6.

“So you did it without Grace,” Asanti said.

“Yeah, we did,” Sal said.

“Getting better at hitting?” Asanti said.

“Well, at least talking,” Liam said.

“And done in three hours,” Asanti said. “That’s a short conversation for you, Liam.”

Menchú’s eyebrows rose.

“What did I do to deserve that?” Liam said.

“You know I mean it with love,” Asanti said.

Team Three was back in the Archives, discussing with Asanti the final details of the book they’d brought back. As she talked and asked questions, she wrote quickly in a notepad.

“One more question,” she said. “Did you ever discover who activated the book in the first place?”

“No,” Menchú said. “Even the trail of figuring out who rented the apartment went cold.”

“Someone to do with the black market,” Liam said. “I still have a few people I can ask about it, but I’m not expecting anything.”

“I can ask, too,” Asanti said.

“I’m sure you can,” Liam said with a laugh.

Sal looked from Asanti to Liam and back again. Had they always talked like this, about their connections to criminals, to illicit activities that undermined the Society’s mission? Had they kept it under wraps for the first few months she was there, or was she just noticing it more now? It was hard to remember.

“Well,” Asanti said, “I have to get home to my family. To think in the past year we’ve almost seen a city or two destroyed. It’s nice to know that sometimes it still comes down to someone misusing a book. Seems almost quaint now, doesn’t it?”

Menchú, his arms folded, studying Asanti, said nothing.

“And the building is back to the way it was?” she said.

“Uh-huh,” Sal said.

“And the people who live in the building?”

“No risk to anybody or anything now, it seems,” Menchú said. “No need for any team but ours.”

“I’m delighted this all wrapped up so fast,” Asanti said. “And so clean.” She got up and headed toward the stairs. “Good night, all of you.” Even in the chipper mood Asanti was in, though, Sal caught her sparing a moment to shoot glances at the new cameras in the room. The archivist still hadn’t gotten used to them.

None of the other three moved. They waited for Asanti to make her way up the spiral staircase and close the big wooden door at the top.

“Well,” Liam said. “Asanti seemed pleased. Maybe a little too pleased.”

“Meaning what?” Menchú said.

“She had such good information, right from the start,” Liam said. “And certainly a spring in her step when we closed the case. There are always loose ends to these things …”

“Maybe this time the loose end is her,” Menchú said.

“I have my suspicions too,” Liam said.

“But this mission isn’t a reason to open an investigation,” Menchú said. “First, we have no real evidence that she was anything other than helpful. And if it was an experiment of hers, she did the right thing by helping us fix it. Even the magic seemed … I hate to say this, but more benign than usual.”

“Give her enough rope, then?” Sal said.

“I’ve never heard that expression before,” Menchú said. “But I think so, yes.”

“So it’s all tied up?”

Menchú nodded.

“Good,” Liam said. “So now I can ask: Did anyone else hate this mission as much as I did?”

“Why did they have to like being possessed?” Sal said. “Why did it have to seem like we were ruining their lives to set them free?”

No one spoke for a moment.

“It was a drug for me, pure and simple,” Liam said. “A bad one. I carved a path of destruction across this planet, for myself and those around me. I did damage I can’t undo. There’s no doubt about that. But now that I remember what I did, I can’t shake the feeling of those first few days, even those first few weeks. The madness we got up to. We were awake for five days straight. We partied in four different cities in three different countries. I was so young, so full of it, but I was so ready, too. I don’t remember everything—how could I?—but when I’m back there, it’s a blur of music and lights and sweaty bodies, and dashing for cabs.”

He let out a small chuckle.

“Oh, yes—and running from cops. We were in London by then, at a party in a warehouse that was illegal from top to bottom. We shouldn’t have been there in the first place, and the things that were going on in there … well. It must have been about five in the morning when the police raided the place. All of a sudden, there were flashing lights and bullhorns everywhere. We thought it was part of the party and cheered. Then, when it dawned on us that they were there to put us in jail, we ran. I remember diving out a window with a mate and hitting the ground outside, hard. We bounced off the pavement, were on our feet, and dashed away.”

He was silent for a moment.

