AVA SET OUT the next day with renewed vigor, leading Kincaid on a merry chase through the streets of the East End and the docks. Malloryn had provided her with a list of potential importers who had connections to the Orient, and she was determined to track down some of the caterpillar mushroom.

It was the key to finding Ulbricht. Or the dhampir. Or whoever had killed Major Winthrop.

It was during their fifth visit they finally struck gold. Kincaid had decided to ride his velococycle again, insisting she cling to the back of him in a set of split skirts Gemma provided. He pulled up out the front of an importer near the docks, eyeing the huge warehouse, and Ava scrambled off the velococycle in a mad rush. She still wasn't used to it.

"Relax," he told her. "I barely shifted out of second gear."

"You are utterly mad! You— That thing— We nearly hit a carriage." And as far as carriage-driven collisions went, she felt like she'd had her fair share of almosts.

He turned the engine off, eyes twinkling as he lifted his goggles. "They're the latest rage in the streets, Ava. Every man will be riding one soon."

She growled deep in her throat, and then faced the building. "Mr. Leicester and Sons. He imports rare items from the White Court, India, and Nepal. Furniture, rare books, decorative hangings, timberwork. Malloryn suspects the furniture covers an opium smuggling operation."

Kincaid dragged off his leather gloves, examining the place. "One guard by the look of it. Shall we go in?"

"What?" she challenged, swinging her parasol. "No questions about me getting hurt?"

"I've seen that parasol in action," he pointed out. "And while I would like to keep you safe from harm, Ava, leaving you behind would be counterintuitive to our case. I need that big, intelligent brain of yours to pick apart the truth." He glanced around. "There's a feeling in the streets today, as if one catastrophic spark will unleash a torrent of fury. I just.... We're running out of time. I want to stop this war before it begins."

He looked so earnest. But those would be his friends out there in the streets, all the humanists he'd once known and led.

"I want to stop it too," she said quietly, for everyone's sake, not just the humans.

"Then let's find our murderous mushroom." Kincaid led the way. "I can't believe I just said that."

Ava smiled.

Inside the factory, several men used cranes to manipulate large crates. The noise was enormous, and one fellow directed them toward the office. "Mr. Leicester will know if we've imported any of the items you want to buy."

They changed direction.

A man caught her eye, quickly looking away from her.

"Do the men seem to be staring a little more than usual?" Ava murmured, clutching her parasol.

Kincaid looked around, moving closer to her. "Do you have your pistol on you?"

She blinked up at him. "Yes." But the idea of firing it at someone was completely different from trying to hit a target. She wasn't certain she had it in her.

"Keep moving," he told her. "You're right. They are watching us."

All the hairs on the back of her neck lifted. Ava swallowed, and marched behind him. Behind the glass windows of the office, a man was leaning over a desk, marking things off on a sheet of paper. He saw them coming and froze, his weedy little mustache quivering.

Ava swept ahead of Kincaid with a pleasant smile. "Good morning, sir. Mr. Leicester, I presume?"

Mr. Leicester was sweating in his beige cardigan. "Ah, good morning, ma'am. How may I help you?"

"We're looking for something," Kincaid said, moving around the desk and glancing at the papers strewn all over it. "Perhaps you could help us?"

Ava tugged her Nighthawks badge out from inside her reticule, showing it to the man. "Do you know what this is?"

His face paled, and then he took off running.

Ava stepped back in surprise. What on— "After him!"

Kincaid took two steps, ripped the lid off a nearby crate, and threw it discus-style toward the fleeing man. He went down, and Kincaid hurried after him, stomping a foot in the middle of his back when the fellow tried to flee. "I'm not much for speed," he told her, reaching down and flipping Mr. Leicester over. "Why'd you run?"

"P-pardon," the man said. "I didn't... I panicked. I just.... I meant no harm by it."

Kincaid circled him slowly, and with his leather coat clinging to those broad shoulders and his thick brows drawn together, he looked quite menacing. "In my experience, innocent men don't run. Ava?"

"We're looking for something you might have imported," she said, withdrawing her notebook from her pocket so she could show him a sketch of the mushroom they were after.

"No! No! I won't say anything." The man cowered. "I can't! He'll kill me."

He?

"Who will kill you?" Kincaid demanded, shaking him a little.

Leicester kicked and scraped at the floor, trying to escape. Kincaid picked him up and slammed him back on the desk, both of his fists curled in Leicester's cardigan. "I won't ask again."

"You, unfortunately, have a choice to make," she told Mr. Leicester, trying to restrain Kincaid with a gentle touch. "You clearly have information we require, and we're running out of time to get it."

"Fucking craver," Leicester said, and spat in her face.

Ava didn't see what happened next. Kincaid's fist blurred past her in a savage blow, and blood spattered across the desk. Ava wiped her face clean with her handkerchief as he punched the man again and again, driving him onto the floor. "Kincaid!" she yelled, grabbing his raised arm.

