Emerald Blaze

Chapter 12

Shadow greeted me at the door. I picked her up and carried her with me into the kitchen. The overhead light was off, but the light fixture above the table flooded it with bright electric light.

The table stood empty. Odd. It wasn’t late.

I stepped into the kitchen. Grandma Frida stood by the open fridge, examining the contents with a sour look.

“Did I miss dinner?”

“Leftover night,” Grandma Frida said.

“Oh.”

Leftover night meant everyone made a trip to the fridge whenever hunger struck them and grabbed whatever they could find.

“Anything good left?”

Grandma Frida shook her head. “Half of the rotisserie chicken with the skin gone and the Mongolian beef you made two nights ago, except everyone picked the beef out and there is only mushy onion left.”

“Well, that’s no good. I’ll make us something.”

“You’ve been gone all day.” Grandma Frida waved her hand. “Is there any more of those crispy pizzas left?”

I set Shadow down, checked the freezer, and pulled out two California Kitchen pizzas. Grandma’s blue eyes lit up. “Perfect.”

I popped the pizzas in the oven, set the timer, and followed her to the table.

“How is it going with the broken tank?”

“I found the problem,” Grandma Frida said. “It doesn’t work because it’s not broken.”

I blinked at her.

“See, I couldn’t figure it out. The tank was telling me that nothing was broken, but the filter system wouldn’t work.” Grandma Frida paused for dramatic effect. “The Russians DRM’ed the filter system.”

“What?”

“The original filters have a barcode on them. I thought it was a price sticker. There is a little scanner in the filter system, and if it doesn’t read the right barcode, it locks the whole thing down. Damn bastards.”

I laughed.

“Who puts DRM into the damn filter system?” Grandma Frida griped.

“The Russian Imperial Military, apparently. Are you going to order some Russian filters?”

“Hell no. I have the five filters that came with the tank, more than enough for Bern to predict the pattern. He’s going to print me some barcodes on stickers in the morning. I’m going to glue them on the filters and see if it works.”

I rested my elbow on the table and leaned my chin on my palm. Sitting with Grandma Frida like this was like being wrapped in a soft, warm blanket after coming inside on a cold day.

“What?” Grandma Frida asked.

“Nothing. Just happy to be home.”

Grandma Frida’s face softened. “You don’t look so good, kiddo. Rough day?”

“You could say that.”

“How did it go?”

“I found out that there is an indestructible construct in the swamp. I have to kill it and the woman who made it or the world will end.”

“Not that.” Grandma Frida waved her hand. “How did it go with Alessandro?”

Grandma Frida, always focused on what’s important. “I don’t know.”

“What do you mean you don’t know? Why did he leave? Where did he go?”

“He went to kill the man who murdered his father.”

“Well?” Grandma Frida waved her arms. “Details! Did he kill him?”

“I don’t think so.”

“What happened?”

“I didn’t ask.”

“Why not?” Grandma Frida asked.

“Because whatever happened broke him inside. He’s not the same person who left. He answers whatever I ask, so if I ask, he will tell me.”

“And that’s a bad thing why?”

“Because I’m trying very hard not to care.”

“What happens if you care?”

“We’ll both get hurt.”

Grandma Frida fixed me with her blue eyes. “Since when did you become such a coward?”

“It’s more complicated than that.”

If Alessandro left, it would crush me. I knew it and I’d come to terms with it. If he stayed, it would be even worse. I had no doubts anymore. He wanted me as much as I wanted him. Eventually one of us would break down and open that door, and then what?

Alessandro was a Sagredo, an heir to a traditional House, a magical dynasty that was generations old. No matter how badly his relationship with his family crumbled, he would never sever it completely. The way his face had softened when he spoke of his mother told me that sooner or later he would go back. He would try to become a version of his father, a respected Head of the House with a wife and children.

I couldn’t be that wife.

Alessandro would want me all to himself. I couldn’t share him either. He would ask me to marry him, and I would have to break his heart and tell him no. He would have given up his revenge for me, the thing that dominated and shaped who he was, and I would have to tell him no.

I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t inflict that kind of pain on him. I would do anything to keep him from getting hurt.

“No matter what happens, it will end in heartbreak,” I muttered.

“You don’t know that.” Grandma Frida tapped the table with her index finger. “There is something about you and that boy. The two of you talk like a matched pair. He came back here for a reason. He came back for you.”

And now I had a choice to break my heart or his. I picked mine.

“Don’t roll your eyes at me, missy. I know men.”

I put my hand out. “TMI.”

“He looks at you the way Shadow looks at bacon in the morning. You look at him like you have to put a straitjacket on yourself every time he is near. You tried breaking up. It didn’t stick, because wild horses couldn’t drag the two of you apart.”

“Grandma, he’s been back for less than forty-eight hours. When did you even see any of this?”

“I spied on you talking with him in the driveway through the security cameras.”

Once this was over, we had to buy a new place. One where I could have a tiny crumb of privacy.

Grandma Frida pounded her fist on the table. “Listen to me, you dummy! Most men can’t even hold a conversation with you because your brain is too fast. You say two words to him, and he knows what you mean. You only have so many chances to connect with a person. You can always walk away, Catalina, that’s the simplest thing. I don’t want you to push him away and then regret it for the rest of your life.”

“Grandma, I’m an adult. I will sort it out. I love you, but you have to butt out of my relationships.”

“Well, I am an older adult. I’ve lived a long time, and when I look back, I don’t regret the things I’ve done. I regret the things I didn’t do, chances I didn’t take. Because you can’t get those back. At least give him a shot.”

The timer on the stove went off. I grabbed two cutting boards and slid pizzas onto them one by one.

“Nobody is saying you have to marry him.”

I sliced the pizzas and brought the cutting boards to the table.

“Are you listening to me?”

“Yes, Grandma.”

I put two plates on the table.

Grandma Frida shook her head. “How did I end up with all these smartass grandchildren?”

“Genetics.”

“Ooo.” Grandma Frida wagged her finger at me and took a slice of pizza.

I winked at her and bit into my slice.

Bern walked into the kitchen. “I smell food.”

“There’s plenty,” I said.

He went to the cabinet to get some plates. “I ran the statistics on the Pit. It’s been steadily growing, at about three to five feet per year. Three months ago, the rate of erosion quadrupled. It’s no longer uniform either. Stretches of land disappear in random places. It’s not natural.”

The Abyss was expanding its territory. If it just stayed in the Pit, it could be contained, but it wouldn’t. As Regina said, the Abyss would grow, because it was no longer a construct. It was alive. Life expanded, devoured, consumed, and expanded again. A cold, slimy surge of anxiety squirmed through me, dragging nausea in its wake. We had to stop it and I had no idea how.

Bern brought two plates over. I made a point to look at them.

“You realize this is silly, right?”

Bern shrugged and reached for Grandma Frida’s pizza slice. She slapped his hand.

