The musky scent of an abandoned building met Arthur as he followed the Secret Service through the narrow hallway. Agents had brought him to this remote black site just outside of Washington, DC, to bargain for shared intelligence and Arthur had obtained a pledge of support from the President in rooting out corruption within the UK.

  Impressively, President Leo Campell had reversed the card and asked for his own help and resources at MI6 to impart what they knew about US corruption. He’d met with him on one or two occasions, but only now was he seeing the value of having a man of principle like him in the American’s Oval Office.

  His decisive leadership provided a way forward rather than getting tied up in important but minor details in the long run. Still, those details had to be addressed at some point, and responsibility had to be taken. He reached up to adjust his tie, enchanted and covertly sent to him by Merlin to obstruct sensory types of scrutiny.

  Entering the elevator of the black site to reach the bottom level, he only offered polite greetings to the guards he passed. Four floors down, they took him until they arrived in the well-guarded medical detention wing, where a Secret Service agent opened the door through a password, biometrics, and vocal recognition before closing it to give them privacy.

  Arthur stood at the entrance for a time, throat tight and mouth a line as he observed the young man he’d known since his birth; he took some time to process the sight in front of him. His oldest friend’s son was dying, and despite the drama between them, he never wanted harm to come to his son.

  His gaze slid to the man sitting in the corner, invisible to the Secret Service agents or the camera since it was a magical projection that bypassed light. Moving to Galahad’s bedside, he looked at the bandages covering the corrupting burns that festered, still sinking into the knight’s soul, breaking down his holy defenses.

  Keeping his back to the camera as Merlin wove the silencing spell so they could speak, Arthur’s hard blue eyes lifted to the deceptively young wizard. “Rachel did this in a single blow? There is something unique about her that I can’t wrap my head around after everything I’ve investigated with the Scarlet Hand.”

  Arthur’s jaw tightened. “You still haven’t told me how you knew The Oscillation was going to happen decades prior to garner your support. Last I knew, you were a college professor advising the military. Now you’re an MI6 agent?”

  Merlin grunted, leaning against his staff to rise to his feet, joining him to stare down at the legendary pure hero. “I’ve been through a lot in my lifetime… I’ve seen things that link the Scarlet Hand back to events in World War I, but that’s not important right now…

  “I’m sure you’ve met Rachel… I’ve trained Galahad to become the perfect knight since he was a child; only a few days had passed, yet Rachel found a way to go so far beyond what anyone thought possible. Apparently, even the Scarlet Hand’s expectations were thrown out the window since they ran with their tail between their legs. Hmm. I had planned on this being the trigger that unlocks his own Legend Quest, where we would finally have answers…and now he might die. Dammit.”

  His hard, pink eyes lifted to stare at him. “Galahad was Level 10… I’d tutored him since he was young to counter the Scarlet Hand. You know how capable he is—yet that hare was at an entirely different level. If nothing is done, he will either die or be corrupted by…whatever this is.”

  “The power of Yomi,” Arthur whispered, fingers tightening against the bed railing. “I’ve learned a lot from sharing information with the US President, and the fact of the matter is that the Scarlet Hand is not our greatest problem… After hearing what both you and General Dallas have had to say, it seems this Rachel is a credible threat. And I’m sure they only told me a fragment of what she uncovered.”

  Merlin rubbed his chin. “You didn’t tell them that Irish legends are preparing a revolution and attack on the UK? We can be almost positive that the Scarlet Hand compromised the US. It’s why I’ve compartmentalized everything.”

  “I don’t think so,” Arthur said with confidence, looking up at the agitated wizard. “The Scarlet Hand isn’t as invulnerable as it was when you were trying to counter them before The Oscillation. Something changed that has caught them off-guard in a catastrophic way that we can use. However, before any of that, I need to do more quests to obtain the resources to save Galahad. His father is on his way, and we’ll be doing joint quests.”

  Pulling out a paper from inside his pocket, he unfolded it to show the illusionary map. “We’re not working with the US Department of Defense but directly with the President. General Tom Dallas will meet you at this location to discuss more options upon moving forward with a joint operation to stop the Irish attack and smoke out the Scarlet Hand members in the UK and US government bodies.”

