“What are you going to say to him when you see him?”
“Nothing. I’m going to find a quiet nook and jump him—it’s been ten days, Roselle. Ten!” She holds up both of her hands and spreads her fingers wide. “How about you? Have you and Hawthorne . . . ?”
My cheeks flood with color. “Nope.”
“He’s still holding out on you? I have to hand it to him, the boy has willpower.”
“Way too much.”
“Make Hawthorne forget about caution. Show him that sometimes you have to take risks to prove you’re still alive.”
“You’re right.” I power down the Anthroscope and take off my headset. We disembark.
The smile on my face evaporates. Agent Crow stands in front of the airship. He walks the length of it, passing me, with his hands behind his back. When he gets to the nose, he turns his eyes toward me. At least ten more inky kill tallies curve from their corners on either side of his face, and now he also has them notched on his neck. They’re thin, but together they represent a seriously frightening number of dead bodies. He presses his finger to the Anthroscope and trails it along the length of the airship’s body, stopping in front of me again. “Roselle Sword.”
“Agent Crow.”
“You never show fear, do you?”
“Why should I fear you?”
He leans near me and sniffs loudly. “I smell it on you, though. You’re afraid.”
“That’s wintergreen. You should have one.” I raise my package of breath mints.
His steel teeth grind, but he presses on. “Did you know that it’s been a year since Census was attacked here at the Stone Forest Base? It took us a while to sift through the bottom level of our underground facility. It was a swampy mess of muck and water from the lake. They just recently uncovered my quarters. I’ve been away, living beneath the Platinum Forest Base. Are you familiar with it?”
“No.”
“It’s in the Fate of Stones. But I’m back now, and I wanted to let you know.”
“I’m sure the Fate of Stones will miss you terribly.”
“You’ll also be pleased to know that I’ve recovered a certain item that had been lost to me.” He pulls back the side of his black coat and shows me my fusionblade in the sheath at his side. The St. Sismode crest is unmistakable. He has had it restored; there’s no outward damage that I can see.
A part of me still aches to take it from him, but not a large part. My identity was so wrapped up in it a year ago. Since then, I have come to accept some of the things that I cannot change. This is one of them. Or maybe it’s because I have more now—I have friends who love me. I manage a genuine smile.
“I guess I’ll always know where it is. You should really try the new sword we designed.” I take my dual-bladed sword from its scabbard and ignite it nonthreateningly. “We’re coming out with an upgrade in the next few months. It should be a top seller. And, you know, Salloways really are the best weapons now.”
He makes no move to take it. Maybe he knows that I could cut him in half without even trying. “They uncovered the vault room,” he says. “Some items that were in it have gone unaccounted for.”
I extinguish my sword and replace it in its sheath. “You had a vault?” I ask. “I thought you just used your lair to torture unsuspecting young women. Did they steal all your belts?”
He leans back, watching my body language. “No, but we did find a severely decomposed corpse of a young woman. We can’t account for her. But it’s her copycat moniker that intrigued me most. Do you want to know why?”
“I love a good mystery.”
“The last moniker she cloned belonged to Holcomb Sword. Remember him? Twisty mustache . . . MP . . . stationed at the detention center . . . on duty and servicing your cell the night you were there . . . the night of the explosion . . .”
“Huh. He sounds familiar, but it’s been so long . . . I couldn’t be sure.”
“Oh, I’m sure, Roselle. It was Holcomb Sword who released you from your cell in the morning.”
“If you say so,” I reply.
“I do say so.”
“I think what you have there is called a coincidence, Agent Crow.”
“In my line of work, there are no coincidences. She had other cloned monikers on her, but the one still inside her had his identity.”
“Who else’s did she have?” I ask, like we’re gossiping and I want all the juicy details. “You know who I’d want to be, if I could clone someone?” I turn to Hammon. “Strato Hammon, that firstborn singer who just ran away with that really good-looking Diamond who sings that song I like?”
“Sarday?”
I snap my fingers. “Yes! Sarday!” I turn back to Agent Crow. “Did she have a cloned Sarday?”
“You really are very clever,” he replies. “It will be such a triumph when I have you all to myself.”
“If you’d like me all to yourself, you’ll have to clear it with my commanding officer, Clifton Salloway. Otherwise . . .”
“You think he can save you?” Agent Crow leans in near my ear. His breath is warm against the shell of it. “He can’t.” With his hands behind his back, he walks away.
“I hate that guy.” Hammon shivers. “He makes my hair stand on end.”
“He’s a psychopath.”
“You attract all the fun ones, Roselle,” she replies. “Here comes another one now.”
Hawthorne strides over from an airship that just docked. Gilad and Edgerton are with him. He looks from me to Agent Crow’s retreating back. He lurches in the direction the agent went, intending to go after him. I grab his arm and hold him back.
“Hawthorne, no!”
He turns to me, and for a moment, there are pain and anguish in his eyes. It’s Agnes. He still wants revenge for what Crow did to her. “When did he get back? What did he want?” Hawthorne growls.
“He wanted to let me know that he’s returned,” I reply. Hawthorne is visibly shaken. I’ve still never told him about stealing the monikers. I won’t make him my accomplice.
“I won’t let him hurt you. I’ll kill him first.” He once told me men like Crow never give up. I can tell he’s thinking about that now.
A shudder travels down my spine. I focus on Hawthorne’s stormy expression. My heart melts a little, and my worry loses its sharp edge. I’m not alone anymore. I have him. I stroke Hawthorne’s arm. “Please don’t let him spoil your homecoming,” I murmur. He gazes at me, and his shoulders ease. He relaxes and loses some of his anger. “Did you have a good flight?”
Hawthorne and Edgerton reply in unison. “No.”
“I have something planned for all of you that will alleviate some of your stress,” I reply. “If you’ll all follow me to Deck 227, I’ll show you the surprise.”
“I thought it was just a surprise party for Hawthorne,” Edgerton interjects.
“Nope,” I reply. “I missed all of you. Even you, Gilad. So come this way . . .” I gesture and start walking. Hawthorne catches up, his hand brushing mine. That one small touch sends an electric current through my body. My knees feel weak.
“I missed you,” he says, so softly that only I can hear.
“What, no date nights while you were gone?”
“No. This really pushy soldier I know spent all my extra merits financing dual-bladed swords for my unit.”
“That’s unfortunate,” I reply. “I’d loan you some of mine, but I used them all for the same purpose.”
“I guess we’ll have to figure out our own date night then.”
“Way ahead of you.”
“Where’re we going, Roselle?” Edgerton asks.
We take a heartwood down to the lower deck and step off into a sea of soldiers. Hawthorne uses the cover of the crowd to take my hand. His strong fingers thread through mine. I want to wrap my arms around him. “We’re just over here,” I call behind me. I raise my moniker to the scanner. A steel door opens into a private shooting range. Hammon closes the door behind us.
It’s quiet, the walls soundproofed. I hand everyone eye protection. “What about ear protection?” Gilad asks.