“Mine. Get your own.”

I got up. “You can have mine. The antivenom shot isn’t sitting well anyway.”

Grandma Frida blinked at me. “Why did you need an antivenom shot?”

“Love you, Grandma, gotta go.”

I escaped and went to my room. My body felt heavy and tired. Brushing my teeth and changing clothes was almost too much. I forced myself to do it anyway, and then I called Marat.

“Kazarian,” he answered.

“This is Catalina Baylor. I’ve learned more about the being in the Pit. Marat, we have to shut down the site.”

“Out of the question,” he said. “I gave you everything you asked for.”

“This isn’t about the investigation. This is about your safety. The creature in the Pit is extremely dangerous. It’s been enlarging the Pit, and it will attack you.”

“Every day we don’t work, we sink deeper into the hole.”

“Would your wife and children rather have you or a pile of money? My father died and I would do anything for just one more day with him. Please shut it down. At least until we figure out how to kill it. Please.”

He heaved a sigh. “Okay. I’ll get our people out of there tomorrow.”

“Thank you.”

I hung up and crawled into my bed. Shadow jumped up, made three circles on the covers, and settled by my feet.

“What are we going to do?” I asked her.

Shadow drummed her tail on the covers.

I wished Alessandro was here. I wished I could kiss him and feel his arms around me. I missed him so badly, it hurt.

Everyone was allowed a moment of weakness once in a while. I decided not to beat myself up over it. Instead, I closed my eyes and sank into sleep.

I walked into the kitchen at eight and made a beeline for the electric kettle. Someone had already warmed up the water and put my loose black tea into my tiny glass teapot. This almost never happened.

I poured hot water into the teapot, turned around, and looked at the three people sitting at the kitchen table. Cornelius, Leon, and Arabella gazed back at me. All three wore business clothes. Cornelius chose slate-blue trousers and a light blue dress shirt with the sleeves pushed up to his elbows. A pair of shades hung from his collar. Nevada told me that when they first met, Cornelius was perfectly put together. In the three years he’d worked with us, his style had evolved into dressed-up but laid-back. He always wore formal clothes, but he somehow managed to look casual in them.

Arabella picked a blue dress with a plunging neckline that miraculously exposed no cleavage. It had lightly padded shoulders and lines that signaled trench coat rather than dress, with lapels, fitted sleeves, which she rolled up, and a skirt that reached to midthigh. She cinched the whole thing with a light gold belt that should have been gaudy but somehow looked elegant and paired it with high-heeled gold sandals. Her hair framed her face in gorgeous waves, her makeup was professional photoshoot quality, and she had hung a light pink purse on the back of her chair. Gold-rimmed sunglasses sat on her head. It was a killer outfit and she made the most of it.

Leon wore light grey pants cut like jeans, a matching sports coat, and a blue-grey dress shirt. He’d combed his hair, but hadn’t shaved, and his stubble was just the right length to be fashionable. Leon never cared about fashionable and he was usually clean shaven. Barely twenty-four hours had passed since we found out Audrey had died.

I poured my tea into my cup, blew on it, and sipped.

My sister raised a plate. “Would you like a muffin?”

“What are the three of you up to?”

“I would like to accompany you to Tatyana’s interview,” Cornelius said.

Arabella raised her phone. “Questions for Stephen Jiang. I worked very hard on them. I won’t say anything. I just want to be there.”

I looked at Leon. “And you?”

“I’m tired of sitting around the house. I’ll come for protection.”

He’d only had to sit around the house for a day.

I sipped my tea. “I understand all that, but why are you all in blue?”

The three of them looked at each other.

“Did you plan this? Am I supposed to coordinate?”

Arabella opened her mouth.

My phone rang. I glanced at it. Linus. I held up my hand and put the phone to my ear.

“I’m borrowing your Italian,” Linus said. “You will have to do without.”

What did he mean, borrowing? “For how long?”

“Until we’re finished.”

He wouldn’t tell me. Whatever it was had to be dangerous, because Linus Duncan didn’t require backup. He was the backup, the strike team, and the field artillery, all by himself. Anxiety pinched me. My pulse sped up. Linus must’ve calculated the odds and decided he needed Alessandro. I wanted them both to come out of this alive.

“Do you need my help?”

“No.”

Argh. “I need to talk to you about the Pit.”

“It will have to wait. Carry on.”

He hung up. I resisted the urge to slam the phone down on the counter. It was a very strong urge and I had to resist very hard.

I looked up at the three in blue at the table. I had to give Cornelius his moment with Tatyana. Arabella couldn’t transform in city limits without causing panic and massive problems for us as a House. If the telekinetic made an appearance, having Leon could mean a difference between life and death.

“Will you please come with me?” I asked.

The Pierce Building sat on two beautifully landscaped acres off Wilcrest Drive, just north of Westheimer Road. Unlike most Houses, pyrokinetic mages were barred from owning commercial real estate inside the Sam Houston Tollway Loop, because they tended to start fires. Even outside the Loop, the municipal regulations dictated a certain distance between their buildings and others, which is why the Pierce Building rose in the middle of a park all by its lonesome.

Built in the 1980s, the six-story structure resembled dominoes placed on their sides and leaned against each other, so each rectangle protruded a little farther from the one before it. Built of sunset-red granite with black patches and veins, it looked at the world with rows of floor-to-ceiling black windows. The whole thing looked foreboding, like some dark fortress.

“You’ve reached your destination, the Bastion of Evil,” Arabella announced when we got out of the car.

“We shall assume our vigil,” Leon said and headed to the nearest bench.

We all agreed that marching the four of us into Tatyana’s office would be overkill. It would signal that we were afraid of her. Cornelius and I would be enough.

“Have fun.” Arabella sat next to Leon and pulled out her phone.

“How long before I should rescue you?” Leon asked.

Cornelius held the door open, and Bunny jumped out of the car. The Doberman Pinscher sniffed the air, poised, his frame corded with muscle under a black-and-tan pelt. His ears twitched.

“I don’t believe we’ll need rescuing,” Cornelius said with a soft smile. “If we don’t come out in half an hour, wait some more.”

Cornelius and I started up the curving sidewalk to the building. Cornelius walked briskly. Bunny must’ve picked up on the tension he was emitting, because the Doberman glued himself to the animal mage’s side.

“We are here for information,” I murmured.

“I haven’t forgotten. Don’t worry. As much as I despise House Pierce, I won’t abandon my professional obligations.”

I had sent him a detailed email last night, outlining the situation with Cheryl. The mission for today was to find out if anyone helped her.

“I spoke with my sister,” Cornelius said. “She went to school with Tatyana. Peter, Tatyana’s older brother, was a late bloomer. The full extent of his magic didn’t become apparent until he turned eleven. Up to that point Tatyana, as the oldest Prime, was groomed to be the head of the family. According to Diana, Tatyana told her that the day she found out that Peter manifested as Prime was the happiest day of her life. I personally didn’t interact with her that much.”

