I jerked my hands up. Pale glitter swirling through my arms and fingers. This dust, this thing was inside me too, and I couldn’t identify it.

  We were both infected, and it was killing us.

  Panic drenched me in icy sweat. I wanted to rip a hole in my legs and just force the glitter out.

  Bear whined softly like a puppy.

  I was losing her. She trusted me, she followed me, and she fought with me, and now she was dying.

  “You can’t die, Bear. Hold on. Please hold on for me.”

  Bear licked my hand.

  The urge to scream my head off gripped me. Wailing wouldn’t help. If only I could identify the poison.

  Why couldn’t I identify it? Was it because it was inside us and it had become part of us? Or was I just not strong enough to differentiate it from our blood? It had started in the lungs, so we must have inhaled it.

  I took a deep breath and exhaled on my hands.

  There it was! A trace of the lethal glitter. I focused on it. The four-lobed spiked clumps, swirling, swirling… Something inside me connected, and I saw a faint image in my mind. The mauve flowers. We had been poisoned by their pollen.

  I flexed harder, stabbing at the pollen with my talent. The tiny flecks opened up into a layered picture in my mind, and the top layer showed how toxic it was...

  Oh god.

  We were almost out of time. We needed an antidote. Now.

  I strained, trying to access whatever power lay inside me, the same one that showed me the Grasping Hand and gave me the stalkers’ name. It didn’t answer.

  Please. Please help me.

  Nothing.

  We would die right here, in this tunnel. I knew it, I could picture it, me wrapped around Bear, hugging her as we both grew cold…

  No. There had to be an answer. We hadn’t come all this way to lay down and die. We did not kill and fight all these damn stalkers –

  The stalkers. The stalkers went to the lake to drink. The flowers were all over the shore, but the stalkers had died because the lake dragon had torn them apart. The flowers didn’t poison them.

  I jumped to my feet and ran to the nearest corpse. My talent reached out and grasped the body. There was pollen on the fur and on the muzzle and a faint smudge in the lungs, but none anywhere else. Not a trace in the blood. They were immune.

  The poison had to be eliminated in the bloodstream. If it was purged in the liver or any other organ, there would’ve been traces of it in the blood vessels but there were none.

  This wouldn’t help us any. Just because the stalkers had the immunity…

  I flexed again. Within the stalker, the heart glowed with bright red. My talent flagged something as red based on how much I wanted it. I valued adamantite more than gold, so in my mind gold flared with pink but adamantite was a dark saturated red. The stalker heart was so red, it was dripping with crimson glow.

  I flipped the stalker on its back, shaped my sword into a knife, and stabbed the corpse, slicing it from the neck to the groin. Bloody wet innards spilled out. I dug in the mush, pushing slippery tissue aside until I found the hard sack of the heart. I carved it out and pulled the bloody organ free.

  Flex.

  The heart turned crimson. I smashed my talent against the top layer of the glow, trying to splinter it into layers, and it obeyed. I punched through the top red layer and saw the second, neon blue.

  Toxic. It would poison us, too.

  The red was stronger than the blue. That meant there was a slim chance we could make it. It was the difference of might-be-dead from the stalker heart or definitely-dead from the pollen. We didn’t have hours, we had minutes. The heart had to be the answer.

  This was not how the immunity worked. This wasn’t how biology worked.

  I blinked my enhanced vision off, shut my eyes for a long second, opened them, and flexed again.

  The heart was still bright red. My talent was telling me it was our way out. I had nothing to lose.

  I put it on a flat rock and minced the tough muscle into near mush. I scooped a handful of the bloody mess and staggered over to Bear.

  She was still breathing. There was still a chance.

  I pried her jaws open and shoved a clump of the stalker mince into her throat. She gulped and gagged. I held her mouth closed.

  “Swallow, please swallow…”

  Bear gulped again. Yes. It went down.

  “What a good girl. The best girl. One more time. Let’s get a little more in there.”

