“Good thing I don’t weigh as much as you then, eh?” Eden says like it’s a lighthearted joke, but the flicker of hatred in his eyes doesn’t escape my notice. The cracks in the House are beginning to show.

  Cain ignores the insult, clears his throat, and turns on a large flatscreen at the head of the table. “This mission is probably the most important the House of David has ever undertaken. We have reliable intel regarding the source of a modern variant of the deadly microorganisms found in artifacts like the Chains of Peter. These new ‘sinners’ are identical to those responsible for the Denau family murders.” With his own tablet mirrored to the display, he brings up the image of an old Paris news article. “Recently, we learned the Denaus’ surviving daughter has risen to a position of power within Seditio. We do not feel this is a coincidence.”

  He swipes to another photo. It’s a disturbing image—a sea of dead bodies sprawled across a lawn before a stage of some kind. As soon as it comes up, Eden recoils. Cain continues his speech. “These sinners also played a major role in a disastrous mission we had many years ago in Dublin, California. If you’re curious, feel free to question our own Eden Dowler, who cut his teeth on it.”

  Eden looks like he’s going to throw up. I get the impression he would not welcome questions at all.

  Cain doesn’t appear to care. “We believe the source of this new variant is still in Dublin. I’ve chosen you four—Judge Eden Dowler, Judge Abigail Ramirez, Acolyte Joshua Honore, and Acolyte Orion Bachman—for this mission because you’re the most familiar with the area, the microorganisms, and their history. Bachman is the exception here, but his work lately has been exemplary, and I have no doubt about his ability to adapt in trying situations. You are, unfortunately, likely to run into trouble this time around. With a Denau being the new leader of Seditio, I wouldn’t bet against their heavy involvement in anything relating to these microorganisms from here on out.”

  He changes the screen to a picture of something I don’t recognize. “This is a magnified image of the organisms in question,” he says. “I thought you’d like to see them. Ramirez worked tirelessly to capture these images, so show her your appreciation when you get a chance.” He picks up an armload of files and starts passing them out. “Your briefs are in the folders. Our goal is to contain the sinners for good. Show no mercy. This is too important to half-ass. Seditio should not have access to a source. It’s far too powerful to be in the hands of terrorists. Any further questions should be put to me within the next twenty-four hours. You leave tomorrow morning.”

  After the briefing, I follow Eden out of the room. “I have questions,” I say. He turns, and the pallor in his face is shocking. “What happened in Dublin?”

  He grits his teeth and sways on the spot. “Cain is trying to get me killed,” he mutters.

  “Or me.” I shrug. He doesn’t correct me. “At least tell me what I’m walking into so I stand the best chance.”

  “I need a drink.” He gestures for me to follow him.

  In the cafeteria, Eden pours himself a couple shots of whisky and swallows it like it’s medicine. Begrudgingly, I pour myself a glass too. It’s time to stop being childish. “I apologize for my behavior lately.”

  His eyes snap up and widen. “Really?”

  “Yeah, I’ve been an idiot. You were probably right that I needed to take some time, but it doesn’t look like that’s going to happen. I think we should put our differences aside so we come at this with a strong foundation. Don’t you agree?”

  He nods and pours himself another glass. “Securing the Blood of Mary in Dublin was my first mission,” he says under his breath. “I already told you about most of it, but…” He gulps and swallows another shot of whisky. “I had to kill a boy in the cult. He was already dying, but it was my first kill. I was thirteen. It cut me deep, that kill. I’ve never fully recovered. That was the day I became Cain’s Grim Reaper.”

  I reach across the table and squeeze his hand once because he looks like he’s about to break down. I’ve never seen him so weak, but I can’t let my disgust show. Now’s the time to build trust. “Hey, maybe I’ll take the Grim Reaper position from you,” I say. “You can retire and put up your feet like the lazy old man you are.” I think a little ribbing might lighten the mood, but it doesn’t.

  Eden grips his glass so tightly, I’m surprised it doesn’t break in his hand. “Trust me, Rion. You don’t want it.”