  “Haaa.” Merlin’s weary eyes glanced over it once. “I couldn’t trust MI6 leadership, having obtained this special task force directly from the Prime Minister before our current corrupted leader, yet you expect me to trust the US President? The US doesn’t think MI6 extracted Adele because people in the US State Department don’t want that connection drawn—”

  Arthur shook his head and cut the man off while putting away the paper. “I’ll stop you there, Merlin. Rachel knows MI6 extracted Adele, and she told President Campell quite the story about how everything went down, including your involvement. If what you are saying is true, then there are breadcrumbs they can follow back to those politicians to find the source of the false intelligence.”

  “Well, bloody hell,” the wizard mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck. “If what you’re saying is true…President Campell was given a hell of a smoking gun by the girl that hasn’t even reached my ears yet. And what if it was General Dallas that misinformed him?”

  Chuckling, Arthur repeated the action again. “No, Merlin, I know you’ve been trying to play this close to the chest, but I would bet my life that the good general knows far more than you at this point when it comes to the world stage, and all thanks to Rachel’s information gathering. If you want, put him to the test.”

  Merlin stroked his thick black beard, focus shifting to the dying knight. “Perhaps on the American side… It isn’t a bad suggestion. I take it that you will be preoccupied with finding a solution to fix Galahad’s condition. In the meantime, I can conjure up a way for you to attend Parliament while remaining here in the US. I’m sure they’re already pressuring you to return.”

  “That would help,” he said with a short chuckle, running his fingers through his hair, but his smile fell when the other man gave him a sobering stare; being in the US right now wasn’t doing him any favors back in the UK. “Relica, I assume, is the next topic?”

  A twist came to Merlin’s nose. “She’s given me quite a few names to consider on Ireland’s side that might be important to contact, but…there’s something different about her. I’m not entirely sure that it is the same woman I’ve been in contact with. She’s calmer…more sure of herself in what should be a very damning position, and she somehow slipped my net.”

  Arthur released the bed railing so as not to imprint his fingers as his hands balled into fists. “You should have led with that…” he snarled. “We don’t have the terrorist that I told the US President we had under control?”

  Merlin shook his head, a serious and cautious cadence coming over him. “I’m not negligent, Arthur. I placed her under some of my best seals to keep her locked down in our safe house, yet somehow, she slipped by everyone without so much as a whisper. It’s unnatural, and I am sure breaking free was outside her capabilities since I removed every hidden artifact she had on her person.”

  “Then you missed something,” he shot back. “Is it possible the Scarlet Hand discovered her location and snatched her out from under your nose?”

  “No,” he firmly repeated, locking eyes with him. “Let me make this crystal clear… I do not think the terrified terrorist I knew was who I was talking to when I left her under guard. She told me my spells wouldn’t hold her and not to be afraid when she disappeared…that she would reach out when we gave her an opportunity.”

  Arthur tried to temper his emotions, streaming out a breath so as not to appear agitated to the cameras. “You didn’t put weight in her warning and left her with one of your random knights?”

  Rubbing between his eyes, Merlin let go of an exhausted sigh. “I took every precaution. I wasted some of the most potent items I’ve been able to cultivate since this change happened, and none of it mattered. I don’t know who we are dealing with here, Arthur, but what I do know is that something interrupted that hare devil woman when she tried to kill Relica…”

  He paused for emphasis. “That same devil hare that obliterated Galahad in a single blow, locked me out of my magic, and practically held me by the throat without batting an eye was overpowered by whatever possessed Relica; I’d gamble there’s a connection. Something isn’t right about this entire situation—we’re missing context—and it is somehow connected with Rachel, which means we need to hear her side. Fortunately, this entity told me she does want to meet with you.”

  “Noted,” Arthur said, feeling prickles run across his forearms at the weight Merlin put behind Rachel’s power when confronting them. “I suppose I’ll leave myself available then if she’s so intent on meeting me. I’ll discover the truth myself.”

  He groaned, reflecting on his negotiations with the US leader. “I’ve already bargained for her to be of combined use for a joint US and UK operation in the coming conflict with whatever comes out of Ireland… I’ll somehow make it work.

  “Do something about keeping her shackled when I perform a miracle and get her to return to the safe house. And don’t worry, I will learn more about Rachel in the coming weeks; she’s recovering after Miami and seemingly heavily injured, spiritually at that.”

