The Queen of Blood and Rage held their lives in her hands, and she had done so since before they existed. It didn’t matter if they agreed. She owned them. If she didn’t find them worthy . . . He shook his head. Years ago, he’d asked his handler what would happen if they didn’t want to be Sleepers.
“She’ll have me kill you,” Clara said as easily as if she were speaking about the weather. “Maybe another in the unit would be elevated, but the queen prefers seven members in your team. We’d need to import another Sleeper or eliminate the whole cell.”
“All of us?”
“It wouldn’t be the first time. There was an earlier version of the program. It wasn’t successful.” Clara met his gaze. “Do you want to be a Sleeper, Zephyr?”
“I do,” he lied.
“Do you live and die to serve the Queen of Blood and Rage?”
“I will,” he said. If it meant keeping his friends alive, he’d be the most devoted Sleeper there was.
“It’s for the best if you keep this conversation to yourself,” Clara added. “We wouldn’t want the others to get the wrong idea about you or about their queen.”
“I live for our queen, Clara.” He straightened his shoulders. “That’s exactly what the others will know: the truth. I live for her, and we do serve her will.”
And that was that. He had to be devoted to the queen, or he’d die. His friends would die. They had to be faithful in order to live—and he would keep them that way.
Every one of them had been raised knowing about the Sleeper Program and why it mattered. Humanity had already had their chance to be the caretakers of the world. They’d failed. Glaciers melted. Cities were lost to the sea. The whole of one continent was evacuated. After one chemical company went unpunished for toxic disposals, other companies began stealthily exporting their waste, and soon all of what was once called Africa had become too contaminated for people. Whole species of animals were wiped out; others were critically endangered, no longer existing anywhere aside from zoological parks. Africa had become a global trash dump. Its displaced citizens were integrated into other lands—most often Ausland and the South Continent. Humanity had failed.
And then, as if their pollution wasn’t crime enough, they had assassinated the royal heir.
The Queen of Blood and Rage decided to strike back. At her order, the fae had bred and surrendered their young to be placed in the homes of people of influence across the globe. They’d allowed their children to be raised as humans, living in a world of disease and decay, because they believed. They’d sacrificed their own children because they’d believed. His real parents had believed enough to send him here, and Zephyr couldn’t let them down.
Clara had explained repeatedly that their people were counting on him and the rest of the Sleeper Program. The humans had far outnumbered the fae, and the fae who had come forward openly were slaughtered. So the queen had turned to guerrilla warfare. The Sleepers were only one facet of her master plan. He saw the results on the news. There was a small city on the southern coast that was taken by the sea. Almost every casino in Vegas had been attacked by poison funneled into air ducts simultaneously; the death count there was high. Old Dublin had a siege of rats carrying the bubonic plague, and Chicago had been set to burn by over five hundred lightning strikes that were undoubtedly fae in origin.
The attacks weren’t regular, and the media tried to explain them away, but the tabloids were filled with truth in this case. They cut through the government explanations and acknowledged that the Queen of Blood and Rage was steadily targeting humanity—and that humanity was defenseless.
The queen was merciless when angered, and Zephyr hoped that he wasn’t going to anger her tonight.
“I’ll let you know how it goes,” he told his teammates. “Right now, you better concentrate on getting well. No more of this, Creed.”
Creed didn’t speak, neither agreeing nor refusing. He simply stretched in the sunlight, absorbing the nutrients it offered. Later, he’d do the same with the moon. Creed and Will were creatures of air, just as Zephyr and Alkamy were of the earth. Zephyr’s second affinity, metal, was peculiar in that it was only recharged via fighting. Alkamy had also started to show a second affinity, but hers was air. Consequently, unlike Zephyr, she could find nutrients from the sun and the moon, as well as from the soil. Violet was fire, so she drew from the sun as well. Only Roan and Zephyr weren’t able to be healed by sun alone. Roan needed water, and Zephyr needed soil.
Zephyr stroked the plants nearest him.
Creed drew his attention back to them by asking, “How was the explosion?”
Zephyr flopped down on the ground, shucked his shoes so he could feel the earth against his skin, and brought both Creed and Roan up to speed on the explosion, Lilywhite, and the difficulty of what to tell the queen.
He did not, however, tell them about the kiss. He didn’t admit that he was more stunned by the way she’d kissed or that she looked momentarily terrified when he called her Seelie. He didn’t tell them that she’d fled from him. Lilywhite was a mystery to him, and until he figured out more about her, he’d be keeping that mystery to himself as much as he could.
twelve
LILY
Lily felt out of sorts as she walked through the administration building and down that over-wide, shadowed hallway. The stone murmured under her feet; the heavy bass voice of it felt like a monastic chant that soothed her nerves. Sometimes Lily felt bad for people who couldn’t connect to one of the elements, but then again, they weren’t breaking laws simply by existing.
After several minutes, she found Hector inside a surprisingly modern office. “The campus gates should have been closed after we entered. She could’ve been—”
“Hector,” Lily cut him off.
The headmistress had a pinched look as she turned to face Lily. “We take security very seriously here at St. Columba’s, Miss Abernathy. The gates are in place for a reason. They keep threats out, but you should know that wandering into Belfoure alone is not something we recommend.”
“I understand,” Lily said, tactfully avoiding any admissions.
Hector shot her a look that made quite clear that he knew what she was doing.
“Well then,” the headmistress said. She cleared her throat delicately and told Hector, “Miss Abernathy seems to be safe after all.”
“Maybe the school ought to consider guards,” Hector suggested, his gaze fastened on Lily as he spoke. “I could help you set up a patrol route, Mistress Cuthbert.”