Chapter Nine

“SO, IN MY vision,” Harry explains, “which I guess are things I get now, I dreamed about a ruin in a jungle. Not like a hidden ruin; there were signs in English and tourists all over, people walking around with cameras. And then I saw a bunch of…horrifying shadows emerging from the ruin. I woke up, and guess who called me?”

Her relaxed tone doesn’t lead Ravi to become too alarmed, but nevertheless he says, “You have no idea how much dread that question filled me with.”

“Sorry, yeah. With our track record, right? Ikshana called.” She gives Ravi finger-guns and smirks. “Direct line to the Chosen, nice play. They got a vision very similar to mine, said we should handle it directly, and gave an exact location. Weirdly, they said even though it’s going to be a critically important problem for us to solve, it should be a low-key mish. Not that I don’t agree that fortune favors the prepared,” she adds, toeing the drag bag Ravi set by the door.

“Please don’t kick that. These jets are expensive.”

Nate laughs nervously. “You didn’t actually bring grenades, did you?”

Ravi looks at him, expressionless. Then winks. Nate relaxes and turns away, smiling as a flush creeps up his neck.

“Anyway,” Harry continues, eyes flicking back and forth between them. “This is good for us. The seer contacting us directly cuts out the middleman, and the Chosen’s team gets a reputation for sweeping in and fixing problems before they’re even reported to the top brass. This is advantageous because…” She looks at Ravi expectantly.

“Because Harry’s position is extremely precarious right now.” He leans back into his chair with his arms folded. “It’s been nearly a decade since the last Chosen, and nobody has any idea how the urumi got to her. Rumors are flying. Some families suspect a trick or a trap, that somehow the Choosing has been falsified. The more evidence mounts that Harry truly is Durga’s Chosen, the more good she does, the better off we’ll be for the Gala next month.”

Ravi would rather chew glass than attend yet another formal Trust event, but this one is going to be the most important one he’s ever faced. The introduction of Harry McAllister as the new Chosen One to the Trust families. His aunt Padme’s been busy setting it up for weeks.

“The more people convinced that her claim is legitimate, the more we’ll have on our side.” Of course, there’s one surefire way to secure Harry’s place—just seven little steps around a fire. But Ravi hasn’t brought up the marriage talk just yet, and Harry hasn’t pressed the issue either. They’re not going to be able to dance around it much longer. By tradition, even their engagement alone will get them more access to intel and resources than they currently have.

“My claim,” Harry mutters under her breath. Then she straightens, pulling her hair into a high bun. “Saving the Manhattan branch and then fixing today’s mystery problem? Gonna make a strong impression. We should really write Ikshana a thank-you note.”

“I quite liked that comely platinum beanpole,” Constance says cheerfully. “Doth you know how long it has been since I’ve been tupped?”

“Tupped?” Ravi isn’t familiar with the word, not even sure if it’s English.

Nate coughs as if covering a laugh, going floridly red. “Tell you later. Constance, I can introduce you to some folks.”

She looks dubious. “Are any of them guaranteed to not be demons in disguise?”

“I guess you could throw holy water at them before you take anyone home.”

Constance brightens. “A fine idea.”

“I bet there’s people into that,” Harry says, slouching down into her seat. “A little Exorcist roleplay.”

Nate makes a face. “Gross, McAllister, have some class.”

She flings a quarter at him.

“Where in Indonesia is the ruin, exactly?” Ravi asks, rolling up the sleeves of his lightweight linen suit, tucking his pant cuffs into waterproof combat boots, and making sure the ceramic knife hidden by his ankle is secure. His drag bag does in fact have a few explosives in it along with his rifle case, just in case 9mm and knuckle dusters aren’t enough for whatever “combat light” scenario they’re going to be walking into. Not for the first time, he envies the easy portability of Val’s magic maul.

“Uhhh, Boro-something.” Harry checks her phone. “Borobudur.”