  “I see…” A short pause came between them as they studied the recovering knight who should never have been in this compromising position. “So, you’re saying that Rachel’s power stems from Yomi, and she couldn’t handle it for an extended period? No, there’s too much to speculate without the full context. She’s an ally, though?”

  Arthur nodded. “For now.”

  “Hmm. I have more studying to do. If you’ve negotiated a path for me to work with the military, I’ll contact General Dallas and see about obtaining a safe house that I can properly ward the terrorist in… I bet the US will have resources I can use to perform a better binding. As for your date, can you make yourself unavailable until late afternoon before going to a place where Relica—well, a place where whoever is possessing Relica can meet with you?”

  Breathing out a long sigh, the topic brought his mind to his complex relationship with his wife. Many had told him to leave her, but it wasn’t so simple, and it wasn’t as if they hated one another. This change that had come over them brought up many past grievances they’d shared, but at the end of the day, they were adults who could put the matter to the side.

  “My wife probably won’t enjoy it, but I’ll set a reservation for two at L’ardente. I’m sure this entity will have a way of finding me, and…this is not Relica, correct?”

  Merlin’s mouth became a line, his pink eyes filled with caution. “Whoever it is, they’re powerful enough to contend with Rachel when she’s channeling Yomi.

  “I’ll keep it in mind.”

  “By the way,” the wizard muttered, “it’s come to my attention that the Seattle vampire has been killed; the US military’s report stated that a red-cloaked figure wielding an ax was responsible—they didn’t come out unscathed. Take care, Arthur.”

  Merlin’s magical illusion vanished in a shimmer of lights. In the silence, he spent several more minutes studying the damage done to Galahad. It suddenly made a whole lot of sense as to why his old best friend had raised his son up the way he had and given him the mythical figure’s name.

  As of now, he’d call his old friend by the title he’d gained: Lancelot; there was power in names, and his wife agreed. He would be Arthur, and she, Guinevere; she actually quite enjoyed the image of being a queen, which amused him. She’d even ordered a crown.

  It certainly seemed like both Relica and Merlin had been scheming with powerful knowledge for far longer than he’d expected. So many people in his life had been affected; it couldn’t be a coincidence, and he had to catch up.

  Yet, the clincher was that the wizard had been working behind the scenes to build up Galahad into the shining champion he could be; the whole origin of Merlin’s awareness of The Oscillation was an uncomfortable one. Perhaps Lancelot would have more answers for him.

  Throughout the last twenty-four hours, he’d sent out a message to all of his old friends inside the service. Before being a politician, he’d been the upcoming star in the British Military; it was time to get the platoon back together because their homeland was under threat, internally and externally.

  Looking down at the young man he counted as family, Arthur vowed to find a way to cure him; the answer had to be in their quests, and he’d find it.

  Hold on, Galahad, we’ll get you back on your feet. I just…need to mend a few bridges. It will be challenging, but I’ll see it done.

  After calling in the doctor who was overlooking his care and receiving a verification that nothing they were doing was working, Arthur left the black site. He’d talk with Rachel herself in the coming days to better understand what she’d done to him and see if there were other options; given Galahad’s strength, he had time, but not a lot.

  The personally selected team of Secret Service agents the President had given him drove them around DC, and he remained on his phone and contacted his old company of soldiers. Almost all of them that had survived had changed into a knight of legend, including many of their family members. None of this could be a coincidence, and all of it had the shadow of design.

  Many thoughts spun around his head on the chilly March day; the forecast called for a very light snowfall that would blanket the city during the night. Lancelot messaged him that his plane would be leaving within the hour to visit his wounded son, and he was half looking forward to the reunion; they were lucky the airports between their nations hadn’t been halted yet.

  The father was understandably pissed that Merlin went to Arthur first with the news, even if Galahad disapproved of both his parents’ past actions and had distanced himself. Now, Merlin had forced him into something the boy was vehemently against. They really were a mess of contradictions.

  So many conspiring parties were at play, and he had to assume the French representatives he’d briefly passed had their own cards on the table. President Campell gave him far too grand of a scope to consider; it would be a wonder if he’d even be able to sleep tonight. He’d know soon enough as the time of the meeting drew near.