Interesting. “Everyone I’ve spoken to said she has a temper.”

“Perhaps that will be useful.”

It certainly would be. “I bet you a dollar there will be flames at some point.”

“I’ll take that bet,” Cornelius said.

We went through the glass doors and submitted to a security check. The tall Hispanic guard looked at Bunny but made no move to approach.

“Is this a service animal, sir?”

“Yes.”

In the hands of an animal mage, the Doberman wasn’t just a dog. He was a loaded shotgun that would take down his attackers with terrifying speed. I’d seen him take on a dinosaurlike arcane summon that was three times his size. Bunny had jumped six feet in the air and torn the beast’s throat out.

The guard nodded. “I need to take his picture.”

“Of course,” Cornelius said. “Smile, Bunny.”

Bunny bared a forest of teeth.

Three minutes later, armed with new IDs, we took the elevator to Tatyana’s office on the fifth floor.

I had imagined cherrywood and black glass and possibly random flames jetting out of the floor. Instead, I got white marble floors, pale walls, indoor plants, and tons of sunshine streaming through the massive windows.

Tatyana sat behind a beige desk molded from a single block of plastic into a curved ergonomic form. The desk supported a computer, a two-foot-tall glass sculpture shaped like a tongue of flame glowing with red and orange, and a cute kitten made of frosted glass with blue eyes and a swipe of glitter on its ears.

There it was, the difference between Cheryl and Tatyana in a nutshell. Both women were somewhat close in age and income. Both had gone through the same schools. Both ran multimillion-dollar companies and dressed the part. But Cheryl would rather be dead than have a cute glass kitten on her desk. She micromanaged her image. Tatyana didn’t give a damn what other people thought of her, because she had nothing to prove. She was powerful and confident, and if she wanted to have a kitten with glitter on its ears on her desk, she would have one. I pitied anyone who tried to tell her it was unprofessional. That would be a good show to watch.

Tatyana saw us, stood up, and walked around her desk. She wore a seafoam dress with a square neckline. Her makeup was expertly applied, neither too much, nor too little. She’d twisted her hair into a knot and stuck a pencil into it. Her feet were bare, her taupe-colored heels lay abandoned under the desk.

Tatyana crossed her arms over her ample chest, looked at Cornelius, then looked at me. “Good move bringing him.”

“She didn’t bring me. I brought myself,” Cornelius said.

“Of course you did. How is Diana?”

“She’s well.”

Tatyana nodded at the chairs. “Sit.”

I took the chair on the left. Cornelius chose the one on the right. Bunny lay down on the floor by Cornelius and stared at Tatyana like she was a striking cobra. She glanced at the ID clipped to his collar. The corners of her mouth curved, threatening to stretch into a smile. She caught herself and killed it.

“Let’s start with July 15^th,” Cornelius said.

Tatyana leaned her butt against her desk. “Is this necessary? Montgomery’s goons already verified my schedule.” She glanced at me. “How does that work, by the way? Are you taking orders from Augustine?”

“That’s not relevant,” Cornelius said.

“On the contrary, that’s very relevant. Morton drove a truck to MII’s headquarters and dumped a load of money on their doorstep. Montgomery sprang into action before ever talking to any of us. Agents everywhere, staff questioned, witnesses contacted. Then twenty-four hours later he drops the case in your lap. You’re what, twelve? Are you sleeping with him? Because really, he’s too old for you.”

Cornelius leaned back. “Does this type of misdirection usually work for you?”

“You would be surprised,” Tatyana told him.

“It will go faster if you disclose whatever it is you want to hide,” Cornelius said. “I’ll ferret it out eventually and it would save us time.”

Tatyana looked at me. “Do you ever speak?”

“Yes,” I told her.

“Hallelujah.”

Cornelius threw one long leg over the other. His expression turned stern. Uh-oh.

“I see that House Pierce hasn’t changed. I used to wonder if Adam was an aberration, but now I see that he was a direct product of his upbringing and environment. Not surprising.”

Tatyana stared at him. Behind her, flames shot out of a hidden fissure and for a moment she was silhouetted against a wall of fire. Wow.

“Choose your words more carefully,” Prime Pierce warned.

Cornelius reached into his pocket, took out his wallet, pulled a dollar out, and handed it to me.

The flames died.

“When I was a child,” Cornelius said, “I took the blame for Adam’s mistakes and I endured his punishments for him. Your family turned me into a whipping boy.”

Tatyana flinched.

“When eight-year-old Adam was caught stealing and burned the face of the store owner’s relative, disfiguring him, I was grounded for a month because I failed to help him make good choices. When twelve-year-old Adam set a girl’s clothes on fire, because she refused to let him grope her, and her entire body blistered, I was put on restriction for three months. My electronic privileges were revoked, my food intake was cut in half, and I couldn’t step a foot out of my room unless I was going to school. I went three months without direct contact with any of my animals. When Adam was sixteen and he burned down a club because they refused to let him in, the dog who had been my friend and protector since I was nine years old was put down as my punishment.”

Oh my God.

“I loathe your family, Tatyana. I’d like nothing more than to ruin House Pierce entirely. Unfortunately, I’m bound by professional ethics. They dictate that my priority is to obtain the information I need. You have a choice to make. You know which path I would relish more.”

Tatyana looked at him. The office fell completely silent.

She uncrossed her arms and rested them on the desk on both sides of her.

“You’re right, Cornelius. My younger brother is a sadistic little shit. I don’t know if God made him like that or he got warped along the way. I do know that my father ignored it and my mother made it infinitely worse. Either way, you’ve suffered, and I am sorry for it.”

Well, knock me over with a feather.

Tatyana leaned forward. “However, your family is just as complicit in your torture as mine. They chose to put you into this situation by deciding to use you to buy my family’s patronage. They chose to inflict the punishments. All of them. And they may not have loved you the way parents should, but at least they ignored you when Adam wasn’t trying to torch everything in sight. You could go home and be safe, Cornelius. I never got to be safe. I had to go back to the hell that was my family every day and try to survive between my father, who ratcheted the pressure because I was never good enough, and my mother, who punished me for the smallest infraction I committed. When Peter’s magic manifested, I cried in my room. These weren’t sad tears. I cried from happiness, because I realized they would now let me be. So yes, we are all fucked up. You are not special. Get over it or don’t. Your choice. I refuse to allow my parents’ shadow to rule my life. They fucked up my childhood, they don’t get to fuck up the rest. I’m an adult, I make my own decisions, and I own my mistakes. Your future is your responsibility, not theirs.”

Okay then.

Cornelius thought about it and nodded. “Fair enough. Let’s talk about your mistakes on July 15^th.”

Tatyana sighed. “Fine. MII’s report will say that I spent the day at the office. And I did. But I also left for two hours and saw Felix at the Tower.”

