“Is there a point here?” Ying Yue says. “We’re short on time as it is. Maybe you haven’t heard. One of our own is in the hands of your rabid dog right now.”

  Fall nods. “Which is why I’m here today. I know where Whiteface is holding him.”

  I leap to my feet. “He’s alive?” All day, I’ve grappled with the idea that I somehow killed him, that I let my weakness grow to the point where I became worse than useless.

  Cain nods once. “He’s alive, so let’s do what we do. The House of David never abandons its own.”

  * * *

  Lyon, France—Mission: Bring Orion Home

  In a derelict winery, about twenty-five miles outside Lyon, Whiteface is holding Orion with thirteen hostages. Fall warned us that Whiteface always travels with a small army. We should take the time to do this right, but we don’t have that luxury.

  There are four Judges among us: me, Ying Yue, Sarah, and Aiden. Ying Yue wasn’t originally slated for this mission, but she insisted on coming along. “He’s my student,” she said. “I get attached to my students.”

  My heart sank when I learned Whiteface managed to get hold of another of Orion’s friends. I can only imagine what that monster intends to do with him. What I still don’t understand is why Orion’s friends are targets at all. Is Seditio doing this to get to me? Do they know Orion is my brother?

  Sarah may say it isn’t my fault, but I’m not sure I believe her. I’m the House of David’s agent of death, one of its most efficient killers. I’ve personally reduced Seditio’s numbers by a noticeable percentage. But if they wanted to hurt me so badly, why didn’t they go after Sarah or Aiden? It’s no secret who’s important to me; any mole in the House could easily figure that out. Why are my people left untouched while Orion’s are targeted? And how did Seditio discover the Bachmans’ presence in Paris so quickly?

  We don’t know nearly enough about the winery we’re headed to. Apparently, it’s 43,000 square feet with only one entrance at the front and one at the back. Although we have the layout of the inside, intel can’t be trusted because we don’t know if Whiteface modified it. No one else has been in the building for years.

  We arrive at the scene in a convoy of armored Mercedes G-Wagons and a couple Panhard VBLs which the French army loaned to us along with a small company of soldiers. We don’t have time for stealth. This must be an offensive, and it’s going to have to be big and loud. Regardless of the outcome, we’re sending a message to Seditio. This is the level of retaliation they can expect when they take one of our own.

  Our orders are simple: leave no survivors.

  Cain will direct us from a safe distance through House-provided headsets. Because we weren’t able to do the kind of recon we normally do, we’re likely to run into unexpected obstacles. Strict coordination is a must.

  The sky is gray and overcast. The surrounding brush is bare and brown. Everything here looks dead. At 1800 hours, we step out of our vehicles. The single-story brick building appears empty. There’s no evidence of a small army here, but we know better than to trust our own eyes. If Seditio is good at anything, it’s hiding.

  Cain’s voice crackles in our ears. “We’re clear outside. Our drone found nothing out of the ordinary. Sarah and Ying Yue take the back entrance. Eden and Aiden, I want you to take the front. Don’t let any of them get away. We’re through playing games with Seditio. Let them see we mean business this time. I want them to think twice before they ever send someone like Whiteface after our people again.”

  We each nod, knowing Cain is watching, and we make our approach.

  Again, Cain speaks. “Aiden, grenade. Let’s go.”

  Aiden acts without hesitation. He breaks a window, pulls the pin from a grenade, and tosses it in. We wait for the explosion, unconcerned about shrapnel. We are Judges, after all. We are killing machines. That’s the whole point of us. Except… I would have hesitated to throw that grenade. Something’s not right, and maybe that something is me. Have I become so weak? But my gut is screaming at me to pay attention.

  After the explosion, there’s chaos in the building. Apparently, it wasn’t as empty as it seemed. I see men inside, and when the smoke finally clears, I notice they’re all wearing masks. No sign of Whiteface or Orion. Come to think of it, why would Cain have Aiden throw a grenade before we knew who was in the room? He must know more than we do. That’s why it’s best to follow orders and not ask questions.

  In a gesture that’s become second nature to me, I unsheathe and extend True Winter. “No survivors,” I mutter.

