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  "A word first, Miss Lockwood." Levi draws me aside, and I expect a reprimand for my behavior. Instead, he peers down at me with pride. "You held your own today. Good job."

  "I...thank you?"

  He nudges me with his elbow. "If only you did so well with your Key, eh?"

  I bristle. "Hey! I'm close. Well, closer." I hold up my right arm to trace a fingertip over each numerical sequence. "They are cyphers. I just have to find out what they decode. Any hints?"

  "Yes."

  I wait for him to say more. He doesn't. "And?" I prompt.

  "And what? You've been given plenty of hints. Just...look to your heart. The answer is there."

  My lashes fuse as I glare at him. "Gee. Thanks."

  "We need our Conduit," he says, "and until you've unlocked access to the entire Grid, you're just another soldier."

  "There's nothing wrong with being a soldier," I sputter.

  "Very true--when you're meant to be a soldier. A hand can never be a foot and a foot can never be an ear. You are a Conduit. A born leader. You are meant to start a wildfire with a single spark."

  My head falls back, and I stare up at the beautiful, bright sky. "Another teaching moment? Seriously? More cryptic words of wisdom that do not help? Why can't I have a normal teacher who assigns me a ten-page essay about all the ways I can improve my sucky attitude?"

  "Excellent idea." He tweaks my nose. "Have the essay on my desk by eight tomorrow morning."

  I cross my arms. "Why didn't you tell me what would happen when I touched Dior?"

  "Because you weren't supposed to touch Dior."

  A simple answer, and yet sharp enough to pop the air in my balloon of confidence. I should have obeyed. I should have trusted.

  "Now," he says. "If you're wondering why I haven't mentioned your messages with Killian..."

  Zero! I barely swallow a moan. "Do we have to do this here?"

  "Shhh. Levi's in the middle of a teaching moment."

  I give him a brutal side-eye, and he laughs.

  "If anyone can convince him to defect, it's you," he says, shocking me. "Archer tried, wanted it to happen so badly. But more than that, you would no longer be in danger of consorting with the enemy. And miracle of miracles, I think you're making real progress with Killian. Keep up the good work."

  What? I'm flummoxed by this. His mind-set is a complete 180. Unless, of course, Levi is the one working with Myriad, and he secretly wants--

  Nope. Not going there! Not traveling the paranoia path.

  "Now, my final thought for the day," Levi says. "Your aunt Lina lives in the Land of the Harvest, and she's incapable of taking care of herself. When she helped you evade Myriad, she violated the terms of her contract. Myriad has the right to punish her, and word is they've chosen to end her Firstlife."

  "No!" They'll try to use her Everlife against me. "They can't just--how can they--no one should--"

  "She visited the Troikan HQ in LA and asked for sanctuary. Your covenant with us allows us to protect any extended family members, even Myriadians, so we were able to hide her in one of our institutions. But it's a temporary measure. Unless and until she agrees to go to court, our umbrella of protection is limited. Do yourself a favor and go see her. Convince her to agree. The institution is surrounded by TLs, so you'll be safe."

  Aunt Lina. My dad's twin sister. Loony Lina. Every member of our family thought she was crazy. Including me! Until recently, I'd had no idea she wasn't insane--she saw into the future.

  "She tried to kill me," I remind him. Scratch that. She did kill me. At the time, I was Unsigned, and I wound up in Many Ends.

  Okay, okay. In her defense, she first ensured I had the resources I needed to rescue Kayla and Reed, and she even made arrangements for Archer to find and revive me.

  Do I want one of my killers in Troika forever?

  "Also," I add, "Archer told me the newly dead aren't supposed to visit their relatives in the Land of the Living. It creates too many problems."

  "In Lina's fragile mind, you've been dead all your life. No rules will be broken." He uses his knuckles to gently tap my chin. "Go see her. If you don't, you'll regret it for all of eternity."

  "Is that an order, sir?" My next mission, perhaps? The one during which I'm supposed to obey my superior without question?

  "A suggestion."

  "Then I need time to consider your suggestion. Are we done here?"

  He sighs. "For now."

  I return to Victor, who links our arms and draws me away.

  "What was that about?" he asks.