“The Assembly’s visitor log for that day doesn’t show your name,” Cornelius said.

“I met him in the parking lot.”

“Why?” Cornelius asked.

“He wanted to shut down the Pit. He demanded an emergency meeting that Thursday and argued that the Pit wasn’t safe. He thought there was something terrible in there. Something we didn’t understand. We unanimously voted against shutting it down.”

Cornelius nodded. “Why did you vote against it?”

Tatyana sighed again. “Well, there is the money. We’re in deep. More importantly, House Pierce can’t afford a failure. You know how things work. Adam set us on fire. Now everything we touch is smudged with soot. We live under a microscope. If we failed in the Pit, it would be a disaster. There would be speculation and articles in the media about how we are finished as a House and how everything we get involved in turns to crap. We’ve made enemies. We have business rivals. We can’t appear weak, so we have to make the Pit work.”

“What did you and Felix talk about?” Cornelius asked.

“On Thursday there was this look in his eyes. I know the look. It’s when you hunch your shoulders and barrel through no matter what anyone says. I met him because I wanted to talk him out of whatever he wanted to do.”

“Did he agree?” Cornelius asked.

“No. He wouldn’t tell me what he was doing. He just said that it was for the common good and that I would understand. I got frustrated. I raised my voice. I don’t know if there were witnesses.”

She wasn’t lying. I would bet a lot more than a dollar on it.

Cornelius nodded again. “What did you do afterward?”

“I went back to the office. I was angry, and I left early and went home.”

“Can anyone confirm that?” Cornelius asked.

“You can pull the cell phone data. I called Peter on the way and vented. Of course, he is family, so his testimony would be suspect. I got home, made a drink, and then got into a stupid Facebook fight with some moron over politics. That took half an hour. Once I vented, I ended up buying a book and spent the rest of the evening reading it. My brain needed a vacation.”

“What kind of a book?” Cornelius asked.

“Tower Inferno. It’s a detective series about a PI who solves crimes committed by Primes.” Tatyana’s face was completely flat. “The killer was a pyrokinetic this time. Supposedly, the writer based it on Adam.”

Cornelius raised his eyebrows. “Did it stand up to scrutiny?”

“No. Adam was never that idealistic. Also, the writer has no idea what it takes to set up a House spell capable of incinerating five city blocks in ten minutes. They never get the magic right.”

Cornelius turned to me. “Anything to add?”

I took a photograph of Felix’s corpse from my purse, unfolded it, and passed it to her. “How long would you have to burn the body with a Helios X4 flamethrower to cause this damage?”

Tatyana took the photograph, studied it, and frowned. “This was done by someone who doesn’t understand how a flamethrower works. Flamethrowers are designed to set structures on fire. They expel a stream of flammable liquid, which sticks to surfaces and can be bounced around, allowing projection of fire into tight spaces like inside a bunker. They are great for flushing out tunnels. they also make effective psychological weapons because everyone fears fire.”

Tatyana held the picture up and pointed to Felix’s charred feet.

“This person tried to use it like a blow torch. They probably wanted a jet of flame to torture Felix. Burn him, stop, burn him again, and so on until he told them what they wanted. Instead they squirted accelerant onto Felix’s legs and, judging by the damage, probably emptied the entire canister. Then they set him on fire. Once he started burning, there was no way to put him out. Even if you dipped him in water, the accelerant wouldn’t wash off. So as far as torture goes, this is a lousy attempt.”

“Thank you.” I got up.

“Is that it?” Tatyana asked.

“Yes,” I said.

“Is there something in the Pit?” Tatyana asked.

“Yes.”

“So Felix was right.” Tatyana’s face fell. “We were his partners. He came to us for help, and we shot him down, and now he’s dead.”

It didn’t require a response. “Thank you again. We will keep you informed. We’ll show ourselves out.”

Outside Cornelius squinted at the sunshine. “It pains me to say this, but I don’t believe she did it.”

“I don’t think so either.”

Cornelius’ sister was right. With Tatyana, what you saw was what you got. All things considered, I would take Tatyana’s bluntness over Cheryl’s soft, passive-aggressive chiding any day.

“Thank you for doing the interview,” I told him.

“Thank you for honoring my request. It was cathartic for me.”

“I also have a request,” I said.

“Please tell me.”

“Patricia told me she spoke to you about Arkan.”

He nodded. “She did.”

“These are the kind of people who aim at the most vulnerable spots. They’re trying to cripple us, and nothing is off the table, the innocent, the elderly, children . . .”

He smiled his small smile. “Are you asking me to hide?”

“I have utmost respect for your magic, and I know Matilda is safe with your sister, but if something happened to your daughter or you because of us, I wouldn’t be able to live with myself.”

“Would it make things easier for you if I joined Diana and Matilda on the ranch?”

I didn’t even try to hide my relief. “Yes.”

“On one condition,” Cornelius said. “You will call me if you need my help.”

“I will.”

He smiled again. “I will hold you to it.”

We walked down the path. I checked my phone. Alessandro hadn’t texted.

Was he hurt? Maybe he was dead. Who knew what kind of nightmare Linus dragged him into?

I texted him. Are you alive?

No answer.

I clenched my teeth and headed to the bench where my sister and cousin waited for us.

Like all water mages, the Jiangs preferred to be as close to a waterway as possible. They would’ve built in the water if the city let them, but Houston had strict regulations concerning its waters, so House Jiang had to settle for a beautiful spot on Riverway Drive a couple hundred yards from the Buffalo Bayou. Inspired by the Aqua Tower of Chicago, their headquarters rose from the landscape to twelve floors crowned with an enormous water reservoir built with blue high-resistance plastic. Wavelike slabs of pale blue concrete stretched from the tower flowing in and out of huge blue windows, giving the building an undulating quality. The overall effect was of spines of pale rock protruding from a blue stream.

As we walked to the building, the bright July sunlight shone through the translucent reservoir on the tower’s top, throwing water highlights at the building and the landscaped lawn around it.

“Pretty,” Arabella said.

Cornelius had gone back to the office. It was just me, Leon, and Arabella. I checked my phone for the twentieth time. Still nothing from Alessandro.

“We agreed,” I said. “Let me do the talking.”

“I said okay.” My sister rolled her eyes.

“Remember the Magellan case?”

Leon grinned.

“How many times are you going to keep bringing that up?” Arabella growled. “Just the questions as I wrote them and we won’t have a problem. Promise.”

“I’m just saying. You also said okay then, and it ended with you on the conference table holding the CEO by his throat.”

“I’m not going to hold Stephen by his throat. He’s too pretty for that.”

I would regret this, I just knew it.

An Asian woman met us at the door. She was in her forties, impeccably dressed in white, with a conservative haircut, dark lipstick, and spare silver jewelry. She smiled at us. “Prime Baylor, welcome. Mr. Jiang is expecting you. This way, please.”

