I thought about Calli’s story the rest of the ride back to Chicago. My sisters had magic, something powerful enough that warlords had gone to war over it. Their magic was unlike anything this world had ever seen, Hardwicke had said. What did that even mean?

Back at the Legion building in Chicago, I found Jace in his sister’s office, sitting at her desk. He’d told me earlier that he was using it while she was away. His hair was disheveled, his eyes unsettled, constantly flickering from one point in the room to another. I’d never seen him look so stressed.

“Any news on Davenport?”

“No.” He bit out the word.

Jace thought it was my fault that Davenport had gotten away, but I hadn’t been lying when I’d told him there was no way I could have made it to the deserter. There had been too many soldiers. Even if my path had been clear, I’d never had made it all the way up the walls to him before he slipped away. He was too fast, and I couldn’t fly. I wondered how he’d gotten way up there so fast.

“We’ll find him,” I told Jace.

He rose to his feet. “I spoke to some of our Pioneer prisoners.”

There was no doubt as to what he meant by ‘spoke’. After all, he was the son of a Legion Interrogator.

“The deserter has disappeared without a trace,” Jace continued. “We can’t track him, and no one knows where he was going.”

“You’re not going after him,” I realized.

“No.” He didn’t look happy. He’d been tracking Davenport for months. Catching the deserter was important to him—and to Colonel Fireswift, who hated traitors even more than he hated me.

“The First Angel has decided that we have bigger fish to fry,” Jace said. “The Interrogators will question our prisoners to find out where the rest of the kidnapped teenagers are being held. Then we will free them.”

“But not before you destroy the Pioneers for daring to defy the gods.”

Save the prisoners and punish a whole ban of traitors all at once? Nyx was nothing if not efficient.

“That’s how things are done, Leda. All threats to the gods’ order must be obliterated. If criminals get away with defying the gods, then others see that. They will think the Legion is weak. More criminals will rise, swarms of them, too many to control. A plague of crime will consume the Earth. More innocent people will get hurt. I know your sisters are important to you, but they are just two people. Many more will suffer if we don’t put everything into stopping the Pioneers’ rebellion.”

He had a point. Centuries ago, when the world fell to the monsters, many people had turned on one another. Back then, it had been every man for himself. Crime rose as gangsters competed in the scramble to the top, battling one another to fill the power vacuum. That continued until the gods stepped in and brought back order. So as viciously merciless as the Legion could be, they were looking out for the greater good. Sometimes the greater good meant not making any single person important; it meant making the collective of people important.

I was all for serving the greater good—most of the time. But Gin and Tessa were not random numbers in a casualties-of-war spreadsheet. These were my sisters we were talking about. They were important to me. Very important. The Legion could make the Pioneers their priority, but I was making Tessa and Gin mine.

The thing was, if the Legion found out about my sisters’ magic, they would suddenly make them a priority too. That just wasn’t the sort of priority we wanted. If their magic was really so unique, the Legion would turn them over to the gods, who would use my sisters for their own purposes. People had gone to war over their magic; their powers surely weren’t something as innocuous as making the world’s best pizza.

In that way, Jace’s indifference toward my sisters was reassuring—because that meant the Legion didn’t know about their magic. As long as there were other kidnapped people still missing, my sisters blended into the crowd. They didn’t stand out as special. The Legion was more focused on people like the missing daughter of an angel. She was just a few months shy of her twenty-second birthday, when she could join the Legion and claim her magical legacy.

Jace met my gaze, his eyes hard. “I know that look.”

“What look?”

“That look of calculation in your eyes.”

“Oh?”

“It’s the same look you got just before you went off alone to rescue General Windstriker on the Black Plains during our first mission. It’s the look you get when you’re about to take matters into your own hands.”

I snorted. “That’s my default look. I always take matters into my own hands.”

“For once, let the Legion Interrogators do their job instead of going off your own reckless adventure,” he said, his voice almost pleading.

“Now what would be the fun in that?” I countered with a smirk.

“I’m serious, Leda.”

“Of course you are.”

A heavy sigh rocked his chest. “If you get yourself into trouble, I can’t protect you from my father’s wrath. I’ve already covered for you enough as it is.”

“What do you mean by ‘covered for you’?”

“My father wasn’t happy to learn that Hardwicke is dead. He would have been a valuable source of information.”

And that’s why Calli had killed him, so the Legion wouldn’t find out about Gin and Tessa—or how the Earth’s criminal underworld was going to war over their magic.

“I told him Hardwicke was killed in the crossfire,” Jace continued. “Because if he knew it was you, he would find a way to punish you.”

I didn’t doubt that. That’s why I’d said that I’d shot Hardwicke, to protect Calli from the Legion’s wrath. And now Jace was covering for me.