  I forced two more handfuls into her and flexed. The concentration of pollen in her stomach dimmed. Somehow it was acting as an antidote. I didn’t understand how. It didn’t matter. We were all out of choices.

  Bear let out a soft, weak howl, almost a gasp. It must have hurt.

  “I’m so sorry. I wouldn’t hurt you if there was any other way.”

  If I ate the heart now, there was no telling what it would do to me. I could pass out right here, and we would both become stalker dinner.

  About twenty minutes ago we had walked by a narrow stone bridge that spanned a deep cavern. There had been a depression at the other end, a smaller cave within the wall of a larger cave. At the time I thought it would be a good place to rest, because the stalkers could only come at us one by one, but I wanted to get out of the tunnels, and it seemed better to just keep moving. We had to find a place to hide, and that was the closest safe spot I could think.

  I should be able to find the bridge again. I just had to follow the trail of bodies and make it there before the poison got me.

  I picked Bear up. She felt so heavy, impossibly heavy.

  I spun around and trudged back the way we came.

  6

  The guild SUV came to a quiet stop in front of a two-story house. Elias didn’t know much about architecture, but he’d spent enough time in Chicago to recognize the style. It was a remodeled Chicago bungalow. Brenda’s parents lived in one, and Brenda and he had looked into buying one before…

  A cold hand reached into his chest. He held still for a moment, waiting for the feeling to pass. He had no idea if his former in-laws were still alive. For the first year after the funerals, he’d tried to call once a month, until his father-in-law finally asked him to stop. He said it was too painful.

  Elias studied the house, trying to anchor himself to the present. The original bungalows were on the smaller side, with a footprint around eight hundred square feet, a full basement, and an attic space on top. They were iconic to Chicago. People often expanded them with second story additions, and some of the popped-top bungalows looked disjointed as if a tornado had picked up half of a completely different home and deposited it atop the original brick or stucco frame.

  This one didn’t. Whoever remodeled it set the addition back, away from the street, leaving the original façade intact. The house was brick, with the original front room, a trademark row of large windows, and a small porch under the gabled roof with stairs leading to the street level. The second story matched the first – same gently sloping roof, same dormered windows and matching shingles. A garden bed ran along the front wall, offering lavender and white flowers. More flowers bloomed in the box by the windows. To the left, some sort of small decorative tree spread branches with dark red leaves. Adaline Moore loved her house.

  Had. Had loved.

  “I still don’t think this is wise,” Leo said from the driver seat.

  Twenty-eight people died in the breach. Fourteen members of the assault crew, nine miners, four escorts, and Adaline Moore. Twelve of the deceased left behind minor children. Of all of them, only Adaline Moore’s kids had no immediate family to take care of them.

  The media devoured any news related to the guilds and gates, and the death of a prominent DeBRA would set off fireworks. At some point the DDC would issue a press release announcing it. Once that news broke, the rival guilds would go into a feeding frenzy of outrage, and Adaline’s children would become the center of a news cycle. They would be overwhelmed, used, wrung dry for the sake of a cheap emotional punch, and then abandoned to their grief. If they were lucky, the country would forget they existed. If they were unlucky, someone would take note of two vulnerable orphans with a million-dollar life insurance payout. He had seen this tragedy play out before.

  “I won’t allow Adaline’s children to be fed to the media circus,” Elias said. “They are safer at the Guild HQ. I don’t need some asshole showing up at their door, sticking a microphone into their faces, and asking how they feel about their mother dying.”

  “Adaline Moore would have made provisions,” Leo said.

  “I’m sure she did. Until we know what they are, we will take care of the kids.”

  “This will be seen as Cold Chaos controlling access to the children because we have something to hide. We are trying to minimize the media’s attention. They love conspiracies, and other guilds will spin it in the worst way possible. I worry this will have a Streisand effect. Instead of keeping the story small, we will only make it bigger.”

  “That’s fine. If they want to paint us as villains, let them. We will survive. We are the third largest guild in the country.”

  Leo sighed quietly.

  “I called Felicia,” Elias told him.