“I know what I did during all that time. I know what I’m responsible for. But the thing that’s hardest to face is that early on, I loved it. I really did. And even when I knew how bad it was getting, there was still that feeling, that rush. I couldn’t let it go. I didn’t want to. And if I’m honest with myself, I still don’t. Even with what I know now.”

Liam’s voice dropped. “I’m not proud,” he said. “I’m ashamed. I hate it.”

Sal felt the rage in her uncoiling, fought at first to tamp it down. Then realized there was no point.

“I’m sorry,” Sal said. “I wish I could be more sympathetic.”

“Excuse me?” Liam said.

“You can’t be the martyr in your story,” Sal said. “You’re the perpetrator. I’m sorry you feel bad about what you did. But you went looking for something and you got it. I didn’t ask for what happened to me. I didn’t ask for the Hand to crawl into my head, crawl into the inside of my body. Possession was a drug for you? For me, it was nothing but violation. I was ready to die rather than face another minute of it. I tried to throw myself off my balcony. Did I ever tell you that?”

“No,” Liam said.

“The only reason I failed was because the Hand stopped me. He froze every muscle in my body just as I was heading over the rail. I got a good look down into the alley below, the parked cars, the black pavement. There were lines in the street that some construction workers must have painted. Want to know what I remember feeling? Sadness. Sadness that I couldn’t be down there, my skull broken into five pieces. I know what it looks like when people jump out of buildings. I know what happens. It’s why I knew it would be so effective. And he took away even that.”

“But you beat him, Sal,” Menchú said.

“I wish it were that simple,” Sal said. “But I stopped believing in that particular line of thinking long ago. I don’t think anyone beats anything. We never get over it, we never put it behind us. There’s just learning to live with it.”

“But you’ve learned to live with it so well,” Menchú said. “You too, Liam. You’ve both taken what’s happened to you, what you’ve done, and used it to make you stronger.”

“It doesn’t feel that way,” Liam said.

“Well, it looks that way from where I am,” Menchú said. “I see it in what you say. I see it in your actions.”

“You’re saying we’re better for having suffered?”

“I would never say that,” Menchú. “I’m saying that I admire you both, every day, for the way that you continue to live your lives, after what you’ve been through. And when I am feeling weak myself, I think sometimes about what you two might do, and it helps me to be better.”

Liam blinked. “That’s the nicest thing anyone has said to me in years,” he said.

“Well, don’t get used to it,” Sal said.

“Believe me, I won’t,” Liam said.

Sal could tell that Menchú wanted to say more. Something was on his mind, eating away at him. She considered pushing him on it, but thought better of it.

“So,” she said, “who do you think opened that book?”

“Who knows?” Menchú said.

“My guess?” Liam said. “We’ll never find out.”

• • •

Menchú left the Vatican to clear his head. It was a habit he was beginning to fall into. After the mission, after the briefing, after they’d sifted through the details for scraps of knowledge, tactical lessons, he found a little time away helped. The streets of Rome—the collisions of ancient and modern architecture large and small, the tourists and harried businesses, even the street vendors selling cheap hats and selfie sticks—brought him a strange clarity. A reminder that there was life outside of what he was doing. Life outside the Church.

“You remember what the foreman said, right?” a voice said behind him.

Menchú turned. There was another girl at his side, this one in a school uniform, a backpack slung over one shoulder. But there were the same pale, pale eyes. A pang of fright passed through him. He took a deep breath to calm himself.

“About what?” he said.

“About the world. That it may not survive if they do not do their work.”

“I remember,” Menchú said.

“It’s not an exaggeration. There is a great project that is in danger of failing.”

They were walking down a busy street, surrounded by people. No one around them was paying attention, and Menchú realized how normal they looked, how anonymous.

“Is that why you’ve killed so many people?” Menchú said.

“We are on the same side,” Hannah said.

“I don’t believe you.”

“It’s not important to me whether you believe,” Hannah said. “What is important is that you continue to play your part. Do this, and all will be well. I’ll even help you.”

“I don’t want your help,” Menchú said.

“But Father,” the girl said, “you need it.”

Menchú looked down at her, intent on giving Hannah a piece of his mind. But the girl’s eyes began to darken to a chocolate brown. Her expression changed, and she began to cry. And Menchú felt some of the old horror and rage, all over again, even as he knelt down to help.