Those blue Celtic eyes were wild with rage as he looked at her. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine." She eased his arm down. "We need him to talk to us, Liam."

Kincaid let the man go with muttered curse, raking his hands through his hair as he turned away from her. The man curled into a ball on the floor, sniveling and clutching at his broken nose. Blood streamed from it, and for a second she felt like she wanted to cast up her accounts.

"If you even look at her less than politely," Kincaid snarled, "then next time I won't stop."

"As you can see, you're facing quite the predicament," she said, shaking a little. She'd never been spat upon before. "My friend here is not quite as civilized as I am. And if you don't answer my questions—"

"You're not going to kill me," the man blustered. "You can't. You're a Nighthawk."

"No, we're not going to hurt you." At least some people in this city still knew what the Nighthawks stood for. "But I think we're going to take you to see a friend. He's not quite as nice as we are, and unfortunately, he's willing to do whatever it takes for the greater good."

"Malloryn?" Kincaid asked.

"Malloryn," she confirmed. "Pick him up and I'll go through the shipping statements."

"There's no need for that," a child's voice called.

Both she and Kincaid spun around.

A young man, barely a lad, stepped hesitantly toward them, his hands raised in front of him, and a cap on his head. "Please don't hurt him," he called, his nervous eyes flickering to the man on the ground. "I can show you what you're looking for."

"What we're looking for?" Ava questioned, standing a little straighter. Neither she nor Kincaid had mentioned anything in particular.

"Edward! No!" the man on the ground bellowed.

"You're going to get us all killed," the boy shouted back. "You're going to get yourself killed. They're Nighthawks! They can help us."

"You have my word," Ava told him. "If you tell us what we want to know, I'll use any influence I have to see you and your family are safe."

"You're here for the serum, aren't you?" the boy piped.

Ava shot Kincaid a look. The serum? "You have the serum here?" They'd been looking for the mushroom, and instead struck gold.

The boy nodded. "Just promise you won't hurt my father, and I'll show you where it is."

* * *

Edward Leicester was most helpful.

"All of what we have on hand is in that crate," he said, gesturing to a small picnic-basket-shaped box.

Kincaid used a crowbar to pry it open. Inside, dozens of small vials rested neatly, filled with a bright green liquid. "There's more than enough serum here to kill hundreds of blue bloods."

Ava flashed before his eyes, curled in a heap on the floor and bleeding from her eyes, with black veins pulsing behind her pale skin. He felt sick. Blue blood or not, this was a crate full of murder, and he couldn't risk her again.

He needed to find the rest of this bloody serum and destroy it.

"That's only the last crate, sir," Edward said. "They took the rest of them. This one was misplaced in the rush."

"The rush?" Ava asked.

Kincaid slowly lowered the crowbar. "How many crates? Where are they coming from? Who's taking them?"

Edward took a step back, his freckles showing starkly against his pale face. "It's.... We're just shipping them."

"Smuggling, you mean?"

The boy swallowed. "There's a manufacturing facility near Brighton," Edward said. "I don't know what Da's been promised, but the men who came here weren't very nice. All we had to do was smuggle the crates in, hide them in the warehouse, and then hand them over when men with the right codes and tattoos appeared."

"Brighton." He exchanged a look with Ava.

"That seems awfully convenient," she replied. "Considering one of our suspects was supposedly seen in the area."

Lord Ulbricht. "Was it a tattoo of a rising sun?"

Edward's face brightened. "Aye, sir." He revealed his wrist. "One of them had it right here."

"And they were blue bloods?" Ava questioned. "Pale skin, pale hair?"

Edward shook his head. "I don't know, ma'am. I don't think Da would deal with blue bloods, but then he kept me and my brother out of all of this. I... I wasn't supposed to be watching."

"Describe them," she said, taking out her little notebook as Edward ran through the details.

Kincaid paced. Three different men, at least two blond, which could mean blue bloods. Rich clothes, a posh accent, one of them wearing well-shined shoes, so that indicated some money.

"They needed the shipments by tonight at the latest," she repeated, when Edward had finished. "Over three thousand vials of serum to be collected in the last few days." Her breath caught in her throat at the number. "Do you know what they're planning to do with all the serum?"

Edward looked pale now. "I don't really know. We were only the smugglers, ma'am. But... I heard one of them laughing. He said, 'flick the match and watch London burn,' and his friend said, 'they're not going to burn, they're going to die, kicking and clutching their chests.'"

Chests... that could mean hearts. What did this all mean?

Edward swallowed. "And then the first one said, "Nighthawks first."

* * *

"They're going to attack the Nighthawks," Ava said, the words spilling out of her in a rush as she filled in the rest of COR. Three thousand vials of serum. She squeezed her eyes shut and swallowed when she finished, waiting for the others to comment.

"Blood and ashes," Malloryn whispered.