She led us through a lobby that had more in common with a luxury hotel than a corporate headquarters. A massive fountain cascaded from the wall over a waterfall of mossy rocks. Everything was either white or blue, the lines ergonomic, the floor and walls pristine, and the employees of House Jiang glided through this ultramodern environment as if they were swimming.

“This is what the inside of a drowned iPhone would look like,” Leon murmured as we waited by a glass elevator.

I stepped on his foot and checked my phone again. Nothing.

So far everything about this building supported the conclusions my sister drew from the background check of Stephen Jiang. The Jiang family was conservative, conscious of their image, and dedicated to expanding their business. They did not feud. They bought their opponents and absorbed their companies. She could find no record of them ever being a combat House. They had no active lawsuits, bankruptcies, or criminal records, except for Henry, Stephen’s younger brother, who got a DUI in college for smoking pot in a parked car with the keys in the ignition. He was the black sheep of the family, currently away in Beijing studying computer science of all things.

Stephen’s office was on the second floor. Our guide led us through a wide hallway past a white desk shaped like an upside-down flower petal. The two women at the desk rose as she passed. Ahead of us the white wall split with a whisper, sliding out and back. Beyond it lay a luxurious space, too large to call an office. The white floor gleamed. On our right was a lounge area with white couches arranged in a circle around a crystal table facing the tinted floor-to-ceiling window. On our left stood a translucent blue desk shaped like a cresting ocean wave with three chairs in front of it. Behind the desk the entire wall was glass and beyond it was water.

The reservoir didn’t just top the building. It ran straight down through, with the structure encircling this water core.

Stephen Jiang stood pondering the water, his back to us. His black suit fit him like a glove.

The older woman bowed to the back of his head, smiled at us, and withdrew. The doors slid shut behind her, their seal so tight, it looked like a solid wall.

Stephen turned. He really was a shockingly handsome man. His gaze slid over me, to Leon, and then to Arabella. My sister pretended to be disinterested, as if this were an errand we had to check off before moving on to more important matters.

“Welcome,” Stephen said. “I have a meeting in half an hour, so we’ll have to keep the small talk to a minimum. Please ask your questions.”

He motioned us to the chairs in front of the desk and sat down. I took out my tablet with the list of Arabella’s questions.

“Some of these are routine for our background check. Please answer to the best of your ability.”

Stephen nodded and made a proceed gesture with his right hand.

“Is your name Stephen Jiang?”

“Yes.”

“Are you also known as Jiāng Chéng Fèng?”

He blinked. “Yes.”

“Is your father Marcus Jiang also known as Jiāng Yuán Zé?”

“Yes.”

“Is your mother Ann Jiang also known as Zhāng Pèi Fāng?”

“Yes.”

“Do you have two siblings?”

“Yes.”

“Is your brother named Henry Jiang, also known as Jiāng Chéng Rùi?”

“Yes.”

“Is your sister named Alison, also known as Jiāng Chéng Xīn?”

“What is the point of this?”

“Please answer the questions. The faster we get through this, the sooner we will leave.”

“Yes.”

“Did you graduate summa cum laude from Harvard Business School at twenty?”

“Yes.”

“Are you a Prime aquakinetic?”

“Yes.”

“Are you twenty-four years old?”

“Yes.”

“Have you been working for the family since you were fifteen years old?”

“Yes.”

“Did you assume your first executive post at eighteen?”

“Yes.”

“Is your family originally from Suzhou?”

“Yes.”

“Did they once live by the Yangtze River?”

“Yes.”

“Did they used to trade in textiles?”

“Yes.”

His answers were monotone now. Stephen had surrendered to his fate. Just a little more.

“Did they do business in Shanghai?”

“Yes.”

“Did they move to Hong Kong as the result of a cultural revolution?”

“Yes.”

“Did they emigrate to the United States in 1947?”

“Yes.”

“Does Han Min die of poison in episode sixty-three?”

“Yes. Wait, no, she doesn’t die. Why would she die, she is the main character? I heal her with a Heavenly Celestial Pill . . .”

Stephen’s brain finally realized what was coming out of his mouth. He froze.

“Ha!” Arabella exclaimed.

I looked at her. She clamped her mouth shut.

Stephen reached for the intercom and pushed a button. “Cancel the Redford meeting. Hold all my calls.” He let go and stared at me. “How?”

“We watch the show.”

“Here, in Texas?”

“It’s available on the Viki streaming app,” I told him.

Stephen leaned back in his chair, his face betraying nothing. “Is it popular?”

“Very,” I said.

He locked his teeth. He probably wanted to swear and punch something, but we were right there.

“Are you here to blackmail me with this?”

“I am here to solve the murder of Felix Morton. I would appreciate your honesty.”

He gave me a sharp look. “And if I don’t answer, will my acting stunt be smeared all over the Herald?”

“Not by us.” I matched his stare. “I’m asking you about this because it doesn’t fit with the rest of your biography. It’s a mystery and I don’t like mysteries.”

He thought about it. “This doesn’t leave the room.”

“Agreed.”

“How much do you know about my brother?”

“Henry, Jiāng Chéng Rùi, twenty-one years old, studying computer science in Beijing, has a fondness for pot.”

Stephen grimaced. “I wish he was in Beijing studying computer science. My brother was approached by a studio when he was eighteen. He is Chen Rui.”

“Chen Rui, the actor?” I turned and looked at Arabella.

Chen Rui played Han Min’s love interest. She had to have known he was Henry. She would have looked at Henry’s picture and compared it with Chen Rui.

Arabella gave me a bright unrepentant smile. “Number 43 on the Top 100 Most Influential Celebrities in China list.”

Stephen sighed. “Yes.”

“Why are you hiding this?” I asked.

Stephen leaned back. “We don’t have enough time for me to explain it to you. Let’s just say that there are cultural and familial reasons for which my parents would greatly prefer that Henry was either at Beijing University or back here, helping to steer House Jiang’s corporate interests.”

“So how did you end up acting in the same drama?”

“My brother refuses to come home. Two years ago, my parents sent me over there with instructions to bring him home for a visit at any cost. He said he would come home for the Lunar New Year if I took a small role in the drama with him. He wanted me to understand his choices. So, I did it, it’s done, and I have no interest in continuing with it.”

“Did Henry come home?” I asked.

“Yes. And then he left again.”

Arabella raised her hand. “Question. Did you do any of the martial arts in the drama or was it CGI and wires?”

Stephen spared her a look that was part patience and part condescension. “I’m a Chinese American, so of course I spend all my free time in a secret monastery learning kung fu and practicing spiritual cultivation. Because one day a demon king shall descend onto Houston and only my Ninth Level Thunder Fist Punch will stand in his way.”

Arabella drew back. He’d managed to put air quotes around kung fu without ever raising his hands.

“You never know,” Leon said.

Brilliant.

