explain anything.” Albert raised his voice as if Dave had trouble hearing him, which he guessed was somewhat true. “Now, quit staring at me like a wounded puppy and sit down.”

  He plopped right onto the grass, staring up at Dave with irritation. It was a strange place to sit, but Dave didn’t particularly care. He bent to touch the dry grass and sat beside Albert.

  “This is my favorite spot in all of America,” Albert admitted, looking at the ocean. “There’s the sky, the ocean, and not a damn soul nearby. No one here to tell me that I can’t live like a hermit. They all stopped trying a while ago, and I couldn’t be happier for it. You, on the other hand, are too young to have the same privilege, so you’ll just have to deal with it.”

  Dave kept silent. He was soaking up the salty ocean air, the rumbling tide, and distant seagulls’ cries.

  Albert shook his white head. “It’s a mess, what happened to you. The transition is hard enough as it is, but when it’s against your will, and what with your girlfriend and all… I’m sorry it happened to you. But even if you disagree with it at the moment, it is a gift. This power you have now—it’s a responsibility.”

  “I didn’t ask for this responsibility,” Dave snapped, sounding harsher than he meant. But the strange alien presence inside him had chosen that moment to stir, and it made him twitchy.

  Albert gave him a long, narrow-eyed look. “A lot of things happen without our asking. But denial will do you no good. I’m not gonna lecture you, just answer whatever questions you have. But if I can give you just one piece of advice, it’s to give yourself time. Don’t do anything rash or stupid. And, for God’s sake, don’t hurt anyone, or it’ll only get worse.”

  Dave couldn’t hold back a skeptical snort. It couldn’t get any worse than this.

  Albert continued, “We all think we’re on our own in our grief, and no one can really understand our loss. But I lost my girl too, and that’s the only reason I’m telling you this.

  “You and I are different like day and night, born in different centuries and turned in different circumstances. But my Maggie was the best damn thing that ever happened to me, and I bet that’s one thing we have in common.”

  Dave inwardly grunted in agreement.

  “We’d been married for fifty-five years when I lost her. And I thought I wouldn’t be able to go on, but here I am. Wouldn’t want to piss off the gods by taking my own life, and if they haven’t taken me yet, there must still be some good I can do in this world. And you,” the old man said, turning to look Dave in the eyes, “you haven’t even started.”

  He clapped a hand on Dave’s shoulder and got up, working out the kinks in his joints.

  “There’s a lot to talk about, but we’ve got plenty of time.” The old man scratched his head, as if he’d lost his train of thought. “I’ll come by in the morning so we can see what we can do about that power of yours. Shoved it pretty deep down, I see. For now, I’ll keep your friends off your back. Just don’t do anything stupid here on your own. Don’t make me regret bringing you to my favorite spot.”

  The man kept grumbling as he walked away, leaving Dave to stare into the darkness, confused beyond imagination.

  Only when Albert had gone did Dave realize how many questions he had for him. The old man had never said how he’d been turned, and how he and his wife had kept his age a secret all those years, with her aging and him probably looking the same for decades. But most of all, he tried to imagine what it would be like to have fifty-five years with Elena, only to lose her when he still had half a life left to live.

  He turned back to the black expanse of the ocean, his face wet from tears that, for once, were not for him and Elena.

  * * *

  Peter woke up at the sound of his cell phone buzzing on the nightstand.

  With his bedroom pitch-dark, the glowing screen blinded him for a second. Rob. There could only be one reason for him to call this number this late.

  Peter frowned, accepting the call. “Yes?”

  Rob didn’t waste breath on greetings. “Shots fired at the Commandos’ base.”

  Peter’s heart stammered in his chest. It can’t be.

  “Now? Are you sure?” he hissed into the phone.

  “Positive. I just got here and heard it myself. It’s been a few minutes.”

  “What about the camera? Did anyone go in?”

  “No. There must be another way in.”