“Oh shit! That’s the world’s largest Buddhist temple,” Nate exclaims. “I’ve always wanted to go, this is great! Y’know, assuming there’s not some ravening beast we gotta take down there. If there is, we cannot damage the temple. It’s a World Heritage Site.”

“And a Trust network waystation.” Everyone turns to look at Ravi except Val, who keeps gazing out the window over the white blanket of cloud tops. “They’re scattered all over the globe,” he explains. “Places where local contractors and volunteers gather information on the supernatural in the area, and where field agents can stop and resupply in case of emergency. Waystations were more vital hubs before satellites and cell phones, but they’re all still in operation.” He checks his handgun with quick, practiced motions. “I’ve never been to this one, but we’ll find a contact who will know what’s going on. They should be able to direct us.”

“Okay, that actually sounds pretty cool,” Harry says. “Is there a super-secret spy way to tell who the contact is?”

“Yup.” Ravi smiles and leaves it at that.

She tilts her head to one side with a tiny smile of her own. “You’re in a good mood today.”

Ducking his chin, Ravi turns his attention back to his ammo clip.

Constance rubs her hands together. “I profess I am greatly looking forward to seeing this hallowed temple. All things in America be so new; it shall be a pleasant thing indeed to see some remnants of true history still around. Like myself.”

“I could have teleported us there.” Now it’s Val’s turn to get stared at.

Harry says, “You’ve been to Borobudur before? Which is a fun new tongue twister I’ve just invented and trademarked.”

“I have existed for over a thousand years.” Val doesn’t turn, still gazing out at the clouds. “I have worn other human forms. I have been to many places in the world.”

“Val,” Nate pleads. “I know you don’t like us to pry, but I need to ask again, for the sake of anthropology: please, please, please let me interview you.”

Finally turning, Val regards Nate for a long moment. “I will consider it.”

Nate’s grin is radiant. It takes a second for Ravi to realize Harry is speaking.

“Well, we already got the jet, Val, but good to know. Don’t suppose you’ve also been to Manhattan before we flew there?”

“I have.”

Harry pinches the bridge of her nose. “Okay, well, in the future if you ever want to volunteer to take us via the Angel Express, you can offer. You’re allowed to offer things. Or to ask for things.” Ravi glances between Harry and Val. This has the weight of a long-continuing private conversation.

Val’s only response is a slow nod as she turns back to the window, watching clouds swirl around silver wings.

*

BOROBUDUR IS THE largest tourist attraction in Java, and the temple is predictably awash with sightseers. All the easier for them to blend in with the crowd: a colorful sea of tourists, pilgrims, and students of various ethnicities and faiths. A few people pose in front of the carved andesite reliefs, mimicking Lord Buddha’s descent from heaven, while others conduct themselves more respectfully.

“Look for a tiger,” Ravi tells the team as they ascend the steep stairs onto the next terrace. Only Harry and Val are really paying attention to him, as Constance and Nate keep getting sidetracked with sightseeing. Nate’s phone has got to be reaching its memory limit, with the number of pictures he’s taking.

“Whoa, whoa, there are tigers here?”

“No, that’s Sumatra, not Java. But I meant an image of one. There will be a carving or a painting, something like that. It’ll mark our contact.”

“The tiger’s a Durga thing, right?” Harry fans herself with both hands; the temple stones absorb sunlight, and the lower levels are hot and sticky without the benefit of the breeze higher up.

Ravi gives her a reproachful frown. “Have you done any research into the goddess who has Chosen you to be her living avatar? At least look at a Wiki?”

Harry slings an arm over Ravi’s shoulder as they weave around a group of wannabe influencers taking pictures of each other on the bell-like stupas despite ample DO NOT TOUCH signage. “Look, the fact I know even that much is pretty spectacular for an until-recently adamant atheist. Take what you can get.”

Ravi sighs. “The tiger is Durga’s vahana, her… The translation is vehicle, but that falls way short. He’s Durga Devi’s spirit animal, her connection to rightness of purpose, to her divinity. He’s a symbol that she protects virtue and destroys evil.”