  Felicia Terrell was a powerhouse attorney, and she specialized in guild-related litigation. He spoke to her as soon as he got off the plane. She called him a marshmallow and promised to show up first thing in the morning. The children would be well protected from everyone, including Cold Chaos.

  “Still…”

  “Leo. This is the least we can do.”

  Leo sighed again.

  Elias opened the door and stepped out. The narrow walkway leading to the steps needed to be pressure-washed. He walked up the steps and knocked on the door.

  The Ring camera came to life. Elias looked into it. “Hello, I’m…”

  The door swung open, revealing a boy. He was about twelve, thin, with glasses and short light brown hair. “Elias McFeron,” the boy said. “From the commercials.”

  “Yes,” Elias said.

  Behind the boy, a teenage girl stepped out into the open. She looked like a younger version of Adaline: same large eyes, same auburn hair, same wary look. He never met Adaline Moore, but he had seen a couple of interviews and photographs. Adaline didn’t just look at people. She watched them, actively observing, and her daughter was doing that exact thing to him now. He felt himself being evaluated.

  “Something happened to mom,” the girl said.

  “Yes. May we come in?”

  The boy glanced at his sister.

  “Yes,” she said.

  Elias walked into the house. Behind him Leo entered and shut the door.

  The inside of the home was clean and neat. Dark wood floors, cream walls, a lot of the wainscotting that seemed to match the outside of the house. A staircase to the left, a living room to the right, light green couches with notebooks and art supplies strewn on the coffee table, a white kitchen past it… It felt like a home, warm and lived in. He had that once.

  The two kids were looking at him, their faces tense.

  “I’m the guildmaster of Cold Chaos,” Elias said. “Your mother was working on the mining site in the gate we are responsible for. The miners were attacked.”

  “Is she dead?” the girl asked.

  “Officially, she is missing. However, your mother is a noncombat Talent. She doesn’t have any means to defend herself. Only four of our mining team escaped, so the outcome isn’t looking good. We won’t know what happened for sure until we go back in and eliminate those threats.”

  “So Mom could still be alive?” the boy asked.

  “Yes. There is a slight chance that she might have survived. Nothing is certain until we find the bodies.”

  “When?” the girl asked.

  “As soon as we can pull an assault team together. We will need top-tier people for this breach.”

  “How long will it take?” the boy asked.

  “Several days. Probably at least three. Maybe longer. We have to go in with the kind of team that will win.” Elias paused. “I’m inviting you to stay at our HQ until this is over.”

  “You don’t want us talking to the press people,” the girl said.

  “It doesn’t really matter if you talk to the press or not,” Leo said. “We will get skewered anyway.”

  “I’m not going to pressure you to do anything,” Elias said. “But if you wanted to stay at our HQ, away from everyone, so you can deal with things, you have that option. I’ve called a lawyer on your behalf. Whether you come with us or not, she will come to speak with you in the morning. She doesn’t work for the guild. She works for you.”

  “And if we don’t want your lawyer?” the girl asked.

  “Then you tell her no and she’ll leave.”

  “Why are you doing this?” the boy asked.

  “Because your mother trusted us to keep her safe, and we failed her,” Elias said.

  The boy looked at his sister.

  “He is not a threat.” She said it with absolute certainty.

  “What about him?” the boy looked at Leo.

  “Not a threat either. Although he really doesn’t think any of this is a good idea.”

  Leo blinked.

  Adaline’s daughter looked at Elias, and there was pressure in her gaze. “My name is Tia. This is Noah. We’re coming with you, but we have to bring Mellow.”

  “Who is Mellow?”

  Noah reached over to the couch, moved a blanket aside, and picked up a large cream-colored cat. The cat looked at Elias and hissed.

  “Don’t be a drama queen,” Tia told it.

  “Mellow is welcome to come,” Elias said.

  “Good.” Tia nodded to her brother. “Go pack.”

  He put the cat down and ran up the stairs.

  “You’re a Talent,” Elias guessed.

  “Yes,” she said.

  “An assessor?” Leo asked.