  Aiden echoes my gesture with Sweet Fall. “No survivors,” he says with a nod. Despite its mild name, his weapon is a beast to be reckoned with—a rare double-ended Chinese spear with horsehair tassels and a carbon fiber handle. He kicks open the door and barges into the smoke, spinning Sweet Fall so quickly, I can’t even see it anymore. The red tassels look like flames orbiting his body. No one can get close to him.

  The men in masks don’t have time to tend to their injured. They pull out their pistols and fire at us. But four of us are Judges wearing STF vests and ballistic leggings. When combined with the Finger of God, these precautions make us almost impossible to kill.

  Across the room, Ying Yue slashes through masked men with her khopesh—an Egyptian sickle sword with a white scabbard. Her weapon is called Dark Summer and corresponds to Archangel Michael. She uses it masterfully. She follows each slash with a lightning-fast pivot to employ the hook end. She catches her enemy’s weapon on the retreat or tears through their flesh like its cheap fabric.

  To us, Seditio’s guns mean less than nothing. After this, if any of them survive, they won’t dare battle with us again. That’s the point of Series Four weapons. We mean to make our enemies tremble. We are the representation of divine justice.

  The only Judge present who doesn’t have a Series Four weapon is Sarah, but she’s no one to trifle with either. She fires repeatedly into the fray, low and level, and she isn’t afraid to graze one of her own to down an enemy quicker. She crouches at the back door and sweeps the room with bullets, killing as many if not more than those of us who fight at close range.

  My own fighting style is slower. My weapon is better for execution than combat, but its presence commands respect. I cut through the legs of my enemies like they’re stalks of tall grass. After each one falls, I sever the blossom from the stem. The only trouble is the blossoms keep flickering in and out of view. I’m not as steady as I used to be, my grip not as firm. I can’t stop my hands from shaking.

  In my ear, Cain’s voice squawks, “Eden, how many dead?”

  He wants me to stop and count? Jesus. Fine. I step back and observe the carnage. “It’s dark in here.”

  “Just count them.”

  Aiden flips a switch in the corner, and the lights flicker to life. The room is cavernous and full of blood. I’m grateful for the grip on my boots. As usual, Aiden doesn’t seem bothered, and Sarah has already left to search the building. Ying Yue brings the back of her wrist to her mouth and curses. The carnage is not pretty; I’ll give her that. Even I want to close my eyes to it. But I can’t, can I? I have to count.

  “Thirteen,” I say at last.

  “Are you sure?” Cain asks in my ear.

  I count again. “Yes, but there has to be more. There’s no way this was so easy.”

  “Eden!” Sarah’s voice echoes through the chamber from another room. “He’s not here!”

  “What?”

  “I said he’s not here. There’s no one else in the building.”

  I follow the sound of her voice down a long, wood-paneled hallway. Every room in the winery is empty, quiet as a tomb but without the corpses. “Is this a joke?” I say into my headset. “Cain! Where are the hostages?”

  The only response is static.

  “What the hell?” Sarah mutters when I finally find her standing in the middle of the last room. “This doesn’t make sense. Cain wouldn’t send us here on bad intel, would he?” She turns to me, and a spark of fear flickers in her eyes. “Would he?”

  We return to the main room. The silence is so dense, I swear I can hear the blood dripping off the tassels of Aiden’s spear. The French troops are still outside, lined up with their weapons aimed at the building. “What the fuck is going on here?” I ask no one in particular. But someone answers.

  “Well, well. Four Judges in one place. Aren’t I the lucky girl?” A weary, feminine voice with a French accent rings in our headsets.

  “Who the hell are you?” I ask, but I think I already know.

  Ying Yue starts ripping masks off the men we killed. Every one of them is gagged. “These are the hostages!” she shouts. “Eden, we killed the hostages! Where the fuck is Cain?”

  “They were shooting at us,” Aiden says. “What else were we supposed to do?”

  “Anything else,” Sarah murmurs. The look on her face is pure defeat. “Orion would have done it differently.”