Stephen ignored him. “No. I don’t do martial arts. I don’t run around on rooftops with a sword fighting assassins in black. I’m responsible for four hundred million dollars in assets. You know what I do?” He pointed to the phone. “I make phone calls. I answer emails. I look for suppliers and shipping companies. I analyze market projections. That’s what I do.”

Good that he mentioned that. “Did you analyze the Pit project?”

Stephen’s face shut down. “Reclamation of the Pit would provide long-term benefits to the entire Houston metro area. House Jiang recognizes its civic duty to our city and its people.”

“Did you memorize that?” Arabella asked.

“One more word,” I warned.

Stephen nodded at me. “Younger sister?”

“Yes.”

“I have one too.” He’d sank a world of meaning into it. “Let me simplify things. What do you need from me?”

“Honest, direct answers. I need to be able to speak with Stephen Jiang, the Prime and Pit Reclamation board member, not Stephen Jiang, the eldest son of House Jiang.”

Stephen sighed. “Fine.”

“Did you kill Felix?”

“No.”

“What was your opinion of the man?”

“I found him annoying.”

“In what way?”

“In that charming, be-my-friend way.”

“I’m not sure I completely understand,” I told him.

“Felix wanted everybody to like him. He was one of those people who try too hard. He wanted to share drinks and kept making inconvenient invitations to play golf together so we could all pretend to be a happy business family. I didn’t want to play golf with him. My plate is full. I wanted to finish this project, divide the profits, and move on.”

“What about Marat?”

Stephen grimaced. “The man has no manners, but he works hard and he’s sincere. There’s no artifice there. He’s driven by the need to take care of his family.”

“Tatyana?”

“A bull in a china shop. Fire is the solution to every problem, and if fire doesn’t work, try more fire. Elemental mages like us tend to approach all problems through the lens of their own magic, but she carries it to the extreme.”

“Cheryl?” I saved the most important for last.

Stephen frowned. “You watched the drama. Do you remember Han Min’s stepmother, the one who had the reputation as the living Guanyin, the Goddess of Mercy, but kept torturing her in private?”

“Do you think Cheryl secretly tortures people?”

“No, but I think there is an ulterior motive behind every action that woman takes. She’s a manipulative human being. When you criticize her strategy, she often makes you feel as if you are a bully, which isn’t a quality I look for in a business partner. Business requires a clear head and honest discussions of pros and cons.”

“Then why did you agree to this project?”

“That decision was made above me,” he said.

Cheryl had talked his parents into it.

“Cheryl and Felix were the driving forces behind the Pit Reclamation Project,” Stephen continued. “Felix brought in Marat and Tatyana. Cheryl invited my House. I was the last to join the board. Still, given the choice to walk into the swamp with one of them, I would take any of them over Cheryl.”

Clear enough.

“I have honored your request,” Stephen said. “You got honest direct answers. Now I would like one. What is the thing in the Pit?”

“You felt it?” I asked him.

“No, I felt the amount of water it displaced when I went to look for Felix the day after he died. It was a very significant amount.”

“It’s a Saito construct.”

He didn’t blink. He didn’t say anything. He simply stopped moving.

“It’s aware. It regenerates and expands. It’s enlarging the Pit to suit its purposes and it’s telepathically monitoring the humans on the site.”

A dangerous shadow darkened Stephen’s eyes. “Thank you for your candor, Prime Baylor.”

“I told you,” Arabella sang out as we walked out of the Jiang Tower. “I told you, I told you, I told you, and you didn’t believe me.”

“Yes, yes,” Leon muttered. “You’re so great.”

“I am great!”

He nodded. “And so humble.”

“Humble is for losers. I am a winner.”

Across the street, a flittering wall of glass that was the 2 Riverway Tower housing IBM, law offices, and the attached multilevel parking garage gleamed with reflected sunlight. A short driveway led to the garage, branching off from Riverway Drive. At the mouth of the driveway, leaning on his silver Spider, stood Alessandro Sagredo.

I released a breath I didn’t realize I was holding. Alive and in one piece.

Alessandro raised his head. Our eyes connected. He smiled.

Adrenaline rushed through me in a hot wave, prickling my fingertips.

“And here comes the Count,” Leon drawled.

I slowed slightly. “Leon?”

“Yes.”

“That’s not Alessandro.” He wore the right clothes, he had the right build and the correct face, and he stood the right way. But he wasn’t Alessandro.

“Are you sure?” Leon’s voice went cold.

When Alessandro looked at me, it was as if his world stopped. This man looked at me as if I were a pretty girl he’d like to screw.

“I’m sure.”

Leon faced the fake Alessandro. “Hey, dickhead. Your illusion needs work.”

The fake Alessandro jerked his hand up. The sun caught the stainless-steel barrel of a large caliber handgun.

Leon’s hands came up in a blur. The SIG and Glock firearms barked in unison, spitting bullets. The fake Alessandro collapsed.

Gunfire erupted, coming from all around us. Bullets scored the pavement. I grabbed Arabella’s hand and pulled her behind a black Mercedes parked on the street.

In the middle of the road Leon spun like a dervish, firing without taking aim.

Guns popped like firecrackers. A hoarse scream tore through the gunfire. Bullets punched the Mercedes and the sidewalk behind us. Arabella tried to rise to look over the hood and I yanked her back down. Leon’s guns fired in twin bursts. A man cried out, his fear-soaked shriek full of pain.

And then everything went quiet. The sudden silence was deafening.

I straightened.

Bodies littered the street, painting the ground with red, their guns next to them. At least half a dozen. No, more. The man to our left must have fallen from the roof, because his legs jutted at odd angles from his body, shattered. The woman to his left was missing a face. Nobody moved.

In the middle of the road, Leon watched as the illusion mage, still wearing Alessandro’s body, dragged himself down the driveway toward the parking garage. Two long red bloodstains painted the road in his wake.

Holy crap.

Leon methodically reloaded the Glock, then the SIG.

The illusion mage was still pulling himself away from the carnage, moaning as he slowly shifted his body forward.

Arabella counted the bodies with her finger. “Nine.”

The one-man SWAT team that was my baby cousin started forward. The mage heard him and frantically tried to crawl faster. A quiet desperate mutter came from him. “No, no, no . . .”

Leon reached him and kicked the mage over onto his back. The fake Alessandro squirmed. His body shimmered, melting, and snapped into Audrey. She looked at Leon with huge blue eyes, her heart-shaped, delicate face stained with tears.

Oh you scumbag. If Leon didn’t kill the mage, I would strangle that asshole myself.

Arabella clenched her teeth, her hands curled into fists, and started forward, then stopped. This belonged to Leon.

My cousin studied the petite girl on the ground.

“Please,” the mage pleaded in Audrey’s voice. “Please don’t hurt me.”

Leon raised the Glock and slowly took aim.

Audrey cried out, “You don’t have to do this. I have information, I can—”

Leon squeezed the trigger. The bullet bit between Audrey’s eyes. Her body melted into a large dark-skinned man in his fifties. The expression on Leon’s face made my stomach churn.