Harry eyes Ravi with an odd sort of calculation. “Symbols are important.” She taps her fingers a couple of times on his shoulder, as if in thought, before she points her chin toward an isolated stupa. “A tiger like that?”

Ravi follows her gaze. A bald man in saffron robes sits in prayer pose on a rolled-out tapestry, a stylized tiger depicted in the design. “Nicely spotted, detective.”

The group gathers up, Constance grinning ear to ear and chatting merrily to an equally enthused Nate. His eyes are practically sparkling as he launches into an animated lecture about the temple’s history. Ravi tears his attention back to the robed man.

He passes Val up his heavy sniper kit bag in unspoken request. She hikes the bag onto her shoulder without hesitation. Ravi approaches the monk, motioning the team to stay at his back. He kneels with a deferential nod. “I trust you know the way.”

The monk raises his head. “Trust is answered in kind,” he says in barely accented English. Tourists move around them, oblivious. “How do you stand?”

Ravi’s hit with a little unexpected wave of nostalgia. He hasn’t visited a waystation since he was in training. “Unflinching.”

The monk regards him. “You must be related to the Field Director.”

Ravi hides an exasperated sigh. “Oh?” A little odd that his aunt has visited before; waystations are for field agents.

“The cheekbones are distinctive. I am Suharto.” Suharto bows slightly, hands together.

Ravi returns the gesture. “Ravi.” The man isn’t an agent but a volunteer; given names are appropriate. “My team. Freelancers.” In other words, not regular agents who will know all the ropes.

“Ah, specialists. Most fortunate. Are you here to help?”

“Absolutely,” Harry cuts in. “Help with what?”

“It will be easier if I showed you.” The monk gets to his feet, dusting off his knees. “This way.” He leads them up, almost to the topmost terrace, around a more secluded area of the temple complex. Ravi takes note of the way the man moves, of the lay of his robes. Likely unarmed but knows his way around a fight.

Nate sidles next to Ravi as they follow along. “That was so cool, dude. Real secret agent stuff. The crow flies at midnight,” he whispers, eyes darting shiftily, then relaxes into a grin. “Also? Spy monks. Hell, yeah.”

“You’re easily impressed, Doc.” Ravi has a hard time wrangling back a smile. “Let’s see if you can keep that energy up through the security measures.”

Nate’s smile drops. “Security measures?”

“Nothing crazy,” Ravi quickly reassures him, regretting making that golden smile disappear.

Suharto stops in front of a well-worn wall tucked away behind a large statue, takes a swift glance around for onlookers, and twists an innocuous brick. The wall swings inward to a stone staircase heading down.

It descends to a small entry room, built of rune-etched steel with a bulletproof glass partition, like most waystations. Safely ensconced behind it, a second monk is frantically flipping through the pages of a large book. This monk appears to be getting on in years, and blinks up owlishly through thick, round spectacles.

“Now that’s quick.” While Suharto sounds Javanese, this monk has a perfect Yorkshire accent. “I haven’t even sent in the report yet! Are you here about the malfunction?”

“Malfunction?” Ravi asks. “In a waystation?” There should be field bunks, a stock of MREs, and a weapons cache for visiting agents. Aside from a secure uplink to The Trust’s hubs, there shouldn’t really be anything to malfunction here.

“Right,” Suharto says firmly, “security first, questions later.” He motions toward a narrow opening in the glass partition, and the older monk sets aside his book to open a small wooden trunk, intricately carved, its copper banding gone green with verdigris.

Ravi nods encouragingly back at his team and sticks his hand through the opening. The monk removes a bottle of clear liquid from the trunk and sets it aside. Then he draws out a series of long needles, some metal and some not, and lays them all out side by side.

“Uh.” Harry and Nate echo each other in uncertainty, and Constance shrinks back into Val, who sets a supportive hand on the witch’s shoulder.