  “He wouldn’t have known what to do either,” I say, although I know she’s right. Orion would have avoided killing a single person if he could help it. Orion stops to think, and we don’t. We only follow orders. Someone out there knew that and set this up to teach us a lesson. “This was a trap.”

  The voice in my headset laughs. “Yes, my loves, it was a trap. You’re sharp when you want to be. Too bad you didn’t realize sooner.”

  “How can our intel have been this bad?” I ask Sarah. “How did no one verify it?”

  The woman in my headset answers. “Perhaps not everyone in your organization cares as much as you. Or perhaps you have a traitor or two?”

  “It was that Fall person!” Ying Yue shouts. “Where the fuck is he? He’ll pay for this! Why did Cain ever trust a freak from Seditio?”

  That’s right. Cain. “Where is Cain?” I ask the woman in my headset. “What did you do to him?”

  The voice sighs. “Not a thing, unfortunately. He’s safely tucked away in your secret tree-fort. Your frequency is just remarkably easy to highjack.” She laughs again. “There’s a metaphor in there somewhere, don’t you think?”

  “Eden,” Sarah murmurs and points out the window. “Look.”

  Outside, the figure of a woman sits on top of one armored G-Wagon. She’s wearing a black leather jumpsuit and a black helmet that completely covers her face. A long black braid falls over one shoulder, and her frame is deceptively small. The crotch rocket she rode in on is parked beside the G-Wagon. She lifts a hand in greeting when she notices I’ve seen her, and she slides off the roof and into the driver’s seat. “Poor things,” she mutters into all our ears. “I hate traitors too.” Then she starts the engine and says, “Pleased to meet you all finally. My name is Mary Denau. You’re welcome to call me Mary. I expect all of us are going to have a deeply intimate relationship very soon.”

  Suddenly, the engine revs and the tires spin, kicking up mud in two arcs behind them. If anyone is in that vehicle with Mary, there’s no chance they’re still alive. She guns it and drives right through the French troops, knocking them down like bowling pins. When they run, she gives chase. She hits them with the grill, and they’re pulled under, screaming. Those who are still standing shoot at her, but it’s fruitless. The G-Wagon’s windows are bulletproof.

  “What do you think, Grim Reaper?” She laughs in my ear. “Are these deaths to your taste? Maybe they’re too haphazard for you. Let’s try it with a little more purpose, shall we?” She turns the wagon around and runs down a soldier who has just begun to flee. “Ten points.” Then another. “Twenty. What’s the score to beat, Eden? You tell me.”

  She rolls down her window and begins shooting at any fallen soldiers stupid enough to move. When she’s satisfied she’s killed them all, she stops and surveys her battlefield. Dead men are scattered like toys around her playground. “Such a mess,” she murmurs. “Well, if you want to make an omelet…”

  Sarah, Aiden, and I are stunned speechless. The new leader of Seditio is even more unhinged than Whiteface. No wonder Drone and Fall defected. Then again, did they? Why did Fall bring us here? Who is he really working for?

  Ying Yue is the first to speak. “What a waste. You didn’t need to kill them. You’ve already got us in your trap.” She offers a sarcastic slow clap. “Congratulations. Now the French government will hate Seditio as much as we do.”

  Mary sighs deeply. “First, this wasn’t my trap. I just happened to crash the party. Second, the French government has never been a friend of mine.” She pauses for several seconds, and I can’t help thinking she sounds a bit… hurt. “Well,” she says, perking up again, “these guys were probably traitors anyway. Never trust the men they give you. That’s free advice from me. It’s never their best men. More likely, you were given command of a bunch of liabilities, and the government is happy to be rid of them. Oh! Speaking of traitors, I killed yours for you. What was his name? Fall something? He was working both sides, the little shit. So, you’re welcome for that. Now I need you to return the favor.”

  “What do you mean?” I ask.

  “Think of it as a little gift from me to christen our new relationship. I slipped the address of Whiteface’s hideout into the pocket of one of his hostages.” She can’t seem to help a chuckle. “You people killed them all so quickly. I thought you’d need a little more provocation, but no. All they had to do to get in your crosshairs was wear masks. You didn’t even check to see who was behind them. Well, you’ll have to check now. The address is in the pocket of a man with a scar over his left eye. He told me he got that scar playing hockey as a kid. Cute detail, right? And now, he’s dead. You’re a bloodthirsty lot, aren’t you?”