I pressed the car keys into my sister’s hand. “Get the car and call Sabrian, please.”

There were probably a dozen security cameras around us. I wouldn’t be surprised if Munoz was already on his way.

Arabella nodded and ran down the driveway into the parking garage where we had parked Rhino.

I crossed the distance to Leon. His tan face gained a green tint. He stared, unblinking, his eyes hollow. He looked dead. His arm was still raised, aiming at the corpse.

I put my hand on his forearm and gently pushed his arm down. “It’s over.”

He looked at me, his eyes glassy. “She’s still dead.”

“Yes. But he won’t hurt anybody else. None of them will hurt anyone ever again.”

He turned away from me and looked at the bodies as if seeing them for the first time.

Taking a life always hurt. It never went away, no matter how justified the kill was. It still cost you a piece of your soul and it hurt when that piece died.

A blur of green shot out of the decorative hedges on our left and smashed into me. Big scaly arms clamped around me and jerked me off the ground. I kicked my feet trying to break free, but it was like fighting in a straitjacket. Whatever grabbed me turned and ran. The buildings rushed past me.

Gunshots rang out behind us, Leon firing in a controlled frenzy.

Bushes loomed ahead. The creature tore through them, the branches raking my arms and face, and burst onto the bank of Buffalo Bayou.

It flipped me, and I saw it. It resembled a Razorscale, but built with reeds and metal. It had the same powerful tail and similar limbs, but where a true Razorscale had only two, this one had six, arranged in pairs along its body, and it towered over me, eight feet tall, not counting the four-foot tail. Its head swiveled toward me on a thick neck, a big beautiful flower with a single perfectly round eye in its center.

The Abyss had built a better construct. It was learning.

The creature clenched me to its chest and leaped into the muddy river. Water swallowed us. I flailed, panicking. The more I struggled, the tighter it held me. The beast shot through the river like a torpedo, the force of the water pressing on my face.

I would die in this stupid dirty river.

I clawed at the construct. It surfaced, spinning. For a moment there was air, and I gulped it, and then we were under again.

Another spin, a lungful of fresh air, followed by another dive.

It wasn’t trying to kill me. It was taking me to the Pit.

I spun my magic inside me, building it up.

The beast surfaced. I gulped the air and sang out a short high note. “Mine.”

The Abyss’ mind and my magic collided. The beast went under. Water flooded into my mouth. There wasn’t enough air. I clung to the construct’s matrix, grappling with the nebulous intelligence on the other end. It pondered me, stunned. Images flickered between us—Felix’s face, Felix facing the swamp, Felix asking, “Why are you here?” and the answer blazing in his mind in glowing numbers: “162AC.” More images, Cheryl, Felix saying in a weird echoing voice, “I found someone to take care of it,” a distorted image of Linus, and then me, wavering, as if I were underwater.

My air ran out. I knew I was thrashing, my body fighting on pure instinct. I poured all my magic into that connection, imagining me dying, imagining my limp body sinking into the muck of the river bottom, disappearing completely. I showed the Abyss the absence of me and sent a single focused torrent with the last bit of power in my oxygen-starved brain.

Stop!

The beast broke the surface in an explosion of foam, like a great white breaching, and hurled me forward.

Air, dear God, so much air.

I landed on my side on solid ground. Pain punched my injured hip and I barely noticed it, focused on sucking as much air as I could into my lungs. The Abyss hovered on the edge of my mind, watching.

Finally, I sat up, coughing. Water laced with mud came out of me. My mouth tasted foul. I looked up.

The Razorscale construct crouched by me on all six limbs. The white fringes of its petals shivered slightly, the turquoise eye staring at me with terrible intensity.

We were on some sort of muddy bank. Behind us and up, the sounds of traffic filled the air, so mundane it was surreal. I glanced over my shoulder. A tall concrete bridge towered over the river. It had to be Woodway Drive.

The construct leaned forward. Our eyes were inches apart.

Images slipped into my brain. I was sitting on a huge lily pad, bloodred flowers blooming all around me, glowing with magic. A tentacle slid through the water and dropped a fat fish in front of me. It flapped on the leaf, big mouth gasping. All around me the Pit sang, the splashing of water, the soft whispers of fish streaking under the surface of my leaf, frogs croaking, distant Razorscales bellowing, a bull gator roaring, birds singing . . . The Abyss serenaded me with the sounds of the swamp the way it heard them.

Its mind wrapped around me. No, not its. His. It was a distinctly male presence.

The view rushed over water to some buildings. A metal-tipped tentacle burst from the muck and pierced the guard standing on the walkway. The man convulsed, impaled through his stomach. A second tentacle wrapped around him and dragged him into the water, through the swamp, with dizzying speed, to where I sat. The tentacles lifted the body out of the mire and showed it to me.

All around me appendages rose from under the surface, some big, some small, some tipped with metal, others with long spindly digits. They filleted the guard like fish, dropping organs and flesh into the mire. The water boiled as fish and other things fed.

The appendages dipped the bloody remnants of the man into the water and pulled him out again, neatly separating the head and spinal column from the body. A massive tangle of plants surfaced, and the Abyss began to weave them around the head and spine. A larger, thicker appendage appeared, shaped like a bulb, opened, and secreted liquid metal onto the plants, wrapping it like a ribbon around the shape it was building.

Another thin tentacle thrust a glowing seed into the amorphous construct. Magic sparked and the new beast moved, its body tightening, flowing into a compact shape, vaguely familiar. The construct dropped onto all fours. It had four limbs, a long muzzle, a short tail, two floppy ears . . .

It looked like . . . It . . .

The Abyss had made a cow-sized version of Shadow for me and he put the dead man’s brain into it.

I recoiled. “No!”

The image of the Pit faltered and vanished. The Razorscale construct clamped its forelimbs on my legs.

Regina said that if a single matrix node survived, the Abyss could rebuild itself. That meant a matrix node could function independently. I had to break this one free of the Abyss or I would end up on a lily pad in the Pit.

I poured my magic into the creature’s matrix. My evil grandmother could’ve cleaved it free, Nevada too, but my magic seduced. It didn’t sever. I could only wrap my power around it and try to make it mine.

The construct pulled my legs, sliding me across the mud, as it backed toward the water. I swathed my power around it, tighter and tighter, layering it like an onion, trying to isolate the matrix node from the tendrils of the Abyss’ mind. If I let it get me into the water again, it would be over.

The creature yanked me toward the river.

I pulled it to me with everything I had. The Abyss clutched on to the construct, trying to wrestle it free from me. It was like putting a dog leash on a lion and trying to drag it. The Abyss was strong, so much stronger, but he was so far and I was right here.

I released my wings and they opened behind me, radiant with magic. I stared into the turquoise eye and sang.

“Sleep my child and peace attend thee,

All through the night . . .”