“It’s just to make sure we’re human.” Ravi looks to Val, with her dark glasses and statuesque frame. She has a mostly human body. “Should be fine,” he says, and holds his hand outstretched, palm up and fingers relaxed.

With practiced efficiency, the monk pricks the meat of Ravi’s fingertip with the first needle. “Silver,” the monk explains as he continues piercing skin with the other needles, testing fingers at seemingly random. “Then iron, then this one is solid salt—sorry, that one’s the worst—and this one gets a dip in holy water first. Good so far.” He gives Ravi a grandfatherly smile as he twitches through the sting of the salt. “This one to pierce through illusions. Looks good! And this one to verify truth.” The last needle is a sharp-honed wooden splinter. Instead of drawing it quickly back out, the monk leaves it in the meat of Ravi’s fingertip as if it were for acupuncture.

“Your name?”

“Ravi Abhiramnew.”

“Designation?”

“Field agent of The Trust.”

“Are your intentions here to cause any ill will or harm?”

“No.”

Usually, the truth compulsion ends there with those three questions. But the monks share a look, then the older one asks, “How is it you came to be here right when we discovered we had a serious potential disaster on our hands?”

“A Trust seer told us we should be here.” The words are drawn from Ravi like poison from a wound. He frowns down at the wooden needle on principle. He would have told the truth anyway, but it’s an unsettling feeling, the compulsion extracting truth without the mind’s volition.

Suharto makes a small exclamation of surprise. The older monk simply nods and says, “Well, I am not one to look a gift horse in the mouth. Time is a factor, so do you vouch for all your companions here today?”

“Yes. I trust them with my life,” he says, and whether it’s the needle or his own choice to say it, it hardly matters.

Constance clucks her tongue softly. “Bless,” she says in a tone usually reserved for baby animals.

The monk removes the needle. He wipes a tiny dot of ointment over Ravi’s pincushioned fingertips that tingles briefly, a familiar brush of healing magic Ravi knows well from Constance’s ministrations.

“Appreciate it.” The weathered monk waves away his thanks.

“This way,” Suharto beckons, leading them back to a pair of elevators. Once they all pile in, he digs out a card from the saffron folds of his robes and pops open a panel at head height. “One moment, if you please.” He leans in, placing his hand over a black screen while a tiny blue light flickers over his face.

“Oh my god, I knew it,” Nate exclaims. “Retinal scanner. So cool.”

“This is higher security than we met at the other branch,” Val says with clear approval, handing back Ravi’s bag as the elevator starts to descend.

“This isn’t a waystation, is it?” Ravi observes.

“Not just a waystation, no. We do have separate facilities for agents on errantry, but we are first and foremost a secure hazardous materials site.”

“Hazardous materials?” Harry gives Ravi a warily inquiring look, but he can only shrug in response.

The elevator comes to a halt, and Suharto keys in a code before the doors slide open. A set of steel vault doors opens with a prolonged hiss, like an airlock, and they are met with a draft of cool, nearly refrigerated air. The space beyond is made up of rows upon rows upon rows of brightly lit glass cases, varying in size, like hundreds of museum displays crammed together in one place.

“Welcome to the Ossuary,” Suharto says. “We keep the bones of monsters Trust agents dispatch in the field. As well as a few recovered remains of non-violent supernatural entities that are nevertheless quite dangerous if stumbled upon. Everything secured in this facility can’t be destroyed by mortal means—some beings are too resilient, or regenerate if left unchecked.”

Ah. This explains why Ravi’s aunt has been here; it’s a vital resource of a kind Ravi had only ever speculated on the existence of before.

“Wait,” Harry says. “Don’t monsters melt when they die?”

“Beings from other realms do,” Nate says, almost whispering, as if on hallowed ground. “They don’t last long on this side of the Veil. But if Earth is their native soil…”

Constance stops in front of a case, mouth agape. “Are these dragon teeth?”

