Abyss, a town along the Frontier in Colonel Fireswift’s territory, was bigger than my hometown of Purgatory, but there was a similar feel to it. Frankly, it really did feel like an abyss. A fog hung over the town, and the dull street lamps did nothing to alleviate the darkness. The dreary street corridors were lined with boxy blocks of buildings about six or seven stories high. Standing there felt like being stuck in a dark valley after the sun had fallen behind the mountains.

An old, broken-down monorail hung overhead. It looked like it hadn’t been used in decades. Layers upon layers of graffiti were painted over the cars, the tracks, and the elevated stations—the painted timeline of the town’s history.

Like in Purgatory, the bars were full. They were the preferred place for people to drown their sorrows and forget their problems. Music spilled out of the open doorways, an open invitation to all who passed by. An old piano played an upbeat tune that was in stark contrast to the dreary street scene.

The people on the streets did, in fact, look depressed. There was a slouch to the way they walked, like the weight of the world and all its monsters weighed down on their shoulders, crushing them into the ground, into nothingness. Their heads were bent over, their gazes on the ground. It was all very different from the happy music, cheers, and singing emanating from the bars.

It was like when they stepped into those bars, the people transformed completely. They each became someone new. Someone with hope. Someone with dreams that still lived on. Someone the hard, cruel world hadn’t completely destroyed.

We drove under the gates, passing beyond the wall onto the haunted lands of monsters. A few hours later, we stood upon a cracked, dry patch on the Field of Tears, looking across the dusty red earth at the stone fortress. With its four towers, high walls, and drawbridge, Hardwicke’s stronghold looked like a bona fide castle rather than the shady digs of an infamous slaver. Word on the street was Balin Davenport had passed through Abyss and headed out onto the Field of Tears. So chances were good he was here now. If all went well, I would free my sisters and the last of the prisoners, and Jace would capture the Legion deserter.

“Security is tight,” said Bodybuilder One.

“Especially for a rogue band,” added Bodybuilder Two. “They have too many guards patrolling the walls, and they are all heavily armed. We are outmanned and outgunned.”

Because Colonel Fireswift had only sent a small team. Sure, Nero had appropriated Jace’s old team, but there were more than enough Legion soldiers in the Chicago office. Colonel Fireswift must have figured Jace’s victory would look that much better if he took the castle with only six soldiers rather than sixty. That was exactly the sort of thing he would do.

Nimble Knife laughed. “But we have the great Leda Pierce, Pandora, bringer of chaos and destruction.”

Jace’s soldiers laughed and pretended to shiver in their boots.

I covered my annoyance with a smirk. “It’s no wonder you need me if all you’re good for is running your mouths and shivering in fear of the stronghold you’ve already decided you cannot possibly take.”

“There are too many guards, and a Magitech barrier surrounds the whole castle. We cannot take it with the resources we have,” the petite soldier said, shaking her head.

“No, you just don’t know how to use the resources you do have. Or maybe you’re just scared.”

“How dare you call us cowards,” hissed Bodybuilder One.

“A Legion soldier is worth a dozen common thugs,” said Bodybuilder Two.

Nimble Knife nodded. “At least.”

“But Hardwicke has too many guards,” Petite Soldier concluded. “Many more than expected. His forces have gathered here from his other fortresses.”

“They are expecting us,” Jace concluded. “The numbers are not in our favor.” He said it like it hurt to admit it.

“In life, the numbers are rarely in your favor, and luck doesn’t just fall into your lap. You need to make your own luck. I’d say it’s high time we turned the numbers in our favor,” I finished as Calli and Bella parked their car next to our truck.

Jace’s hard eyes panned from them to me. “What are they doing here? I’ve made my position on this very clear. Your family is not to get involved.”

“You’ve all already given up and decided taking Hardwicke’s base is impossible. So what’s the harm in trying things my way?” I asked him.