  * * *

  Dublin, California—Mission: Secure the Source

  On our flight to California, Eden hands out envelopes with further instructions. “We’ll land twenty minutes south of Dublin,” he says. “It’s a short ride from there to the location, a mansion purchased some years back by a local physician who happens to be a senior member of Seditio in his spare time. Interesting hobby…” He clears his throat and shakes his head. “Anyway, the building is three stories, including a basement. I suggest we each take a floor so any individuals who happen to be inside have less time to call for help. Orion should head upstairs.” Already, Eden’s trying to coddle me, sending me as far from the basement as I could get. “Abigail can take the main floor, and I’ll deal with the basement. Joshua will be our lookout on the outside. Hopefully, this’ll be a straightforward search and recover, but the way things have been going over the last year, there’s every chance we’re walking into a trap.”

  “And if we are?” Abigail asks.

  “If we are, we fall back to our usual positions. Orion will take cover behind me, and Joshua will take cover behind Abigail. Cain seems convinced there won’t be trouble. Otherwise, he would not have sent only two Judges, two Acolytes, and no soldiers. We can only hope he’s right. Unfortunately, my faith in the man is not what it used to be. You may feel differently.”

  Abigail shrugs in a subtle refusal to respond, and I’m sure we all know what that means. She clearly shares Eden’s doubts.

  Joshua is not so subtle. “Cain’s off his rocker,” he says. “The House won’t stand much longer with him at the helm. I’m beginning to wonder whether he should be tested for dementia, frankly.”

  No one says anything in response to that, but I imagine we’re all thinking the same thing. Even I’m beginning to doubt the House’s unquestioned leadership. I don’t dare voice it, though. All I can do is rack my brain for any possible way out of this job. I’m too young to retire. I know too much already. Supposedly, my father retired from the House, but did he really? Years after his death, the Chains of Peter were found in his garage, and Seditio and the House made war on his front lawn.

  After we land, we drop our extra belongings at the hotel. It’s really a one-story motel just off the highway. It looks ancient, like it was built in the 1970s or something, and no one’s bothered to update it since. We have two rooms right next to each other. I’m meant to share with Eden while Joshua shares with Abigail.

  “Eden, this place is a shithole,” Joshua says, his shoes crunching in the gravel parking lot.

  Eden frowns and clenches his jaw. His hands are tight, trembling fists. “This is where Cain booked us the first time I was in Dublin. Guess he thought I would feel some nostalgia for the place.”

  Joshua shakes his head. “See what I mean? Dementia.”

  “Or cruelty,” Abigail adds. “Eden’s been blatantly questioning Cain’s authority lately, to his face even.”

  “Fuck it,” Eden says, and he marches to our room. “I’m not letting him get to me. Suit up, everyone! We’re heading out immediately.”

  The room has threadbare, brown carpets I’m certain were once a lovely maroon color. It smells overwhelmingly of cigarettes and, for some reason, wet dog. Eden lays his suitcase on the foot of one bed without so much as checking for bedbugs, which I feel is a mistake. We put on our STP armor, our black uniforms, and strap our weapons to all the places they’re meant to be strapped.

  Outside, four motorcycles wait for us. I admit, I’m excited to ride to the location, though I wonder what the point of this sort of transport is. Maybe we’re meant to look like a group of rich people in a collective midlife crisis, which would explain why the jackets we were given have various brand emblems stitched into them. Eden did say the location was a mansion, so I expect it to be in a wealthy neighborhood. The bikes are nice anyway, not knock-offs.

  Eden, Abigail, and Joshua put their helmets on and rev their engines. Joshua heads out first. The rest of us follow. The ride is pleasant and the weather downright balmy. The humidity is easy to bear after growing up in a place like Mobile. California really is as beautiful as they say. For a moment, I think I should tell Mom about it, in case she wants to buy a vacation house on the west coast. Then I remember.

  I grip the handlebars and speed out in front of everyone else. Suddenly, I’m desperate to work alone. I never want to need anyone again. It’s better if I don’t see my companions, and the miles of highway stretching out before me with green fields on either side calm my nerves a little.