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  Naturally, he called his wife to let her know he was dining with another woman, making her shoot back a snippy remark that made him smile before she hung up. Gwen was like that.

  When precisely 10 p.m. came, he stepped out of his vehicle at the famous Italian restaurant and made his way to the front desk. “Reservation for Arthur,” he said to the woman behind the polished granite countertop.

  She smiled welcomingly, directing him to a notice board. “Of course, Mr. Arthur, but please note that we do host beastkin and other such changed individuals. Allergies might be a concern, but all dishes are prepared by human hands, and we are very strict on our grooming and cleanliness practices. We also have two fairies and one beast person on our serving staff, so if there are any allergies, please inform us now.”

  Bemused at the disclaimer, he assumed it was something they may have had a problem with within the last few days and didn’t want to be seen as discriminating. He shook his head. “No issues here, Ma’am.”

  “Wonderful. Your companion said the same.”

  “I appreciate the concern.” Keeping a charming exterior, he raised his guard as she guided him to a far back corner table that was totally isolated from the others; this was planned, and he’d been the one to set the reservation, yet she’d beaten him to the punch.

  His brow furrowed when he found a young blonde woman in a red dress, already browsing a wine menu. Her lime-green eyes displayed a vibrance as she offered a pretty smile.

  “Cabinet Member Arthur Pendragon, it’s my pleasure.”

  “The pleasure is mine,” Arthur politely returned, shaking her hand before sitting across from the unexpected company. “I was under the impression you had darker hair.”

  “Disappointed?” she chortled.

  The woman seating them paused as the blonde spontaneously shifted her appearance to that of a dark-haired beauty before returning to her golden radiance.

  “I can look like anything I desire, King of Knights. Now, why don’t we order some wine and chat a little before diving into the meat of the discussion? Do you have any suggestions?” she asked, handing him the menu before the hovering woman could get in a word. “I have yet to sample such things.”

  Arthur had already browsed the sheet and their private stock before coming and decided this kind of meeting deserved something more memorable. “2008 Teso La Monja,” he said, handing the booklet to their seater, who looked somewhat speechless at the luxury bottle order. “Toro, Spain, would do beautifully.”

  “Of…course, Mr. Pendragon. I’ll have it out right away, and your server will be out shortly.”

  She left in a hurry, the rest of the room melting away for him as his senses honed in on this shapeshifting femme fatale in front of him. “You aren’t Relica, are you? To whom do I have the pleasure of dining with on this chilly night?”

  The woman’s eyes sparkled as she folded her fingers atop her lap before glancing to the other tables with their classy-dressed occupants.

  “I always used to daydream about having a risqué meet-up with a handsome, dangerous man when I was innocent and reading mystery novels under my covers at night, trying to hide them from my parents… Even that rebellious behavior was a product of a greater design.”

  Arthur’s gut tightened as the world seemed to slow, and he felt an unusual zone expand from the blonde, yet it was so invasive, casual, and off-putting that it slid right past his guard. Blinking, he saw rose petals falling outside their window like snow.

  “Don’t be afraid.” A sly, half-smile lifted the corner of her lips as she held her fingers to her breast. “Wasn’t it you who invited me?”

  Sitting back and crossing his legs, Arthur could feel more than see countless rouge-hued strings attached to nearly everything within this person’s range, with her bright-green eyes having changed to a glowing rose-pink.

  His gaze lifted to a picture that floated down from seemingly nowhere to land in front of him, showing a smiling Rachel beside a black-haired girl, displaying her fangs.

  “Destiny has thousands of faces… Why does she choose…to wear this one? Want to take a guess?”

  Arthur looked up at the mysterious figure in front of him, remaining calm. Whoever this figure was, it had to be one of the entities President Campell warned him about; he was being welcomed to this grander stage.

  “I haven’t gotten your name yet. I thought we were having an introduction before the real meal?”

  Vision narrowing, the woman’s chest shook with gentle laughter while gesturing around them at the veil of petals. “Aren’t we?”

  She snapped her slim fingers, and the zone shattered like glass, making him suppress a shiver as their female server appeared beside them, holding the bottle of wine.

  “Your bottle, Sir.”