  “You did this,” I growl at her, “not us. You’re responsible for this.”

  “Ah-ah-ah,” she scolds. “Take responsibility for your mistakes. Isn’t that one of the first lessons they teach you in primary school? I may have killed the soldiers, but the hostages? That was all you. You’re talented killers, all of you. Credit where it’s due. That’s why I want you to dispose of my little problem for me. Accept my gift and kill Whiteface. Tie up my loose end, and I’ll consider your debt paid in full.”

  Ying Yue gives her our answer. “Fuck you!”

  That’s when I notice the figure behind her.

  The world moves in slow motion. Still, somehow, I’m not fast enough. A blade comes down on Ying Yue’s shoulder. A hand grabs her arm, and a man’s voice screams in agonized determination behind her. She doesn’t make a sound. Her eyes widen as her arm is severed from her body, cut by a blade almost as sharp as my own, twisted and torn by a man twice her size.

  I run for Ying Yue as Sarah shoots the attacker through his neck. The bullet ricocheting off the concrete echoes in my ears. Ying Yue falls back with her attacker. I rip his mask off and tear his gag away. His face is painted with his own tears. “She was going to kill my kids,” he wheezes. “Please… She was going to kill my kids.” There’s nothing I can say to him. I hate him, but I can’t kill him. All I can do is hate him.

  I pull Ying Yue into my arms. The Finger of God has been severed from her. As soon as I realize it, the armored G-Wagon comes crashing through the wall. Mary leaps out with her gun pointed at my head. “If you don’t accept my gift, what’s the point of letting you live?” she says, still wearing her dark protective helmet and God knows what other armor under her suit. Her voice is far too casual for the occasion, her accent only enhancing the effect.

  Aiden approaches with long strides, holding a bloody piece of paper with thick, dark penmanship on it. While the rest of us were distracted, he was searching for the address among the dead.

  “Good boy.” Mary nods. “Now say your goodbyes and leave.”

  Ying Yue’s breath is ragged now. My gut clenches at the warm sensation of her blood soaking into my clothes. She opens her mouth and struggles to speak. “Eden… what kind of… flower… am I?”

  She knows she’s dying. I can’t see through my tears. How many times have I watched my colleagues die without shedding a tear? Too many, I suppose. “An iris,” I say, but it’s a lie. I see no flower in my arms. It’s just Ying Yue growing paler with every ounce of blood she loses. There’s not even the flicker of an iris superimposed over her. I’ve been abandoned by my own delusion, and this sanity is hell.

  I rise, still holding Ying Yue in my arms. The sight of her red leather jacket torn and darkening at the shoulder will haunt my dreams. Aiden crouches to pick up her severed arm, but Mary shouts, “Leave that! She doesn’t need it anymore.” When Aiden stands again, she says, “Now, au revoir, my loves. See you on the flip side, as they say in America.” We hesitate, and she grows impatient. “Walk away, or I’ll kill the big one. Please, give me an excuse to kill the big one. I hate his stupid face. I want to put a hole in it.”

  Sarah steers me out the front door to a second G-Wagon. With a funeral air, Aiden takes Ying Yue’s body from me and climbs into the back seat. Sarah and I sit up front.

  In my earpiece, I hear Cain frantically trying to reach us. Apparently, Mary has handed our frequency back to him. I tell him, “Orion wasn’t there. We walked into a trap. Your defector was a double agent, and Ying Yue is dead. Oh, and we lost one fragment of the Finger of God.” I’m sure he can hear the chill in my tone. Right now, I despise him for his carelessness, and I want him to know it. I remove my earpiece before he can respond. Sarah and Aiden follow suit.

  I add the address from the bloody paper into my private GPS and immediately head in the direction it indicates. Sarah clenches her jaw for a moment and then says, “Eden, why didn’t you tell Cain where we were going?”

  “Because I don’t trust anyone right now, especially not him.”

  She bows her head. “I just don’t know how this could have happened.”