  We park some distance from the mansion and hang our helmets on the bikes. The neighborhood itself can hardly be called a neighborhood as spread out as the houses are. In Mobile, even the richest neighborhoods are tightly packed, historical houses. Here, it seems the wealthy don’t want to even think about the existence of other people.

  As we walk, Eden says, “If this turns out to be anything like the original Blood of Mary mission, we’ll be looking for a glass vial. No matter what the circumstances, it’s vital that you don’t touch it. Don’t even trust your gloves. Understand? Alert Abigail and secure the location. That’s all I want you to do.” He grits his teeth and picks up the pace. “And another thing. Your instructions are to wound, not kill. I’m tired of unnecessary death.”

  Joshua spreads his arms, questioning. “But Cain told us to show no mercy.”

  “Fuck Cain,” Eden growls. Then he gathers his composure. “Cain isn’t your commanding officer here. Follow my instructions, and I’ll take the heat if he has a problem with it.”

  “Understood,” Abigail says. I’m sure she means it as a message to Joshua—we’ll all obey the Tennin without question—but I disagree. I have no intention of letting a single member of Seditio walk away from this alive. Cain may be out of his mind, but Eden is weak, and I respect strength over sanity.

  The mansion is sandy colored with arched walkways and windows, and elaborate reliefs on its walls. Palm trees dot the property, and there’s a running fountain out front. As soon as we’re on the circular drive, figures emerge from behind a row of pillars at the entrance. They all open fire at once.

  Eden jumps in front of me and extends True Winter. Abigail steps in front of Joshua and draws her gun. Joshua and I will use our Judges for cover while we fire.

  “Let the games begin,” Joshua says as he takes his first few shots. I notice he’s aiming low, following orders like a good little dog.

  When I aim, I aim higher. I hit a man in the head. Eden flinches but knows better than to admonish me. As we move closer, Joshua and I make it impossible for our attackers to aim true. We fire erratically, running behind our Judges toward the entrance. I shoot two more men in the chest. With incredible speed, Eden disarms several more. Another good dog, I think with a chuckle. Poor little Eden can’t even kill. He reverses his swing and destabilizes two more men, knocking them off their feet. I have to admit, he’s a good fighter, even though he’s pathetic.

  The front door is open. There are only a couple more men. Inadequate security for such an important artifact, if you ask me. This is the fucking source. Where’s the kind of small army Whiteface always traveled with? Don’t they care what happens to their source?

  At the door, I try to see inside, but the privacy glass around it prevents me. No matter. I grab a smoke grenade from my belt holster, break the glass with the butt of my gun, and throw the grenade inside.

  Seconds before smoke obscures my vision, I count four men. I signal to Eden, who kicks the door in and wades through the smoke like a true god of death. He must be a sight—an oppressive shadow with a reaper’s scythe. Abigail follows close behind him with her gun drawn, and Joshua runs around back to clear any stragglers or cowards trying to escape.

  As soon as I step inside, a guard comes at me with a knife. I grab his arm, pull him close, and shoot him in the chest, smiling as he goes down, a look of shock painted on his face. Then I run upstairs to my assigned turf. I can’t wait to take on Seditio unobserved. I’ll enjoy the sound of their screams as they learn one of life’s most important lessons. Never create a monster you aren’t able to contain.

  Every door on the second floor is open except one at the end of the hall. I ease around each doorframe, peeking inside in case there’s anyone left to kill. To my supreme disappointment, all the rooms are empty.

  At the final door, I hesitate and listen. There’s movement within, something shushing like fabric. Someone is definitely behind this door, and I feel a rush of adrenaline at the thought. Already, my mind is coming up with ways to torture them, whoever they are. I can’t help the grin spreading across my face as I finally kick the door in.

  And then my smile drops. It isn’t a member of Seditio waiting for me in that room. It’s Phoebe. I’m sick at the sight of her. They got her. Somehow, they got her, and this is a trap. Whiteface is still alive, and he’s going to kill her in front of me to finish what he started in France. I can’t keep my hands from shaking. I point my gun down for fear I might accidentally discharge it in her direction. I open my mouth to speak, but I can’t seem to form words.

  “O?” she says. “You okay?”