The construct stopped pulling.

“Guardian angels God will send thee,

All through the night . . .”

The Abyss’ hold on the creature was slipping. Both of them were listening to me, one seduced and the other fascinated.

“Soft the drowsy hours are creeping,

Hill and dale in slumber sleeping,

I my loved ones’ watch am keeping,

All through the night . . .”

The construct’s matrix buckled under the pressure.

I forgot the next part, skipped it, and kept singing.

“While the moon her watch is keeping,

All through the night.

While the weary world is sleeping,

All through the night.

O’er thy spirit gently stealing,

Visions of delight revealing,

Breathes a pure and holy feeling,

All through the night . . .”

The Abyss’ grip slid off the construct’s mind and vanished. The creature scooted closer to me, its flower glowing, and wrapped itself around my body, like an affectionate dog. Its metal scales vibrated, making a soft mechanical purr . . .

A body dropped from above and landed on top of the construct in a flash of orange magic. Alessandro swung and buried Linus’ sword in the creature’s eye. The construct fell apart into bands of metal and reeds.

Alessandro glared at me. “I leave you alone for six hours and this is what happens?”

I scrambled to my feet. “I had it! I took it away from the Abyss! You—”

He kissed me. The world spun sideways. A whirlwind of emotions tore through me—relief, need, want, outrage—and I didn’t know which one to pick. Outrage won.

Alessandro’s lips left mine. He squeezed me to him, a huge grin on his face. “You’re alive.”

“You killed my construct,” I ground out.

“You can’t keep it,” Alessandro said. “It’s bad.”

“Let go of me!”

I pushed away from him and swayed. He caught me. Alarm skewed his face. “Are you okay?”

The words fell out one by one. “Tired. Dirty. Wet. Hurt. Frustrated.” My brain suddenly came up with a complete thought and I spat it out. “Now? Of all the times you could have kissed me, you thought now was a good idea? I have mud and algae in my mouth.”

He grinned again, wrapped his arm around my waist, and half steered, half carried me up the slope to a narrow, paved sidewalk leading up the bank. My legs barely moved.

“Where were you?” I squeezed out.

“Busting Arkan’s HQ in Houston.”

“Are you okay?” He looked okay, but that didn’t mean he was okay.

“Yes.”

“Is Linus okay?”

“Yes.”

“Are they dead?”

“Some of them. The telekinetic wasn’t there.”

“I can’t believe you kissed me. You’ve lost your mind.”

“You were dragged off by a monster into the river. You can’t blame me.”

Oh yes, I could.

“What did it want?” he asked.

“Me.”

“It can’t have you.”

“It’s a he.”

“What?”

“It’s a he, Alessandro. He thinks he should. He showed me images.”

A hot spike of pain shot through my right hip. My leg folded, but Alessandro caught me.

“I can carry you.”

“No!” After that kiss, being carried by him was the last thing I needed.

We trudged up the sidewalk.

“What kind of images?”

“The impress-your-date kind. He showed me his crib, demonstrated that he was a good provider, and I wouldn’t starve, and then he showed me what he did for work, and how creative he was.”

Alessandro put his hand on my forehead.

“I don’t have a fever!”

“Did you hit your head?”

“No!” We were almost to the road. “He killed a guard and used the dead man’s brain and nervous system to make a five-foot-tall replica of my dog.”

“That might be the creepiest thing I’ve ever heard.”

“Yeah, it wasn’t a ton of fun to watch.”

We reached the bridge and walked onto the pedestrian access, separated from the traffic by a narrow barrier. Alessandro’s Spider waited just a few yards ahead.

“You should dump this on Linus.”

“That’s not how it works. He gave me the job, I’m doing the job. Besides, what is Linus going to do against a Saito construct?”

“What is that?”

“A construct that’s alive, capable of independent decisions, self-repair, and growth, physical and mental. It’s not supposed to exist, but it’s in the Pit right now preparing a lovely lily pad for me and feeding dead bodies to fish to fatten them up so he can serve them for dinner.”

Alessandro stopped. I leaned on him, resting all of my weight on his arm. It was that or kiss the pavement with my face.

“Is this what the rest of your life is going to be like, Catalina?”

“If I’m lucky.”

“I’m being serious.”

“I know you are.”

“Giuro! Mi sembra di parlare al muro.”

Uh-huh, talking to me is like talking with a wall? Okay. “Da che pulpito!”

He opened his mouth. Nothing came out. I had just demanded to know from what pulpit he was delivering that sermon.

Alessandro finally recovered. “Ma sai parlare italiano?”

Duh. I answered in Italian. “Did you think you’re the only person in the world who can learn a foreign language?”

“How long?”

“For years.” I learned so I could read his Italian posts. “If you’re wondering if I understood all of your mutterings and curses, and every time you called me your treasure or your angel, I did.”

He looked like he was about to have an aneurism.

I slumped onto the Spider’s hood. I would have to fold my battered body into that tiny car. I switched back to English. “Would it kill you to have a normal-sized car?”

Alessandro opened the passenger door and all but stuffed me into the seat. He got in on the driver’s side and we were off.

He pressed a button on the steering wheel and said, “Call Leon.”

What?

“Did you think you are the only person who can call your cousin from the car?”

Leon’s voice spilled from the speakers. “Did you find her?”

“I have her. She’s okay, but I’m driving her to Dr. Arias.”

Leon swore quietly, the relief plain in his voice.

“Are you okay?” I asked.

“Yes. Don’t come back here. Half of Houston PD is here and Sabrian is in beast mode.”

“She’s going to need a change of clothes,” Alessandro said. “She’s due at Victoria Tremaine’s in ninety minutes.”

He remembered.

“I’ll send some over with Beetle. I want her in an armored car. Keep her safe.”

“I will,” Alessandro promised.

Leon hung up.

“How did you even find me?”

“I will always find you,” he said. “I told you, Catalina. I won’t abandon you.”

He said it with complete sincerity, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. He’d come for me. Even if the thing dragged me into the river, he would find it, kill it, and pull me out. If the Abyss took me into the Pit, Alessandro would follow and bring me out.

Nobody besides my family would ever do that for me.

The realization of that was too big for me to deal with. I slumped on my seat. “Just tell me.”

“I was there when you made the arrangements with the Primes, so I knew where you would be. Once Linus and I finished, I drove to House Jiang and ran into your cousin and your sister. I saw the trail leading to the river, realized that it was dragging you back to the Pit, so it would be heading northwest against the current, and drove to this bridge very fast.”

“Why do you have my sword?”

“It’s not yours. This is mine. It’s a gift from your . . . supervisor.”

I glanced at him.

“He said it was the prototype of the prototype. He thought I might need it.” Alessandro grimaced. “Aside from the null space, it’s a shit blade.”

“He usually makes ranged weapons.”

“I noticed.”

Houston slid by outside the window. Alessandro reached over and squeezed my hand. I squeezed back.