Suharto joins her. “Indeed, well spotted. I’ll admit, that’s one of my favorites in the collection. A small dragon was ravaging the coast of Liberia. It killed three agents before it was taken out.”

“Dragons are real, check,” Harry says, peering over Constance’s shoulder.

“Aye. And the teeth of a dragon sown in fertile ground will grow a band of fully armed earthen warriors. Or so I’ve heard,” Constance adds hastily.

Nate walks from case to case with a dazed expression. “This is…” He glides along as if in a dream. He’s practically lit up from within, leaning in close to the glass and absently patting his shirt pocket, looking for glasses that aren’t there.

“There’s so many,” Harry breathes, looking down the long labyrinthine halls. Ravi wonders if anything the twins killed is here. Or anything he killed.

Beckoning again, Suharto takes them to the furthest row. “The heart of our problem lies here. This whole wall is kept under special protection. You’ll notice the protection glyphs?” Faint green markings cover the face of the glass, flickering unsteadily. The remains inside look unsettlingly human, each vacant skull in a grinning leer. Suharto taps the glass, his face deeply grooved with concern. “They’re drawn in basilisk venom, and meant to be much brighter, keeping the bones in stasis. But something has disrupted them. We haven’t had time to determine what, perhaps a dissolving compound, or a counter-spell… Honestly, we don’t have time to investigate. By the rate of decay, the glyphs will be rendered inert in three days’ time.”

“What are these bones?” Nate asks. “They appear hominid.”

“A breed of lesser demons. They regenerate completely if their remains aren’t controlled.”

Nate steps back, taking dozens and dozens of cases into his field of view. “Wow. That’s…a lot of demons.”

Harry sets her hands on her hips. “So, you just need to redraw the glyphs? Strengthen them back up?”

“That is the other problem,” Suharto says grimly. “Our supply of the venom is gone.”

Ravi frowns. “What happened to it?”

“We have no idea. We have a supply chain we can requisition from, but there’s very little chance they can get five gallons of basilisk venom to us in under three days. By then the glyphs will have degraded completely, and the demons will be able to reform themselves. Our only option is to call in as many field agents as possible in the narrow time frame, and set up a perimeter to take out as many demons as we—”

“Okay, wait, back up.” Harry holds up her hands. “We’ll just get you some more! Seems like that’ll be way easier than cordoning off the whole temple. Logistical nightmare.”

Suharto shakes his head. “Basilisk venom is a highly controlled substance. Dangerous and rare.”

“Are we going to have to milk a basilisk?” Nate sounds equal parts excited and alarmed.

“Hey, what you do for fun is none of my business, Doc.” She regards the cases thoughtfully. “Rav, think you can put in a call? To our buddy with all the rings?”

“Ah. Yeah.” Ravi takes out his phone and asks the monk, “Do you get cell service down here?”

“Do we get…” Suharto blinks. “Actually, if you stand near that case over there, the thunderbird skull has been known to boost signals.” The case in question is a freestanding floor-to-ceiling display of an enormous bird skull.

Nate practically vibrates with excitement. “A real thunderbird?” He darts in for a look.

Dialing up Calvin Guinto, Ravi puts the call on speaker. The broker’s voice comes through tinny and nervous. “Uh, hey. Hi. Hello. You, uh…you need something?”

“Basilisk venom,” Ravi says by way of greeting. “Can you get it?”

“Basilisk…yeah, I can get my hands on some. How much you need?”

“At least five gallons.”

“Okay, so, a lot. I’m pretty sure…yeah, still yes, I got you covered. It’ll be pricey though.”

“Money isn’t a concern.”

“My favorite words in the English language,” the broker says fervently. “You called the right guy. I can get all of it by the end of the week.”

“We need it today or tomorrow at the latest.”

A long pause. “Y’all never want anything simple.”

“Can you do it?”

A heavy sigh. “I’ll need to call in some favors, but yes. If your teleporting Wonder Woman can lend a hand, it’ll be even faster.”