“You didn’t have to do that,” I told him.

A smile twisted his lips. “Sure I did. If my father killed you, he’d ruin our competition. And I want to see the look on your face when I get my wings first.”

“Keep on smiling, Fireswift. You’ll need these happy memories to make it through the day when I win.”

“Oh, really? From where I’m standing, I’ve already won.”

“Then you must be standing on your head, doofus.”

“Watch your mouth, Lieutenant,” he snapped, but a hint of amusement tainted his sharp rebuttal.

I drew my mouth into a smile. I could tell from his shaking shoulders, Jace was trying really hard not to laugh.

“Have you ever considered that I’m just letting you think you’re winning?” I asked. “Then, at the last moment, I’ll jump out ahead, leaving you in the dust.”

“There’s little time left for your miraculous save, Pandora.”

True. He had just two levels to go before he became an angel, and I still had three. Plus, right now I had more important things to worry about than leveling up my magic. Like saving my sisters.

And I wasn’t doing very well on that task either. I still had no idea where Gin and Tessa were being held. I’d broken Hardwicke’s mind, and he hadn’t been lying when he’d said he didn’t know where they were. Maybe some of his soldiers would know. Maybe they’d overheard something during a prisoner transfer. That was an awful lot of maybes.

“Your mind is somewhere else,” Jace said seriously.

“Yes, sorry. As fun as this competition between us is, I have a lot on my mind right now.”

“Understandable. You should give your mind a break and try to get some sleep while you still can.”

He had a point. I hadn’t slept much last night. And who knew when we’d have to head out again.

“I’ll let you know as soon as I know anything,” he promised, setting his hand on my arm.

I forced a cheerful smile; lately, it had been hard to keep my spirits up. “Thanks,” I said, then I left the office.

But I didn’t go to my room. My mind was too busy, buzzing with worries. Sleep would be impossible. I hurried down the hall, my body as restless as my mind. There was only one remedy for that.

I went to the training hall, hoping to tire myself out. I found Meda and Maya waiting for me there instead. Though the sister goddesses were dressed in identical green satin dresses, their accessories differed. Meda had embellished her dress with a gold belt; potion vials dangled from it like tree ornaments. She wore a slender dagger at her waist as well. Silver strands of gemstones hung from her sister Maya’s belt. And they were both wearing gold headbands set with emeralds.

“You have quite a problem,” Meda said.

Her tone was very relaxed, very casual, but I knew there was magic beneath those innocent, sweet facades. The two sisters were powerful and dangerous goddesses.

“You should ask your sister Bella to look at the potion the Pioneers take to gain their powers,” Maya said.

And then, before I could respond, the goddesses were gone. Talk about cryptic. I couldn’t decide if they thought they were helping out, or if they were just being purposefully vague. But on the plus side, they hadn’t tried to kill me. I was going to call that one step up from my most recent heavenly visits.

I browsed through the training programs on the panel and selected one called the Wall of Woe. Now that was a great name.

As soon as I activated the training program, a telekinetic barrier slid out of the floor, swallowing me in a glowing blue bubble. I poked it with my finger, and it nipped back with a hiss. It seemed like I was supposed to break through the barrier by neutralizing the telekinetic energy.

Someone stepped into the gym, but I couldn’t make out the face through the blurry barrier.

“You’re not sleeping,” Jace’s voice spoke over the hum and hiss.

“My mind is too busy to sleep.” Thinking back on what Meda and Maya had said, I decided to go out on a limb. “Have your people looked at the Pioneers’ blood?”

“Why do you ask?”

“Hardwicke told me the Pioneers supernatural powers come from a potion.”

“Before he attacked you and you had to shoot him.” Jace was not buying my story.

“Yeah, well, you know me. I talk to people in battle all the time.”

“I know. But they don’t always talk back. Especially not to volunteer important information.”

“He didn’t exactly volunteer it willingly.”

“Oh?”

“I might have crushed his mind like a nut and squeezed his secrets out of him,” I admitted.

Jace was quiet. With the blurry blue bubble blocking my view, I couldn’t gauge his reaction very well. I couldn’t even see his face.

“Jace?”

“You crushed his mind,” he said slowly. “While fighting him.”

Actually, while fighting him, I’d mesmerized him with my hair. And as he stood there frozen, I’d cuffed him to the wall.

But all I said was, “You’re not the only one who can multitask magic, hotshot.”

“Have your abilities been evaluated yet?”

“Evaluated?”

“Scored. Not everyone possesses all magical abilities equally. We all have our strengths and weaknesses.”

“Magic and counter magic.”

