The moment the van crossed the sensors, the iron gate retracted on squeaky wheels. Hannah peered at the street beyond. She’d only experienced the outside world once before, for a quick but crazy eighty-one minutes. She wasn’t ready for more trans-American culture shock, but the fears of moving forward were just a gentle breeze compared to the nightmare behind her. Her safe little limbo, her Ellis Island, had been irreparably breached. She never wanted to go back.
As the vehicle idled in front of the sliding gate, the actress nervously tapped her fingers. She glanced out her missing door, then froze in the light of a familiar face.
“Oh my God.”
“What?” Zack asked.
“That’s him.”
“Who?”
“The guy who gave me my bracelet. He’s standing right there.”
Zack leaned in to Hannah’s vantage as the Silvers in the back peered through the shattered window.
Azral returned their gazes, still as stone. He wore a white oxford under a sharp gray business suit that was peppered with London rain. Even at twenty yards’ distance, his blue eyes popped with eerie vibrance. To Mia, he was the most terrifying thing of beauty she’d ever seen in her life—part vampire, part archangel, and (God help her) part David. He shared the boy’s small nose, bright eyes, and flawless symmetry, but there wasn’t a shred of kindness in his expression.
Hannah fumbled a hand in Zack’s direction. “I think we should—”
“Yeah.”
The passengers kept a fretful watch behind them as Zack lurched the van through the gate.
“Is he doing someth—”
The sound of crashing glass and metal suddenly filled their ears. Zack jumped in his seat.
“What happened? Are we hit?”
“It’s the other back door,” said Mia. “It fell off.”
Zack checked the damage in the rearview mirror. “He’s not following us?”
David shook his head, his eyes slitted in busy thought. “He appears to be letting us go.”
The van turned left onto a narrow suburban road. Theo peeked through the gateway. “Hannah, what did you say that guy’s name was?”
“Azral.”
“That’s what he told you?”
“That’s what you told me,” Hannah replied. “Right before your coma.”
Czerny mumbled something faint. Amanda leaned in closer.
“What did he say?” Mia asked.
“I don’t know. I couldn’t make it out. I don’t think he’s—”
“Pelletier,” he repeated. “His name’s Azral Pelletier.”
The passengers fell quiet for the next sixty yards, until Zack aimed his wide stare at Czerny.
“What?”
—
Krista Bloom staggered back into the lobby, still reeling from David’s assaults. Her head throbbed beneath her ski mask. The sounds of the world filtered in through a teakettle shriek.
Through the dancing spots in her vision, she saw her fallen teammate by the reception desk. She checked his wrist for a pulse. Nothing. It was hard to muster sympathy. The man in the Roosevelt mask had been a pariah among his people, banished long ago for unconscionable acts of cruelty. Rebel had offered him a spot in this mission as a chance to earn his way back into the clan. Krista found it sad that the path to forgiveness was carved through the murder of innocents. These were desperate times. Frightening times.
The glass doors swung open. Krista could make out the MacDougals. She had to squint to identify the unconscious figure they carried between them. The Motorcycle Man was just one violent incident away from becoming another exile. He’d been such a sweet young boy. But as he grew older—faster—his good nature and sanity withered away. Krista noticed from the freakish way his nose bent that it wasn’t just his mind that had snapped.
“Will he live?”
The brothers replied with a grim stare. She wasn’t sure if that meant yes or no. They weren’t his biggest fans either.
“Well, did you at least kill any of the breachers?”
The freckled twin shook his head. There was no point in asking for details. The MacDougals hadn’t spoken a word since they were eighteen. Their vow. Their sacrifice.
“Damn it! How could this have gone so wrong?” Krista pressed her collar mic. “Ivy?”
No response. Her blond brow furrowed. “Ivy, are you there? Talk to me.”
After attempting to call the other missing teammates—Rebel, Gemma, Slim Tim—Krista read the worry on the brothers’ faces.
“No. No way. Ivy wouldn’t leave us behind.” She wouldn’t leave me, Krista thought.
“Oh, but she did.”
Startled, Krista spun back to the reception desk, where Esis sat atop the polished marble. She dangled her legs off the desk, kicking her feet like a bored child.
“Your friend has departed the premises, along with her niece and the stubborn ape she mates with. Foolish creatures, all of you. I grieve to call you ancestors.”