“I can,” Val says. “The place where we met in battle will be an acceptable rendezvous.”

Constance leans over the phone and shouts, “Hello, Calvin! This is Constance. I was the wolf. Do you remember?”

“Pretty sure he can hear you, Constance.” Harry shares a disarming little “whaddya gonna do” shrug with Suharto, who appears both perplexed and mildly amused at the turn of events.

A nervous laugh. “Uh, I remember, yeah. Gang’s all there. Cool, cool. I’ll text as soon as I get the stuff. Meet me there with a big, repeat big, briefcase of money.”

Ravi rolls his eyes. “Little clichéd.”

“Well, you don’t get into this line of work unless you enjoy a little theatricality, brother. Need anything else?”

“Not at the moment. Thanks.”

“Thank you.” Ravi hangs up.

Harry claps her hands together. “All settled, Suharto. By the way, I’m Harry McAllister.” She extends a hand then immediately draws it back, apologetic. “Oh sorry, Buddhist, right? That’s not a disguise, is it?”

“It certainly is not,” Suharto says mildly. “I appreciate the gesture though, Miss McAllister. I prefer not to shake hands, and it is also not customary to thank others for their services. If I were to offer thanks for your generosity, that would imply that you have done it to receive something in return. Even if only my humble thanks. I would not disgrace you in such a manner.” He grants a small but sincere smile.

“Read ya loud and clear.” Harry grins back. “In that case, you’re not welcome.”

“Another mission nearly in the bag.” Tearing himself away from the skull, Nate throws the group a double thumbs-up. “We’re crushing it.”

Constance putters around from case to case, though she always seems to end up back at the dragon teeth. “I confess myself greatly curious, how old is this place? I am sure ’twas recently—what is the word? Ah, yes, updated—but how many centuries does this facility go back?”

“Oh,” Suharto replies, “the Ossuary was only added to the waystation since Borobudur’s restoration in the 1970s.”

Harry turns to him in disbelief. “You’re telling me all these monster bits are only from the last forty years?”

“Whoa,” Nate says in a hushed voice, staring down the long aisles. “And just the ones they couldn’t destroy.”

Ravi doesn’t get why they are so surprised. “The Trust deals with a lot of monsters.”

“Well, yeah, but…huh.” She blinks, looking around with renewed interest. “Val, wanna help me coordinate basilisk goo drop-off with our friend here?” Harry and Val step aside with Suharto, but not before Harry calls over her shoulder, “You don’t have room for a bunch of tooth soldiers, Constance.”

The witch wrinkles her nose and finally abandons the dragon teeth case to join Harry, a little sulkily.

Ravi stays back. He watches Nate inspect case after case, his nose nearly touching the glass. As Ravi approaches, Nate glances up with a blinding smile. “This is hands-down the coolest thing I’ve seen from The Trust to date, my guy. You must have had anthropologist input during the construction here. Climate controlled atmosphere, archival lighting. Everything is top notch.”

“We spare no expense.”

“No kidding.” Nate takes Ravi’s elbow and drags him a few cases back, to the huge raptor skull. That wickedly curved beak looks like it wouldn’t have much trouble taking off a grown man’s arm. “Smart to keep this secure. My research suggests the skulls of thunderbirds can electrocute people if touched.”

“Yeah?” Ravi isn’t looking at the skull. Nate’s got that lit-up look again, eyes the clear blue of a mountain sky. It’s chilly in the Ossuary, far too cool for Ravi’s light linen suit, but the warmth of Nate’s hand travels right through the fabric.

“Makes sense, if you know the myths. In the Sioux tradition they’re called Wakinyan, powerful sky spirits that control storms. They’re said to protect people from evil, but also can punish the same people for not paying the thunderbirds enough respect. They also— Sorry,” he says sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. “Nerded out a little.” He glances at Ravi sidelong, cheeks pink.

Something flutters in Ravi’s belly. “I’ll bring you back here later, if you want.”