  "Levi told me--"

  Be careful who you trust.

  For the time being, Levi is my go-to guy, and I'm not going to invite anyone else into my inner circle. Better keep the information about Lina close to my heart.

  "Just another teaching moment," I finally say. It's the truth without revealing any of the damning details. "A single spark can start a conflagration, or something like that."

  Victor snorts. "Good to know I'm not the only one who finds the constant lessons tedious."

  I don't find them tedious, exactly, but I do find them uncomfortable. They, in themselves, are Light. The very spark Levi mentioned. They chase away shadows of confusion, revealing weaknesses I need to conquer.

  Just once I'd like to find out about a hidden strength, though.

  "Are debriefings always so brutal?" I ask.

  He snickers as he pats the top of my head. "That wasn't brutal, honey. That was the equivalent of Sunday brunch with your girlfriends."

  I knock his arm away, which turns his snicker into a chuckle. "Remind me never to accept an invitation to Sunday brunch with you."

  In the Capital of New, I spot Raanan, Nico and Hoshi again as we pass my apartment building. This time, Rebel, Clementine, Sawyer and Winifred are with them. A reunion? Only the too-young Fatima is missing.

  I experience a twinge of longing. How fun it would be to blow off my duties and join them.

  Killian wouldn't think twice about attending a party.

  Enjoy the moment, he'd say.

  But I'm not sure I know how to relax. I'd probably ruin everyone's good time.

  I force myself to continue on and enter a Stairwell with Victor. We end up on the ritzier side of the city, where mansions regally line the streets, each boasting a different design. My favorites are the medieval fortress, the Disneyland castle and the Southern antebellum.

  Victor stops in front of the antebellum, where a cobblestone walkway is canopied by a huge violet wisteria tree and leads to double doors with stained-glass centers. On either side is a winding staircase that climbs to the second-floor balcony, where a glistening wrought-iron bow and arrow hangs.

  A bow and arrow. How appropriate.

  "What's going to happen to this masterpiece if Archer doesn't win the Resurrection?" I ask.

  "It will be bulldozed, a new home built for a new graduate." He lightly taps my shoulder. "But we're going to make sure he wins, aren't we?"

  "If he doesn't, it won't be because I didn't give the vote my all." I just haven't found the right way to go about it.

  We enter the abode, and all I can do is gape. A wide entrance hall spills into a formal parlor, which leads to a polished library, an opulent dining room, and a cheery sitting room.

  "Archer lived here? My Archer?"

  "He earned the right." Victor sounds proud. "Because we have free will, the work we do carries great significance. We choose, and so we are rewarded for our successes."

  I wander about, enamored by the antique furnishings, and snared by the portraits on the wall. There's one of Victor...a handful of people I've never met... Levi... Deacon... Killian--

  Killian?

  My heart stutters against my ribs. Oh, yes. Killian's beautiful face peers at me with a mixture of sadness and hope.

  This is how Archer saw him. As someone worth saving. And--no way! Beside Killian's portrait is one of me. On the canvas, I am sunlight and fire. I burn with the kind of pass
ion I'm not sure I've ever felt.

  "Who painted these?" I ask, somehow able to speak past my awe.

  "Archer. He worked while others slept."

  What? He never told me he had such amazing talent.

  "I knew who you were the day I ran into you," Victor admits with a sheepish grin. "He talked about you all the time. The girl who would change the worlds. He is the reason I volunteered to be on your team."

  A lump grows in my throat. The girl who would change the worlds.

  Not one, maybe not two. Possibly three. Pressure...

  I wonder if Archer is disappointed in me right now.

  "Tell me your story," I say in an effort to distract myself from the haunting thought. "How did you die?"

  "In the womb. I never had a Firstlife, only an Everlife."

  He goes silent. I wave my hand in a command for more information.

  "My mother met Ambrosine, the Prince of Ravens, at a party he attended in the Land of the Harvest. She fell in love with him, and they...dated isn't the right word. They spent time together. He bought her a house and, for a time, visited her regularly. She survived a car crash, I didn't. Her family in Myriad raised me, and Ambrosine ensured we had the best of everything."

  "You were loved?"

  "Very much so."