“The harm is to our dignity, to the propriety of the Legion. Your way is dirty,” Petite Soldier said, pursing her lips in disgust.

“Since we’re talking about propriety, let me take this moment to remind you that I outrank you,” I snapped back, my gaze dropping to the small metallic insignia of a musical note on her chest, the symbol for Siren’s Song, the Legion’s third level. “So I’m going to invite you to shut your mouth before you embarrass yourself any further.”

Her face turned as red as her hair, but she didn’t insult me. In fact, she didn’t say anything at all. Finally.

I turned back to Jace. “Let me and my family show you—show the Legion—just how effective these ‘dirty’ ways can be. What do you have to lose?”

I could see the battle raging inside his eyes. On the one hand, allowing civilians to take part in this mission was a major no-no, but on the other, he really, really wanted to catch the deserter. The fortresses defenses were much better than expected. If he played this by the books, at best his mission would fail; at worst, we would all die.

“Very well. You may proceed,” he finally agreed. He looked at Bella and Calli. “The Legion takes no responsibility for any maladies that may befall you, including injury, disfigurement, or death.”

It was the standard Legion disclaimer, and the words rolled off his tongue like he’d been practicing them since he could talk.

“Are all Legion soldiers so charming?” Bella asked me.

“Why don’t you ask your boyfriend?”

Bella blushed. “He’s not my boyfriend.”

I grinned at her.

“Girls, must I remind you that we have a castle to storm?” When Calli was on the job, she was all business and no nonsense.

Bella and Calli were already dressed in the standard wilderness outfit: tank tops, shorts, and boots. They looked the part. My wardrobe, on the other hand, would need some work.

I peeled off my jacket, stripping down to my tank top and shorts. Without any insignia, it wasn’t immediately obvious that I was wearing part of a Legion uniform. I swooped down and grabbed two fistfuls of dirt, tossing it all over my clothes. Then I grabbed the bottom of my shirt and tore it. The fabric ripped halfway up my abdomen. I ran my fingers through my ponytail. A few messy strands tumbled out of my hairband. Almost there. And now for the finishing touch. I pulled out my knife.

“What’s that for?” Bodybuilder One asked, watching me closely.

“I’m going to make a few blood stains. For verisimilitude.”

Bodybuilder One looked at Bodybuilder Two. “The crazy girl is going to cut herself.”

“Oh, I’m not cutting myself,” I told him, smiling. “And no one will know the difference.”

I grabbed hold of his thick arm. His muscles bulged as he pushed against me, trying to free himself. Holding him steady, I slashed my blade across his arm. I wiped my hand over his cut, then smeared streaks of his blood all over my clothes and skin.

“You’re completely out of your mind,” Bodybuilder One said, stumbling away from me.

“Please heal Mr. Panic Pants before he bursts any more arteries,” I said to Bella.

Even as Bella dabbed a potion over his skin, he continued to glare at me.

Nimble Knife laughed. “Actually, I think she’s growing on me.”

I winked at him.

The other soldiers just gaped at me in shock.

“This is so crude,” Petite Soldier commented in a low voice.

I shrugged. “Sometimes to get the job done, you have to get your hands a little dirty. Didn’t your angel leader teach you that?”

Her jaw dropped. I’d apparently rendered her speechless.

I wiped the last of the blood on my shorts, then turned to Jace. “How do I look?”

“Like you wrestled a troll in a mud pit, ran across a live minefield, and then rubbed yourself against some barbed wire to top it all off.”

“Perfect.”

Calli tossed me a hood. “Ready?”

I lifted it over my head, casting my face in shadow. “Yes. Just don’t do it too hard this time,” I said. “I have sensitive skin.”

Calli snorted. “I’ll get you some moisturizer for that.”

Then she slapped a pair of handcuffs on my wrists. She moved to one side of me, Bella to the other. It was like that, sandwiched between my sister and my foster mother, that I set down the broken brick path that led to the castle gates.