  Peter swore, pushing the covers back and swinging his legs off the bed.

  He had expected a call tonight. The Commandos leaving the place, or Martin’s men snooping about—that he’d been prepared for. But the Eagles storming the base tonight, without any preparation?

  He looked at the clock—it had only been four hours since Martin left. They’d have needed a couple of hours just to find another way in, however far it was from the base.

  “Peter?” Rob’s voice brought him back. “Should we go in?”

  “No.” Peter cleared his throat. “Keep watching. Pull in as many men as you need to cover the whole area. Send—” He bit off the rest of the sentence, Send a couple men to keep an eye on the Eagles’ base. He couldn’t risk anyone knowing it was them before time. He’d have to do it himself. “Call Rooney. Street cams, drones, he knows the drill.”

  “Roger that.”

  “That’s all for now. Call me if anything changes.”

  Peter hung up, his heart racing. Never in a thousand years would he have imagined Martin rushing into this, with his experience and training.

  “What’s wrong?”

  He stiffened, remembering he wasn’t alone in bed.

  “Nothing,” he murmured as he got up. “Go back to sleep.”

  Peter grabbed his cell phone and clothes, padding out of the room.

  His gear chilled his skin as he slipped into it and strapped his twin blades onto his back. He’d never hear the end of it if he were caught snooping about the Eagles’ base. And if anything happened to Martin, and Marco ever found out Peter had leaked the intel to his father…

  Please don’t let him get killed like the reckless idiot that he is, he prayed, pulling up his mask.

  He climbed out the window, then pressed to the wall and closed it. The frigid air nipped at his skin as he took a moment to recall the perimeter’s layout for the night. Way to feel like a teenager again, Peter, his inner voice mocked him.

  He shook his head and slunk into the shadows.

  Chapter 21

  Pain lay in bed staring at the ceiling.

  She had woken at five and now was having major trouble keeping herself from waking her sister for no other reason than her own boredom.

  She turned to look at Jane—face buried in the pillow, one arm dangling off the bed. Just like when you were eight, Pain thought, grinning. She switched her gaze to the window—gray sky and black palm leaves—and then to the clock on the nightstand. Five-fifteen. The others had stayed up late last night. Jane would kill her. Long shower it is.

  She tiptoed out of the room, past Dave and Chad’s door, and to the guest bathroom at the end of the hallway, where she spent a shameless amount of time scrubbing her body under the hot water. By the time she’d dressed and put on her makeup, it was six-thirty, and the hallway was still silent.

  With one last glance at her sister, Pain slipped out of the room and to the staircase. If she was lucky, she could grab a snack and be out of the kitchen before she ran into Albert.

  She sneaked through the house like a wraith, easily avoiding Martha as the woman moved from room to room, humming to herself and restoring order in the house. She had turned out to be a complete opposite of Albert, with her hearty laughs and smiling eyes. The idea that the gray-haired woman was in fact fifty years younger than Albert couldn’t quite fit into Pain’s head.

  Her eyes still on Martha, she slipped through the kitchen door, turned—and came face to face with Albert.

  She could’ve sworn he hadn’t been there when she checked a second ago.

  “Morning,” she choked out, staring into his icy blue eyes.

  The man hummed in response and lowered himself into a chair, putting a jar of jam on the table before him.

  Pain grimaced as she turned her back on him and headed to the coffee machine. Having breakfast alone with Albert was not what she’d planned. She took a long time making herself a cup of coffee, while the kitchen settled into a deep, uncomfortable silence.

  When she turned around, Albert’s eyes were on her. She tried to ignore his ever-present disapproving frown as she brought her cup to the table and started making a sandwich for herself.

  The old man broke the silence. “I’m taking Dave for a walk today.” The words were innocent enough, but his voice held a barely hidden warning. “Martha will have a basket prepared for the rest of you. Go have a picnic at the beach or something. Don’t bother him, and don’t try to follow us.”