He nodded. “Eventually, the Legion evaluates all of us who survive long enough. It’s how they decide where to put us, where we’ll be the most useful. People with powerful witchcraft magic go to the Legion research laboratories and hospital departments. Elementals with earth and metal magic become the Legion’s blacksmiths. And people with exceptional siren magic become Interrogators.”

“I think I recall a few memos about testing on my schedule,” I said. “But I’ve missed all my appointments so far. I’ve been a little busy stopping psychopaths to play lab rat.”

“If my father finds out about your siren magic, he’ll make you an Interrogator.”

I didn’t want to be an Interrogator. “I don’t think I have the right temperament for the job.”

“He won’t give you a choice.”

“Then it’s a good thing you’re good at keeping my secrets.”

He fell silent again.

“Jace?”

“I’m still here.”

“So what did you find in the Pioneers’ blood?” I asked him.

“Nothing. No traces of magical substances. In fact, their blood was completely human. It was devoid of magic.”

The Wall of Woe zapped me. I gave it the evil eye. It shifted from dark cerulean to a blue so light that it was nearly transparent. I could finally see Jace. The haze of the bubble made his face glow; there was an unnatural glossy sheen to it, like all his features had been partially blurred out.

“That’s impossible,” I told Jace. “Hardwicke’s guards all possessed supernatural powers. Some of them could wield more than one supernatural power.”

“Including Hardwicke?”

“Yes, he pretty much had them all. So how can your lab’s test claim they possess no magic? There should be traces of the magic potion in their blood.” Unless… “Idiots,” I muttered.

“I hope you’re not talking about me.”

“No, not you. Your father’s Interrogators. They mucked this all up brilliantly.”

“How?”

“What’s the first thing Legion Interrogators do before they begin questioning a supernatural?”

“As a rule, they administer a magic-blocking potion to neutralize their powers.”

“And that’s why the labs didn’t find any magic in the Pioneers’ bodies.”

“The Interrogators’ potion obliterated any traces of it,” Jace realized.

“Right. In their attempt to make the prisoners not a threat, the Interrogators made them useless. That means if we want to analyze the Pioneers’ potion, we need to capture a fresh new prisoner. If only we knew where they’re all hiding.”

“The organization’s cells are independent. None of the common soldiers know anything about the other cells. Otherwise, we would have taken them out years ago.”

“How about you give me a go at finding the Pioneers?” I said.

“You?”

“Before joining the illustrious Legion of Angels, I used to be a bounty hunter, remember? I’m good at tracking people.”

I’d been doing it for a decade, ever since Calli had started bringing me on jobs.

“I doubt my father would agree to that,” he said.

“Because you need to get all the credit.”

“Yeah, sometimes I wonder if this is more about putting you down than about pushing me up.”

I wouldn’t have been surprised. Colonel Fireswift considered it blasphemy that a dirty street rat like me could make it into the Legion of Angels, let alone had any shot of becoming an angel before his son.

“What your father doesn’t know won’t hurt him,” I said.

He looked at me like my hair was on fire—or more like I’d tried to set his hair on fire.

“What do you know about the Legion deserter?” I asked. “Most specifically, how was his magic evaluated?”

“The Legion’s tests determined that witchcraft is Davenport’s strongest power by a long shot. He must be descended from witches.”

“Don’t you think that’s a bit too much of a coincidence?”

“What do you mean?” he asked, his eyes lighting up with excitement. He was hoping to nab the deserter as part of this after all.

“Davenport was working with the Pioneers. What if he’s the one who designed the Pioneers’ magic potion? You said his specialty is Witch’s Cauldron,” I pointed out.

Jace’s face fell in disappointment, as though he’d expected that I had something better. Apparently, my wild theory had fallen far from the mark.

“No one, not even a former major in the Legion of Angels, is so good that he could create a potion to bestow magic upon mundane humans,” he stated. “You simply cannot give people the power of the Legion without the consequences. Nectar and Venom are the only potions with the power to bestow magic. What you’re saying isn’t just crazy talk; it’s heresy.”

“Then how do you explain the Pioneers’ powers?” I shot back.

“I can’t,” he said, chewing on his lower lip. This affront to the rules of the world as he knew them was bothering him.

It was bothering me too. There were so many questions, so many things that just didn’t add up. And the deeper I dug, the more I found myself buried in uncertainty.

The Wall of Woe zapped me again, irritated that I’d been ignoring it. I swore at it under my breath.

“It’s on a timer, you know. It’s going to crush you if you don’t break through,” Jace told me.

“Lovely. The Legion’s training program designers sure don’t half-ass it.”