  I can't help but juxtapose his life of privilege to Killian's life of poverty and rejection.

  Killian spent most of his early years in the Center of Learning, an orphanage. He was unwanted, possibly abused. I'm not clear on the details, and I haven't pushed him for more. He'll share when he's ready.

  A prince adored by his people, Archer often visited the orphanage to play with the children, and he'd eventually befriended Killian. A friendship that raised Killian's social standing. Soon after, Killian was adopted by Pearl Bennett, a Leader who'd acted as my original ML; she'd wanted Killian to be a companion to her daughter.

  A short time later, Pearl's daughter died, and she decided the orphan boy was a nuisance.

  She returned him, as if he were an ill-fitting shirt.

  Killian experienced another deep-rooted sense of betrayal when Archer, his best friend, reached the Age of Accountability and defected to Troika. Archer Prince had everything he'd ever wanted--a father who doted on him, money, prestige--and yet he eschewed it all, leaving Myriad and Killian behind.

  Killian had raged, unable to forgive him.

  Everyone has scars. "How well do you know Killian?"

  "I knew of him, but I never spent time with him. Archer and I had different mothers, and we weren't raised together."

  I'm confused. "If you weren't raised with Archer, why did you follow him to Troika?"

  "Before I reached the Age of Accountability, I'd finished my training to become a Messenger. Every time I was sent to the Land of the Harvest, Archer found me and told me of the happiness he enjoyed in the Light."

  A small smile blooms. Archer had talk--talk--talked about happiness with me, too.

  I enter a second sitting room, where multiple weapons are on display. A long, golden staff practically begs for my attention.

  "May I?" I motion to the staff.

  Victor is watching me with a curious expression. "Out of all the guns, daggers, chains and swords, that's the weapon you pick? Did you not see the wristband over there? It controls the four elements in the Land of the Harvest."

  "Neat." I make grabby hands at the staff. "Gimme."

  He barks out a laugh. "Fine. Go for it."

  I tremble as I lift the staff, certain I'm holding something precious. I wrap my fingers around two distinct indentations--perfectly spaced handholds--and lift. It's solid, heavy, and all too soon my biceps protest.

  Upon closer inspection, I find a crack in the center of the staff, too precise to be an accident. With a frown, I tug the two sides in opposite directions. The crack widens, revealing two separate swords made of...opaque glass? Precious gemstones?

  The dark sheen glistens with different colors, but inside one, there are three Troikan symbols and inside the other, there are seven.

  3 + 7 = 10

  "It's yours," Victor says. "Levi told me to tell you to pick a weapon, any weapon. Archer had planned to give you one as a welcome home gift."

  Tears well in my eyes. Uh, oh. Here come the waterworks. "Really?"

  He nods. "Really."

  I don't know why or when accepting gifts of great monetary value became taboo among humans, but there's no way I'm rejecting this one. I say, "Thank you." I will cherish this gift, and I will learn to use it. I will make Archer proud. When he returns--and he will, I'll accept nothing less--I'll show him how good I've become by knocking him on his butt...in the grass...because I'm a mean little lass...who's taking her opponent to class...because she's all about sass.

  One of the tears escapes, gliding down my cheek.

  A high-pitched alarm suddenly screeches to life inside my head. I nearly jump out of my skin. I do drop the staff in order to clutch my ears, my heart hammering. "Something's wrong."

  Victor pales. "The alarm. Do you hear the message coming through the Grid? TLs and MLs are engaged in combat in the Land of the Harvest. We're losing, and more soldiers are needed. Location...near the home of Javier Diez." He pauses to rub his temple. "Only our group is to know Javier has been infected with Penumbra, like Dior, and there's a chance he's already spread it to someone else."

  No, no, no. After all our precautions...

  This is bad. This is very, very bad.

  "We don't have a moment to waste." Victor heads for the door. "Let's go!"

  chapter thirteen

  * * *

  "Fate says: when a door closes, you're not meant to go in. We say: kick down the door."

  --Troika

  Messengers and Laborers sprint down the streets, Victor and I among them, and every single one of us is barreling toward the nearest Gate. Shells and spirits alike are armed for battle. I even spot two Generals. Tall, thin Jane and the dark, bald Spike. Those in noncombative positions--Headhunters and Healers--watch us with trepidation.