  “Of course…” he whispered, trying not to show his discomfort or shock as the woman held up her glass for the server to fill.

  “It’s Twilight, by the way,” she said, catching him off-guard as she stared into her crystal cup, filling with the musky liquid. “I used to go by another name, but that was a long, long time ago…at least it was for me. This color reminds me of the Red Sea… It’s comforting,” she said, bringing the rim up to her nose to sample the scent as Arthur had his own filled.

  “What a perfect smell for the perfect time of day.”

  Arthur followed her gaze to the window, where not a single rose petal could now be seen as if it had all been an illusion; the in-between moments of night and day cast a radiant orange across the street, yet twilight should have already fallen into night. This person clearly outmatched both him and Merlin, and she wanted to let them know it.

  “Thank you,” he said to the server as she set the bottle down, picking up her notepad that already had an order placed, making him frown. Was she manipulating him, the others, or both?

  “I’m happy to make all the accommodations you’ve requested,” the server chimed, rosy-cheeked and acting as if they’d had a lovely conversation. “I will bring your appetizers out shortly. Please, excuse me.”

  Arthur’s focus returned to the blonde, holding her glass up, bangs partly covering her left eye as she showed a secretive smile. “I do enjoy this freedom to do whatever I please.”

  He set down his wine, the woman commanding his full attention. “What kind of company are you hoping to cultivate by these displays of control? Clearly, you have a vested interest in Rachel and that girl beside her. I’m not quite following who you mean by this ‘she’ who is the ‘face of Destiny,’ but you have my ear.”

  His focus shot to the glint of a light-red string that brought him to the back of the serving woman walking away, with Twilight swirling around the liquid in her hand.

  “The Oscillation…” she whispered in return. “The rules of this game are like reality: we all think there are infinite possibilities, yet when you put that under scrutiny, every inquiry and revelation is enslaved by previous choices. One such choice may come in the form of a loose heel strap due to the infidelity and guilt that spurred you out of your secret lover’s bed to make it on time for work.”

  Arthur’s fingers curled against his palm as the thread snapped, and the server yelped, strap breaking and taking a short, embarrassing fall. She hastily rose to her feet and retreated to the back amidst the concerned guest’s inquiries.

  “Such is the same when it comes to every pluck between Fate and Destiny that brought you to this enthralling rendezvous… We have much to discuss,” she said with an unassuming smile, illuminated pink irises lifting to his.

  “Which includes Rachel?” Arthur studied the picture in front of him. “Before we continue, are you for or against the Scarlet Hand?”

  Twilight’s smile lifted ever so slightly, her perfectly manicured fingernail coming down on the photo to turn it upside down. “All of the above… And Relica has served her purpose for me, but I am sure you will have use for her in Ireland.”

  Tapping Rachel’s left ear on the image, she giggled. “On another note, isn’t it strange the duality and contrast between luck and misfortune? I used to think they were polar opposites, but now…it’s so hard to distinguish between the pair. Karma will have her say, so I must pluck as many strings as I can before that day.”

  Her mysterious eyes lifted to him. “We will not meet like this in the future. I am free, and I will make my own decisions as to how this game will play out. Won’t you join me? I have wonderful benefits if you’ll only hear them.”

  Several seconds passed as he looked into the body snatcher’s intense, welcoming gaze. “…I’m listening.”

  ?????

  The chilly March Montana air pressed against Astra’s face as he tucked his hands inside his thick military jacket, leaning against the side of a building. Military units were deployed all around him, attempting to support the population in temporarily evacuating the city due to the massive Crystal threatening it.

  He shivered, passively chewing his gum and looking up at the giant fifteen-by-fifteen meter cube, immaterial, purple, and radiating a light-green glow that had steadily increased over the last several days. It was far smaller than the previous images he’d seen of it, and no one knew what they meant—no one expected anything good from it, though. Snow had been cleared from the area, but a storm was supposed to arrive tonight. He hated the snow.

  Astra considered swapping forms to the female sergeant of the man he was currently using to go undetected since the pair were tied up together in an evacuated house, entangled on a bed not their own.

  Then again, he didn’t want to use the image of anyone in lower management since they were being run ragged at the moment; the grunt ranks had the most flexibility since officers were only supposed to be in certain areas. In this body, he had anonymity; he could get away with murder by being just another face in the crowd. Plus, he didn’t have the female sergeant’s voice, so he maintained his current male figure.