“Yeah?” Nate grins at him, a bright, golden thing, and Ravi forgets where they are for a moment. He quickly tears his gaze back to the thunderbird, a faint buzz running through him. Is the skull giving off electricity?

“Yeah. You can take pictures, notes, whatever you want.”

After a slight pause, Nate’s voice goes soft, almost layered. “I would really like that, Ravi.”

“Hey fellas, you ready to rock and roll?” Harry sidles up between them, slinging her arms up as high as she can reach over their shoulders. “We might as well get to gettin’. Val can teleport to Cal from anywhere.” She lowers her voice. “And I’m pretty sure Constance is close to figuring out how to bust into that dragon tooth case.”

“Yeah, we’re ready. Let’s get topside before Ravi has to fight a vengeful monk.”

Ravi snorts a laugh.

*

LATER, THE SUNSET meets the towering emerald palms of the surrounding forest, casting a warm glow over verdant hills as they all sit together on the steps outside Borobudur. The nearby museum has closed, and they have the stairway to themselves, watching tourists pile into buses down below. The air grows heavy and still as the sun lowers, but no one makes the first move to leave.

“This is nice,” Harry says with a note of surprise, clearly not just talking about the spectacular view.

“A fine thing,” Val agrees, “to see such a vast number of vanquished evils kept safe and well-guarded by those pure of heart.”

“Yeah,” Harry says thoughtfully. “It is.”

“It’s mostly like this.” Ravi punctuates words with expressive movements of his hands. “The Trust is dedicated to the eradication of evil and the safety of mankind. It’s not all…money and politics. It’s centuries and centuries of people joining together and fighting the good fight. A sacred charge. There are places like this all over.” He motions out at the sweeping vista, trying to illustrate the scope of their influence.

Harry gnaws her lip. “Doesn’t seem like it was such a great culture to be raised in.”

“That’s…” He winces, scrubbing a hand through his hair. “My situation was…a special case.” He takes a fortifying breath before looking up at Harry. “I’ve got some ideas on how to make that better. For the next Chosen.”

She doesn’t blink. “Still not quite ready for that conversation.”

Ravi nods. Nate shifts next to him, leaning in a little closer.

“But yeah,” she continues. “This has been good to see. Educational. Are we all heading back to the jet, or do you feel like teleporting instead, Val?”

Val shrugs, seemingly indifferent.

“I quite like flying,” Constance chirps. “I know not how you all behave so cavalierly at soaring through the air like the very birds themselves. I shall never grow tired of it.”

Harry grins. “Yeah, that’s because you’ve only been on private G5 airplanes, doll. Being crammed in economy is a whole other story.”

“It seems this modern age makes every wondrous thing an uncomfortable mundanity.”

“Preach, sister.”

Nate leans back on his hands. The sunset catches in his hair, picking out threads of gold. “Crazy to think that if we hadn’t been here, there’d be tons of demons busting out of here in a couple days.”

“It is good work,” Val declares. “I enjoy battle, but a bloodless victory is no bad thing.”

The breeze kicks up for only a brief moment, bringing with it the lush scent of green. Harry scrapes strands of hair from her damp neck, piling it all up into her bun. “So, most of The Trust doesn’t know about the Chosen? Just the old families?”

“Not these days, no. Since the consortium was formed—”

“The consortium,” Harry groans. “I’m getting sick of hearing about that. Seems like everything used to be pretty cool before those rich assholes got together and started changing things.”

An odd pang strikes Ravi’s chest.

“What? The rich asshole thing didn’t rub you the wrong way, did it?”

“No, no. You just…reminded me of my mom.” He clears his throat. “Yeah. The Chosen has been kept secret from all but the inner circle for the last couple centuries. It’s supposed to be…safer.”

“Safer. Right. You think that’s the only reason?”

“I…” He gives the question the consideration it deserves, taking his time. “Confident people,” he says with a glance at Nate, “are harder to control. A Chosen with friends and allies to support them isn’t as easy to guide as one who’s…on their own.”