  Fueled by adrenaline, I clutch my new staff to my chest. When one of the ends accidentally knocks someone to the ground, I yank the sides apart, content to have a sword in each hand.

  Levi is posted at the Veil of Wings, shouting words of encouragement as TLs and TMs race through.

  Without a pause in his step, Victor vanishes through the waterfall. I'm right on his heels, determined to do my part and--

  A hand shackles my wrist, wrenching me to the side, out of the way, before I can follow.

  Levi is ashen. "Only you and the princess are equipped to deal with this threat, but we can't risk both our Conduits at the same time. We also can't allow the darkness to spread to any other humans. Even though you're not ready for this fight, we need you down there. But I'm not going to force you. The choice is yours."

  "This is my next mission," I say. "My will is yours."

  "And I'm commanding you to choose."

  Sometimes war is the only path to peace.

  The words play on a loop in the back of my mind. War is never a good thing, but as history has proved, it can be a necessary thing. When one group tries to harm another, it is inevitable, and the only way to prevent something worse from happening.

  War is never pretty. It is bloody and brutal and violent. People die. Innocents die. We, the soldiers--we must do what we think is right.

  "I'll fight." I can't allow darkness to snuff out Light. I won't.

  "Thank you," Levi croaks. "Once you're down there, we won't be able to whisk you in and out at will." The urgency in his tone leaves a cold film over my skin. "The earthquakes you feel? They happen when one of the realms engages a Buckler. You also feel a quake when the other realm disables a Buckler. You can tell them apart with a glance. Myriad's Bucklers are shadowed, ours glow. But you won't need to guess which is which today. Only Myriad will be using a Buckler. They'll enclose our soldiers in an effort to pick them off. If you see one, do
not attempt to leave the Land of the Harvest. Stay where you are until it falls. Understand?"

  I'm struggling to breathe, but I nod. "I still don't know how to cleanse--you know." Penumbra. "When I touched Dior, I hurt her. I hurt myself."

  He scrubs a hand down his face. "Don't worry about cleansing anyone today. We simply want the infected out of Myriad's control. Plus, we think your presence alone will prevent the spread of the disease. That's why we want you near Mr. Diez until we're able to transport him to an unpopulated area."

  I square my shoulders. To save Troika, I'll do whatever proves necessary. "I'll do it. I'll get to him, and I won't leave his side."

  "Good. Anytime you're injured, take a drink of your manna." He checks the vial around my neck to ensure it's been filled. "Go. Go!" He waves me off. "The Buckler is down, and your location is set. Mr. Diez is on the move, so we can only transport you within a one-mile radius of him. But our Laborers know you're on the way. They'll protect and guide you."

  Heart hammering, I slip back into the crowd and race through the Veil of Wings...

  Whoosh...a blur of stars...a tide of dizziness...impact.

  The landing jars my knees, but I don't pause. I take stock. Night has fallen, and yet it's far from dark. TLs are perched on guard towers, shining halogen lights in every direction. Light that isn't exactly the Light we need, if that makes sense. MLs are there, too, doing everything in their power to destroy the halogens.

  So. Many. Spirits. They are in the towers, on top of nearby buildings and on the ground. Swords of fire--Pyres--swing this way, that way, every way. Glaciers, too.

  We're in Seattle, in the middle of a busy street. Shells are in the process of ushering humans away from the battle zone. Not that the humans see the spirits around them.

  We are nothing but wind and mist.

  I search for Javier, his picture hanging in the back of my mind. Troikans glow while Myriadians wear small, dark clouds like cloaks. I see fellow citizens I've never met... Myriadians... I see my great-grandmother Hazel... And oh, wow. General Jane is a killing machine. She swings a pair of short swords, moving through the crowd as if she's floating on water. Around her, Myriadians fall, dropping like dominoes set in imperfect rows. Her strength and speed are incredible.

  General Spike drops to his knees and slides across the ground, cutting through Myriadian ranks with ease. Before he stops, he swings a Pyre, and the fiery tip slices through the underside of a Myriadian's chin--the ML who just decapitated a TL.