And that was the trigger. I released the mental defenses I’d desperately been holding on to, and just like that, a new power filled me. Natalya. Two energies connecting within one form. The power overwhelmed everything else in me, shorting out the command, the white noise that had been dulling my mind. With the force of two Effigies, I stomped on Jessie’s hand, pinning it to the dirt. She gasped in pain, but she was strong too; she managed to slip her hand out from under the pressure. While she dragged herself away, my fingers curled around the steel band on my neck, and with a grunt, I tore it off.
“Shit,” I heard Jessie swear. One could never underestimate the power of adrenaline. Despite the pain from her gunshot wound, Jessie dragged herself to her feet and began running as fast as she could to the river alone. And I was about to go after her. That was the plan. But . . .
It was as if a tidal wave had drowned me. Two energies suddenly torn out of balance.
I should have known.
This was never going to be a partnership.
“No, stop!” I doubled over, grabbing my head with both hands. “Stop . . . stop!”
I was . . .
I . . . I . . .
. . . . . . I . . . . . .
Air filled my lungs. Sweet and dense. I was alive again. Back into this body.
I was alive.
“Maia? Maia, what’s going on?”
That voice.
Quietly, I turned my head.
And saw him.
Feeble. Burned.
Kneeling in front of me.
The hilt of my sword formed first from the elegant dance of flames, that cool, familiar grip. The tip was last, buried in the grass. The cold sensation that tingled through the skin. That horrid wildness I’d been taught to suppress my whole life now quivered through my bones.
“Aidan,” I whispered.
Aidan heard the girl’s voice but knew immediately that it wasn’t Maia who’d spoken. For one passing moment, his arms were limp at his sides. He sat still, helpless—that is, until the panic finally settled in. His skin paled. His body shook. The fear of death gripped him.
“Oh god,” he breathed. “Oh god.”
What must it have felt like for him to see the large, beautiful eyes he loved wet with bloodlust? I could hear her screaming, fighting inside her own mind. It wouldn’t take long for her to return.
But this wouldn’t take long either.
Aidan was already leaning back, his wide, terrified eyes locked on my sword as I raised it high above my head. Zhar-Ptitsa. He knew its name.
“It’s okay.” Tears streamed down his cheeks—and strangely, tears streamed down mine as I aimed to murder the man I’d once called a friend. “It’s okay. Do it. Do it, Natalya.”
My hands shook above me.
“But . . . I didn’t want to.” The words trembled out of him as the tears wetted his lips. “I didn’t—you have to know that. I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.”
I hesitated. Why was I hesitating? Why?
“Maia?”
“Agent Rhys! Ms. Finley!”
“Aidan!”
“Aidan! Oh god, Aidan!”
Figures were rushing toward us. Agents. I recognized some of them. Director Prince’s eldest son, Brendan Prince, was among them and—Naomi. She was barefoot, running toward us with her high-heeled shoes in her hand, but she stopped the moment she saw me, saw the sword I lifted.
“I did everything I was asked,” I called out over the noise. “I did everything, but you . . .” I lowered my arms, the tip of my sword touching softly against the ground before my hands started to shake. “You . . . Why didn’t you protect me?”
I fell to my knees as Zhar-Ptitsa faded into embers that brushed past my body and fluttered with the wind into the moonlit night. My time was up. She was coming.
Closing my eyes, I let the darkness take me.
? ? ?
The story was that an anti-Sect gunman had infiltrated the estate looking to murder Blackwell. Blackwell’s wounded body and the shattered windows were proof enough, though it didn’t stop questions from being asked. Dignitaries left the fund-raiser quickly while journalists scurried to put together their news reports.
I sat on the front steps of Blackwell’s estate, my dress torn in places, my body wet with sweat as I watched the ambulance take Rhys to the nearest hospital for his burns.
Rhys.
“Natalya,” I whispered as the bright sirens disappeared into the night. “You . . . weren’t lying to me after all.”
Each word plummeted to the floor like a stone. I had to fight to keep from following them. My limbs felt weak, my mind blank but for the memory of Rhys pleading for death at Natalya’s hand.
I was wrong about everything.
I touched my lips, lips that had touched his, my fingers trembling. Liars and traitors were everywhere. I was surrounded by them. Brendan had taken the shattered steel neck-band in as evidence, and I was to be sent to the London facility immediately to check out the back of my neck. But even though I needed to know what had happened to me, I couldn’t trust them. I couldn’t run away either. I couldn’t hide. What could I do?
I lowered my head into my hands as soon as I felt the tears budding.
“Maia.”
Lifting it again, I looked down the line of parked cars in front of the estate. Naomi called me from the back of a sleek black Rolls-Royce. She waved at me to come over.
“Are you okay, Mrs. Prince?” I asked once I finally reached her.
The window was down, but she kept the door open. That didn’t mean I felt welcome coming forward. Naomi sat rigidly in the backseat, her long, sleek black hair draping down her chest like a blanket.
“Somewhat. I’m still shaken.”
I could see that. Her pale hands trembled against her lap.
Did she know? About Rhys?
“Mrs. Prince . . .” I looked around, making sure nobody could hear me, and lowered my voice. “The last time I scried, Natalya told me to talk to you. She gave me your name specifically.”
“She did.” It was something between a statement and a question.
“What Natalya said to you earlier . . .”
Naomi’s bottom lip curled inward. “Yes. Come inside.”
I hesitated but eventually listened. Whatever Natalya blamed her for, she’d sent me to Naomi for a reason. The woman shifted over to make room. Once I was inside, she rolled up the tinted windows. We were alone.
“Please tell me you know something.” I gripped the back of the passenger seat. “What the hell is going on here? Saul is out there. Jessie said something big is gonna happen. And he’s got people helping him, soldiers with abilities like him, like us, but I don’t know who the hell I’m supposed to trust anymore.” My eyes watered as I thought about Rhys, our kiss. The burning sensation still hadn’t quite disappeared from the back of my neck. “The Sect—”
“Can’t be trusted,” Naomi finished quietly. She kept her expression calm as she looked up at me, but she couldn’t bury the urgency in her eyes.
I frowned, studying her carefully. “Who are you?”
Her features were stone as she answered. “A member of the High Council of the Sect,” she said. “From one of the so-called Seven Houses.”
“Seven Houses . . .” I pressed my back against the door. A member of the Council. Suddenly, I realized why her voice sounded familiar. She’d spoken that day in the cathedral when Blackwell had made me pledge allegiance to a broken institution on my knees like a servant. Hers was the only voice of reason, of kindness, among those that filled the hall with jeers.