You may want to ask your little friends if they’ve been keeping any secrets from you, dearest.

And at the one tiptoeing memory of Cayenne’s silk-slick voice, others start tumbling forward, one after another, like a shoddily propped cairn of stones beginning to fall.

I’m going to make The Trust what it should be, Ravi had told Cayenne.

You can’t, pet, they said. You can’t change it.

Everything’s kind of your fault, cher.

If you’d just trust me, you’d be so much happier.

Nobody can give you what I can.

My beautiful broken boy.

Harry kicks out her legs, elbows propped on the steps behind her. “We’re definitely talking about collusion now, right? Someone with access to that boneyard wanted to compromise it, and we can safely assume they had chronomage help. That’s twice now that they’ve known exactly where to strike The Trust to do the most harm. Seems a little tricky for the Pepper to manage on their own. Not impossible, but really fucking hard.”

Ravi takes a breath, righting himself, shoulders squaring. “I agree. It supports my aunt’s claim about factions. Someone is trying to weaken The Trust from within, create opportunities to gain control.”

“What do you think their next move’s gonna be?”

“I’m not sure,” Ravi hedges.

“C’mon man, you’re my general. You know this world. We don’t think you’re some secret Machiavellian jerk just because you know how to think like one.”

Harry is an unerringly good detective, and Ravi is speechless for a second, trying not to puff up with pride. Her general.

“Well… If it were me, I’d lay low until I figured out how my enemy was anticipating my moves. Probe into areas I believe to be weak. Try to separate my enemies or set them against each other. See what I could leverage from the shadows. I’d gather up as many allies from opposing factions as I could; everyone who has profited most from the long gap in between Chosen, and anyone who benefits from the uncertainty. And then I’d wait until an opportune moment to strike with overwhelming force.”

Harry leans her head so far back it knocks into a stone step. “Fuck, okay. How can we guard against that?”

“I have an idea,” he ventures, “but it’ll have to be a conversation for the two of us.”

“Ah,” she says, then grins. “I hate diamonds. I want something pretty and colorful. But no rose gold, I will fucking walk if I see a whisper of rose gold. That’s some basic bitch shit, miss me with that.”

Ears hot, Ravi glances away with an embarrassed snort.

Nate chips in, “It hasn’t come up yet, but Harry and I think someone is helping us too. Keeping Cayenne’s plans from sticking.”

“Yeah. I’ve been chewing on that.” Cayenne had taken down a powerful crime boss who could open magical doors to anywhere. They’d destroyed generations of predatory vampires in one fell swoop to free up their weekend. I could do so much worse, Cayenne had said, and Ravi didn’t doubt it was true. So why didn’t they? Why hadn’t they?

Harry gives Nate a significant look, her brows angled. He shrugs back at her, and she asks Ravi, “Any idea who?”

“Not even seers can predict what a chronomage will do, so…no. No idea. Maybe James? But the last time he traveled back to warn us about Lucy, it almost killed him. He’s not built for chronal manipulation the way Cayenne is.” He sighs. “So, I have no fucking clue.”

Val grumbles, “Unseen enemies and unseen allies.”

“I mislike it as well,” Constance agrees. “Mayhaps ’tis the same entity who sent the weapon to Harry, mayhaps not. We possess far more questions than answers.”

“We’ll figure it out,” Nate says with a buoyant confidence that leaves no room for doubt. “We’re getting closer all the time.”

I feel like it’s all going to be torn down, no matter what I do, Ravi had told Nate.

Maybe so, he said. But I don’t think that’ll stop you for long, sunshine.

You’re going to do great.

If I can help in my nerdy little way, lemme know.

“Maybe it’s Durga.” Nate smiles, giving Ravi’s shoulder a gentle bump. “Answering some prayers.”

Anyone who says love hurts isn’t doing it right.

Slowly, Ravi smiles back. “Better late than never.”