I made a fist and punched the Wall of Woe. It punched back, slamming me against the other side of the barrier. I made two fists this time and punched harder. Even as the barrier pushed against me, shooting jolts of magic up my arms that ricocheted to every part of my body, I stood my ground and bore the pain, hitting it harder and faster like it was one enormous punching bag. The barrier groaned, a hairline crack in the telekinetic energy forming. I aimed my next punch at the crack, smashing it again and again. The opening swelled to the width of my shoulders. Then the bubble popped, dissolving like a piece of burnt tissue paper.

The unnatural glow faded. I froze as soon as I saw Jace’s face. He looked worse than a person-of-interest did after the Legion’s Interrogators were through with them. My eyes dropped, snagging on the split and bloody remnants of his leather vest.

“What the hell happened to you?” I gasped.

“I was training with my father.”

His father had punished him—except the sadistic angel had called it ‘training’. To Colonel Fireswift, training and torture were one and the same.

“He did this because Hardwicke is dead.” Anger shook my words.

Jace said nothing, but he didn’t have to. I knew I was right.

“How could a father do this to his son?” I said in disgust.

“He is an angel.”

“I’m getting tired of that excuse.”

“You don’t understand. You dance with angels, you are an angel’s lover, but you still don’t understand them.”

“We all justify the angels’ actions by saying, ‘that’s just how angels are’. But that’s no excuse. It would be like if a vampire killed someone and people said, ‘oh, oops, he couldn’t help it. It’s simply in his nature.’ ” I frowned. “Well, I’m calling bullshit. We can all help it. We can all choose to be something other than a monster. I understand angels make tough and ugly choices, like torturing enemies to save innocent lives. But there is a line, a line we must not cross. That line is family. Every time your father lifts his hand to ‘teach you a lesson’, he crosses that line. This isn’t training. It’s brutality. And it’s not ok.”

With that said, I stormed out of the gym, my outrage propelling me toward Colonel Fireswift’s office. I pushed the door open and barged into the room without ceremony.

I gave the angel a long, hard glare and declared, “What you’re doing to your son is not ok.”

Annoyance flickered across Colonel Fireswift’s face, before coldness swallowed his aggravation. “You forget your place as a soldier in the Legion of Angels.”

“You forget yours as a father. You can’t torture your own children.”

“It’s not torture. It’s training.”

“Have you been hurting people for so long that you can no longer tell the difference?”

“How dare you challenge centuries of Legion tradition.” His voice was a whisper of menace.

“I will challenge anything I know to be wrong.”

He stared at me in utter disbelief, as though he’d forgotten that he’d told himself I wasn’t worth an emotional response. “I don’t like you.”

I let out a dry laugh. “I’d never have guessed.”

“You are mouthy, rude, and you think the rules don’t apply to you. You get too personally involved with people. You need to maintain distance so your judgment isn’t clouded.”

“Please tell me more about my best qualities.”

“I don’t like you,” he repeated. “And you don’t like me. You think I’m cruel and vicious.”

“You said it, not me.”

“I am an angel.” His words rang with pride. “For us, the ends justify the means. How often have you found yourself in the same situation?” His brows lifted knowingly.

I opened my mouth to challenge the accusation, but no words came. Instead, memories flashed through my head—interrogating the werewolf and the fire elemental, cracking Hardwicke’s mind in my desperation to save my sisters.

“My civilized methods are preferable to your uncontrolled, dirty tactics,” Colonel Fireswift stated calmly.

I pulled my mind out of the pit of guilt and turmoil that I’d dug myself into. “I throw rocks and sticks at my opponent to catch them off guard. I engage in unorthodox fighting. You torture and kill your subordinates. And your family.”

“If you survive long enough, you will come to understand.”

I huffed in disgust. But before I could think of a more articulate response, distressed shouts echoed down the hallway, spilling into the open doorway of Colonel Fireswift’s office.

Legion soldiers were professional, well-trained, and had near-perfect control over their emotions. They didn’t typically shout out in alarm. Which meant something was wrong. Very wrong.

I rushed out of the room. Colonel Fireswift was right beside me. As we came around the corner into the open atrium, I stared in shock at Harker. His uniform was torn to shreds, his face blackened by dirt and ash. Burns and blood covered his arms. A dozen other soldiers stood behind him. The best of them were in no better shape than Harker. The worst of them were so broken that they had to be carried in by their comrades.

Colonel Fireswift came to a stop in front of Harker. “What happened?”

“The failing wall in Memphis was a trap. We lost people.” His face was haunted, his voice grim. “An angel is dead.”

As the gravity, the finality of his words sank in, I looked around frantically, my pulse racing.

I grabbed Harker by the shoulders and demanded, “Where’s Nero?” I shook him harder, screaming, “Where the hell is Nero?!”