  I cough and sputter. “That’s… That’s my line. What are you doing here? When did they get you? Did they hurt you?”

  She laughs, and of course, it’s inappropriate; that’s just who Phoebe is. But there’s something different about her bizarre behavior now. It’s not warm and familiar. It’s not just a cute idiosyncrasy. It’s terrifying. “Do I look hurt to you?” She twirls around, and I suddenly notice how absurd her dress is—black and yellow with a full taffeta skirt that only goes down to her knees. She’s wearing shiny black shoes and black lace gloves too. She looks like a cross between a doll and a parasitic wasp.

  I rack my brain trying to figure out what Seditio is doing with her. Why did they dress her like this? Why is she here, unguarded and alone? “What do they want with you?” I murmur, half to myself and half to her.

  She walks up to me and slaps me on the shoulder. “Silly boy. No one’s taken me. This is exactly where I want to be. I’ve come to save you.”

  I can’t look at her anymore. She’s giving me a headache, and the room itself isn’t helping. Everything’s done up in shades of yellow. Even the wallpaper is yellow with light gray swallows flying in perfect patterns around darker rows of leafy gray ivy. I close my eyes when the room starts to spin. “You’re here to save me?”

  “Oui, mon coeur,” she says. “Let me save you from this ridiculous destiny you’ve assigned yourself, from the House of David and its many, many lies.”

  Her French accent thickens, and I’m back in that basement with a black-haired woman whispering into my ear—a woman who smelled of peppermint. She must have been wearing a wig. I gag on the memory. “You’re… Mary Denau…”

  “Ding, ding, ding!” she sings. “Correct! Let’s take a look at what our contestant has won today.” She bites her lip in pretend anticipation. “It’s a brand new life!” She mimics the sound of a cheering crowd. “That’s right, Orion Carter Bachman! You’ve won a shiny new existence, free of frauds and liars, tyrants and fools. A whole new identity. The freedom to become whoever you wish without the pressure of other people’s expectations.” She draws closer with every word. “Without the fear your family instilled, the judgment of your friends, and the influence of your deranged brother.”

  She’s inches from me now. My eyes sting from the tears I’m holding back, and my throat tightens. “You… killed my friends, my mom and grandpa. Why?” I sob and scream, “Why!” The word hits her full in the face along with the heat of all the rage I’ve bottled up.

  For some god-forsaken reason, she looks taken aback. Did she think I would thank her, praise her, fall on my knees, and worship her for taking everything from me? She steps back a few paces and says, “No, Orion. I only erased fakes. None of those people really loved you. Not like I do. Not even your mother, although Caldwell wasn’t supposed to shoot her. That man was impossible to control in the end. Well, you made nice work of him, didn’t you? Every cloud has its silver lining.”

  “Silver lining? Silver lining!” My arm raises of its own accord, and the barrel of my gun trembles as I aim it at her face. “Give me one reason—one fucking reason—not to shoot you right now. Please, Phoebe… Or Mary… Or whoever the fuck you are.” I can barely see through my tears. “Just one reason!”

  “Mon Dieu!” Mary chuckles. “You’re doing the Orion thing again, overthinking everything. Kill me if it’ll make you feel better, but I don’t think it will. I’ve known you too long. All I ever tried to do was push you in the right direction. I never meant to get so attached to you, but the heart wants what the heart wants. And now I have to steal you back from the ridiculous House of David. I have to free you from your own mistakes, your need to be somebody’s hero. Let it go. Just let everything go already.”

  “I don’t even know who you are,” I mumble, still aiming my gun at her face.

  She frowns. “You knew who I was the whole time. Come on, O, I know you’re smarter than this. It was so obvious! You just didn’t want to believe it. I waited and waited for you to finally accept the truth. I knew you wouldn’t kill me. I believed in you so much I actually bet my life on you. Caldwell was sure you were just like everyone else and would sacrifice me to save yourself and your family, but you did what you always do.” She pauses and looks out the window. “I hated that he tried to fuck me, though. So, you know, he had to die—not that he would’ve survived if he’d succeeded. I’m… quite potent, you know.”