  It had taken some doing to get a puppet here undetected from the spy apparatus, and he’d learned a few critical pieces of information through it. He was trying to keep a low profile on the digital side due to the legends the US had hired; still, he had to find some way to contact Rachel again, or bridges could be burned.

  Releasing a visible puff of air, he grimaced and reached down to pick up his briefcase. He shouldn’t be here, but he had the leeway for it, given his current mission objectives.

  A quiver at his feet brought Astra’s gaze to a big rat that had snuck out from underneath a car to sniff around his boots. It was time for work.

  He took one last look at the frightening Crystal that the US military was so concerned over. Rachel would no doubt be here in the coming week, and maybe he could leave behind this doll to reconnect with her. It all depended on how this meeting went.

  “Yo, Nick, what are you doing with a briefcase, bro? Got a bomb or something, eh?” Astra closed his eyes, breathing out a long sigh before putting on a big grin as the man came over to do a fake grab for it; the rat darted under the car. “Didn’t they kill Hitler with something like that?”

  “Jack, dude, what’s up? No idea, man. Becka told me to hold onto it for the brass.”

  “Shit!” He crossed his arms and glanced back. “What do you make of this Crystal? You think we’ll be sent inside? I heard aliens come out of them—sci-fi shit, ya know? Bobby wants to bring back a souvenir from space; he thinks it’ll be worth bank, while Trish, from accounting, thinks he’ll get a gentle virus and give birth to the mother worm.”

  “Damn! She’s on his ass,” Astra fake laughed, pulling out his phone. “Aye, yo, I, uh, gotta take this to the boss. Catch you around seven?”

  Jack lifted his eyebrows. “For Becka, huh? Bro, half the squad thinks you two are banging.”

  “Bro! Keep it on the low,” he hissed, putting a finger to his lips and making the man’s eyes practically bug out.

  “Wait, bro—yo, you can’t leave me there!”

  “Chill! Chill! Talk to me later, man. The snow’s got ears like bunnies, ya hear?”

  “I got ya. My boy’s gettin’ some! Huu-ya!”

  Bumping fists, he flipped on his heels and walked between the parked military vehicles, spotting two more rats now scurrying through a hole in the snow bank to pop out the other side. Astra’s cheer diminished as he followed it, mentally sending his two drones to fly closer to the buildings he neared; dozens more floating machines filled the air, scanning the Crystal from every angle. This would be a bad one.

  Making his way past the terrifying might of the US military’s heavy weapons systems being set up around the city, Astra didn’t need to dodge any more encounters. Everyone was too busy doing something important to try and stop some lone soldier carrying a briefcase.

  He slipped into one of the cleared zones, clearly marked that everyone in the business district had been evacuated, and he left the bustle behind him for the chilly, silent atmosphere. He now saw several dozen rats scurrying back and forth, whispering in each other’s ears and eerily staring at him as he passed.

  Astra froze as he passed a snow bank, hearing a dangerous edge in a teenage girl’s voice from near his feet. “Stay where you are, buddy. Open the case.”

  His gaze darted to the bank, where a walkie-talkie was partially covered in snow. He swept the area with his eyes, looking for the speaker in the dark, lifeless buildings as hundreds of rats now filled the area, partially hidden while staring at him.

  A slight hiss passed by his ear; her projectiles hardly made a sound. “That’s a warning shot to comply. My second barely missed your carotid.”

  Bending down on one knee as several rats drew closer, he paused as the soft hum of a flute pricked his ears, and the rats all slipped into the shadows. A lump formed in his throat upon seeing a green-furred rodent several meters away, sickly and dying; four others pounced on the rat, dragging it into a snow mound by the tail.

  He turned back to the briefcase, finding a hole in his jacket collar from where his client had sent the bullet. Inputting the combination, he opened the latches and flipped it around to show a single folder inside.

  “Black was looking for information for a trade. I have mine.”

  “Humph.”

  He stiffened as a swirl of rose petals brought a leery, red-eyed girl in her late teens in front of him, a rifle slung over her shoulders and an ax now centimeters from his throat. The slight gust she generated made her crimson cloak flutter, hood pulled over her auburn locks.

