“What do you know about Sunai?”
The Malchai stilled. A shadow flickered across the planes of his face before they went smooth again. He tilted his head, considering her. But he couldn’t lie. “They are as different from us,” he said, “as we are from the Corsai.” His nose crinkled when he spoke of the shadow beasts. “They can appear human, but it is not their true form.”
Kate frowned. There had been no files, no footage of the monsters in another shape. What did a Sunai look like, behind its skin?
“Is it true they feed on souls?”
“They feed on life force.”
“How do you kill one?”
“You don’t,” said Sloan simply. “The Sunai appear to be indestructible.”
“There’s no such thing as indestructible,” said Kate. “Everything has a weakness.”
“I suppose,” he acquiesced, “but if they have a weakness, it does not show.”
“Is that why the other monsters fear them?”
“It is not a matter of fear,” snarled Sloan. “We avoid them because we cannot feed on them. Just as they cannot feed on us.”
“But you can be killed.” His red eyes narrowed, but he said nothing, so she went on. “How many are there?”
The Malchai sighed, clearly tiring of the interrogation. “As far as we know, there are three.”
Only child?
Youngest.
“The first, Leo, is known to all,” said Sloan. “He fancies himself judge, jury, and executioner.”
“Have you met him?” asked Kate.
Sloan’s expression darkened. “Our paths have crossed.” He unbuttoned his collar, pulled the shirt aside to reveal sickly blue-white skin raked with scars, as if someone had try to claw their way through the bone shield of his chest.
“Looks like he won,” said Kate.
“Perhaps.” A rictus grin spread across Sloan’s face as he touched a single, sharp nail to the place above his eye. “But I left my mark.”
She had seen a recent photo of Leo, seen the narrow scar that cut through his left brow like a piece chipped from a statue, the only blemish on a flawless face.
“And the other two?”
“The second Sunai made the Barren.” Kate’s eyes widened. She’d seen the dead space at the center of the city, heard about the catastrophe, the hundreds of lives lost, but she’d assumed it was the result of a force, a massive weapon, not of a single monster. “She is bound to her tower by the truce.
“The third,” continued Sloan, “is a mystery.”
Not to me, thought Kate, clutching the phone.
She could see the truce was failing, knew it was only a matter of time before it broke. The monsters were restless, and her father’s attention was drifting again to the Seam. The Sunai had always been Flynn’s best weapon. If they could be hunted down, if they could be killed, even captured, South City wouldn’t stand a chance.
Sloan was still watching her. “You are very curious tonight, little Katherine.”
She met his gaze. “The more you know,” she said casually, grabbing a drink before retreating to her room. Once inside, she locked the door, and considered the phone.
She could give her father this, the identity of the third Sunai . . . or she could give him something better. She could give him Freddie Gallagher.
Show him that she was a Harker to the core.
Sloan’s words sang through her mind.
You will always be our little Katherine.
Kate held down the delete key and watched the photos vanish, one by one by one.
Not anymore.
August wanted to crawl out of his skin.
They walked back to the compound in silence . . . well, he walked back to the compound in silence. Leo was preaching. That’s how August thought of it, when his brother gave one of his sermons about the natural order of the world. As if there was anything natural about them. About what they’d just done. He could feel the man’s blood drying on his fingers. Could feel the man’s soul swimming in his head.
“Your problem, August, is that you resist the current. You fight against the tide instead of letting it carry you. . . .” Leo’s black eyes were rimmed with light and bright with zeal. But at least when he got like this, he wasn’t forcing August to answer questions about his hunger, his thoughts, his need to feel human. “Just as you fight against your inner fire. You could burn so brightly, little brother.”
August shivered, cold to his bones. “I don’t . . . want to . . . ,” he said, teeth chattering. This was the opposite of hunger. This was worse.
“Stop being selfish,” said Leo. “We were not made for want. It has no place in us.”
It has no place in you, August wanted to say, because you burned it out.
They reached the compound, passed the guards, and stepped into the elevator. He clenched his teeth as it rose, afraid that if he opened his mouth, something would escape. Maybe a sob, or a scream. The man’s life was buzzing inside of him like bees.
What have you done to me?
What have you made me do?