  “Sort of. Like Mom but with people.”

  What kind of power was that? “Does your mother know?”

  Tia shook her head. “You have to promise me that you’ll bring her back.”

  “I can’t do that,” Elias said. “I’m not going to lie to you. Your mother is probably gone.”

  “My mom is alive,” Tia said. “She promised she would come back to us. She always keeps her promises.”

  He didn’t know what to say to that.

  Tia pivoted to the bookcase and pulled a large black folder with a zipper on it.

  “I’m going to get a cat carrier and my things,” she said and handed the folder to him.

  “What is this?” he asked.

  A tiny shiver of fear flashed in Tia’s eyes. He watched her squash it.

  “Mom’s death folder. There is one on her laptop, too. I’ll need to grab that. We won’t need it, but she would want us to bring it.”

  Tia disappeared into the house.

  “Are they in shock?” Leo murmured.

  “No,” Elias said. “They are just ready.”

  Adaline Moore had trained her children what to do in case of her death. They were so efficient at it, they must’ve practiced.

  This was the war at home, he realized. Ten years of it. He was looking at children who grew up with the gates. Tia would’ve been five, maybe six, when the first gates burst. The boy would’ve been a toddler. They were prepared to lose their mother. They lived with that possibility every day, and now they were putting on brave faces and trying to stick to the plan.

  He had to get into that damn breach.

  The stone bridge stretched in front of me. It was only twenty-seven yards long, but it felt like a mile. I shuffled across it, one foot in front of the other, my body weak and exhausted, and poor Bear heavy like an anvil in my arms. She was still breathing. I felt her every ragged breath. She was shivering and sometimes she would yelp, but she was still alive.

  Almost there.

  One step at a time. Almost made it.

  Just a little further.

  The little cave gaped in front of us. It was a nearly circular depression in the rock, about thirty feet across, its walls smooth, its floor empty.

  I tried to set Bear down, but my legs gave out, and we both collapsed. I pulled myself upright and unhooked Bear’s leash from around my neck. Three stalker hearts tumbled to the ground. I had cut them out along the way, strung them onto the leash like fish, and then I put that grisly necklace around my neck. It was the only way I could carry it.

  I chopped one heart into small pieces. My hands felt so heavy and clumsy. I scooped a handful of stalker stew meat and shoved it in my mouth.

  It burned like battery acid.

  I swallowed. Fire sliding down my throat. I chopped the meat smaller. The last thing I needed was to die choking on stalker’s heart.

  The pieces of raw flesh landed in my stomach like rocks. My hands trembled. I retched and forced it back down.

  I’d managed to down one and a half hearts before the shivers came. Cold clutched at me. My teeth chattered, my knees shook, and I could not get warm. I slumped against the cave wall, shuddering. Bear trembled, turned, and crawled to me.

  Tears wet my eyes.

  Bear slumped against me and rested her head on my thigh. I petted her. We shivered together. Time stretched, each moment sticky and viscous.

  The shivers attacked in waves now. They washed over me, broke into stabbing pains, faded, and came again.

  I had to stay awake. Something told me that to sleep was to die.

  I shook Bear. She looked at me with her warm eyes.

  I forced my quivering lips to move. “You have to stay awake.”

  The shepherd looked at me.

  “Stay with me. I’ll tell you a story. You were born into this new age. Your parents were probably born into it as well. You don’t know, but it didn’t use to be like this. It used to be… nice.”

  I stroked her fur with trembling fingers.

  “I remember when the first gates opened. The government called them anomalies back then. One of them was right downtown. The military cordoned it off. Shut down half of the business district.

  “At first, everyone was alarmed. There was news coverage, and theories, and the markets crashed. But the gate just sat there, not doing anything. Roger and I drove by to look at it. It was huge. This high-rise-sized, massive hole in the middle of the city, swirling with orange sparks, strange roots and branches twisting along its boundary, just out of reach. I remember feeling this overwhelming anxiety. Like looking at the tornado coming your way and not being able to do anything about it.