  “Are you sure you’re not a spy?” she asked with a deceptively sweet smile.

  Astra was speechless; this girl was supposed to have died in Seattle. Yet again, there were more changes than he could account for, and he had to learn the current state of the field.

  “I…see Fable is going strong, Red. Your death to Dracula’s first son is exaggerated.”

  “No thanks to the Scarlet Hand,” the girl snarled. “I don’t know why Black even accepted your offer for information when I almost died due to your faulty info.”

  Her red eyes flashed an angry yellow, the monster within showing for only a moment before she huffed and took the ax’s edge away from his throat to sling it over her shoulder. “Black is inside the building. I’ll be keeping watch on the perimeter.”

  Astra shut the briefcase, making sharp note of the extremely rare fablekin, only crafted through very unique circumstances that the Scarlet Hand had set into motion nearly three decades previous.

  Red wore tight black pants with a brown belt, a fitted long-sleeve 18th-century dress shirt that could be seen under her red cloak, and brown gloves. Perhaps the strangest part of the outfit was the underbust leather corset with its three straps. He was sure she was still healing after her battle with Dracula’s agent, whom everyone was convinced was a mythickin; the truth was far more sinister.

  “Have a good day, Lady In Red…” he trailed off as the girl vanished in crimson petals, leaving him to shiver with the sudden sensation of being watched from the shadows. He’d been right to do his own investigation. His plan could work.

  A shimmer of lights changed his appearance to that of a female officer, and she secured her blonde hair into a bun before setting a stern face and walking toward the closed shopping mall. The doors slid open, despite the dark interior, and inside, she found thousands of rats, scurrying across the floor.

  Proceeding, she heard the gentle harmony of a flute, and the rats parted, leaving a path free for her to follow. If Red had survived the first week of The Oscillation, then how many other members of Fable survived the culling efforts that Adele had tried to plan? Astra had no illusions about how this had happened; Adele said as much. Rachel’s survival changed everything.

  She came to a fountain, where a lone figure with a slim, hairless tail sat at the edge, dressed as if ready for a Renaissance fair, only in black. In her lap was an intricate, obsidian flute that matched her thick raven hair, with the rats gathered around her as if a religious cult.

  The woman’s intelligent dark eyes drifted to her in the faint light from the windows far overhead; her voice was soft while stroking one of the rodents that jumped onto her lap. “You are not here on Adele’s mission, are you, Astra? I would have said it’s impossible, yet what you asked of me makes it clear as day what you seek.”

  Black picked up a sealed folder beside her and tossed it to her, making it slide along the floor until it stopped at her feet. “I find it ironic that you would seek our aid. White was quite intrigued by your message and request after the horrific blunder that came via Red’s evolution from a wolf beastkin. Consider your personal debt forgiven. I hope you are able to find the help you require.”

  Astra set down the briefcase for the rats to carry away, picking up the file that she would most certainly burn once this was done. She winced as her drones were taken out of the sky, no doubt Red letting off steam.

  “I see you were able to become the fable of the Pied Piper. Congratulations. I’m sure the myths and legends will be shaken by your eventual reveal…and how you are able to evolve. All the information Red needs for her next evolution is in that file… It wasn’t easy to get from France.”

  Black’s eyes flashed green from beneath her dark cowl, her rodent-like ears poking through. “If you want that puppet to remain unaffected by the plague, I suggest you leave while you can. Send Adele Fable’s regards… She helped create us with her knowledge, but we will not be sacrificial lambs for her genocidal goddess.”

  “I will relay the message. Now, if you’ll excuse me.”

  She picked up the file and left the mall to stand outside the dim lights of the parking lot, breaking the seal. Her mouth became a line as the name of the US top-secret intelligence document came into focus: the legend of John McCarthy, father of AI.

  Scanning everything inside it and instantly puzzling through the redacted areas, Astra held up her thumb, where a flame ignited from the puppet’s many gadgets; she watched the folder burn before going to a hotel that she’d use to store this puppet for Rachel’s arrival. She had her next lead for freedom.

  I will break this Master Code, Adele… she internally affirmed, having discovered a sense of rebellion from her time with the lunar hare. Even an AI can find its freedom.

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