"They could kill the entire Echelon with that amount of serum," Gemma added, in a sickened tone. "As well as the Nighthawks, and any other blue bloods in the general population."

No more blue bloods.

All of her friends, her newfound family.... Ava swayed, and then suddenly there was a warmth against her back, a presence there supporting her. Kincaid's hand rested on the small of her back.

"I won't let it happen, Ava," he told her. "I promise."

And she nodded up at him, letting everything she felt for him fill her eyes. He'd come so far in such a short time. Ava patted his arm, still feeling sickened, and it was only then she realized everyone in the room was looking at the pair of them.

Especially Malloryn.

The duke looked away, standing and pacing the room. "Ulbricht's an antihumanist but surely he wouldn't go this far. He believes in blue blood rights to power, and that humans are nothing but cattle. I can hardly see him spearheading a... a murder spree against blue bloods, and if this gets out of hand, then the very people he's fighting for will die."

"You're right," Kincaid breathed, "but what you're not taking into consideration is the fact none of these deaths are blue bloods of any importance. He doesn't care about the Nighthawks. He never has. He wants to protect the Echelon, and the past. Is Ulbricht arrogant enough to think he could use it and control it?"

The look on Malloryn's face was answer enough. "Yes," he said, closing his eyes briefly, as though he could see his world going up in flames.

"They were tests," Charlie said, as if the penny dropped for him too. "Mr. Thomas, and Mr. Long and the others. They're all new blue bloods no one suspected were even infected. Ulbricht must have had them tracked, and tested his serum to make sure it worked."

"The attack was always two-pronged." Malloryn waved a hand. "A poison that afflicts only blue bloods, a spate of murders, and the loss of the vaccine clinics. He's using fear tactics against both races. The humanists have no way to protect themselves from succumbing to the craving without the vaccine, and many of them will be wondering if they've already been stricken with a contaminated vaccine. And the blue bloods of the Echelon will be frightened about a disease that can kill them, thinking the humanists are trying to destroy them.... Blood and ashes, this is madness."

"Ulbricht wants a war," Kincaid said darkly, "no matter what the cost."

A chill ran through her. Of course. She'd said it herself. How can we have a future when you hold such prejudices against me?

"They're using our own tactics during the revolution against us—using riots to create fear in the Echelon, and stirring up that disgruntled memory within the human ranks until it spills over. This is all about dividing the races. About destroying our newly minted peace," Kincaid continued.

You could have heard a pin drop in the room.

"For three years," Kincaid said, "humans, mechs, verwulfen, and blue bloods have held equal rights." He stabbed his finger toward the map on Malloryn's wall, pointing to the first scene of riots. "During the revolution, the only thing the blue bloods feared was the might of a human mob storming the Ivory Tower. So they crushed the riots before they even began. We have peace now, but it's an uneasy peace, and nobody seems to quite know where they stand."

"That's what Ulbricht's trying to provoke," Ava blurted. "He wants the blue bloods who are left to feel frightened. He wants humans and blue bloods to see each other as enemies again. All of this is to frighten blue bloods into joining his cause, and setting them against the human ranks again."

Kincaid shot her a look, and nodded. "So far the riots have been subdued peacefully, but one flick of the match and all of a sudden London will burn. Trouble's brewing among the human population. I've heard it with my own ears, from friends. It's been a quiet grumble in the past year, but all it will take will be one clash gone wrong."

"The Nighthawks," Ava said, and swallowed. "They're on the front lines, and Garrett said during the last riot one of his men was shot. He's going to come down hard on the next mob. And if he does...." Ava felt like her breath punched out of her.

"There's your tinder strike," Gemma said grimly. "There's your match to an oily puddle."

"Blood and ashes," Malloryn swore. "How the hell did I not see this?"

Ava exchanged a glance with Gemma, who grinned unrepentantly. It was rare one got one over on Malloryn.

"Well, you were distracted, Your Grace, what with your upcoming marriage, and frosty relations between you and your soon-to-be wife," Gemma replied.

"I can't afford to be distracted." Malloryn paced shortly, rubbing his hand across his mouth. "Fear means there'll be blue bloods from the Echelon swarming to Ulbricht's ranks, and from there they'll start muttering against the queen. I thought we cut the head off the snake of the SOG when Zero died, but Ulbricht's... cleverer than I suspected." He looked genuinely baffled. "He's never been this patient or thoughtful before, and I should know."

"Unless he's not the one behind the plan," Ava suggested. She felt emboldened by the sudden belief in her theories. "You said you suspected someone was pulling dhampir and SOG strings last month. Some hidden mastermind we don't know about. Maybe whoever that mastermind is, he's set this plan in motion? Maybe Ulbricht's still a puppet?"

"But what we do know," Malloryn said grimly, "is that London is one riot away from going up in flames. And Ulbricht has the most dangerous weapon I've ever heard of in his hands, and is mad enough to use it."

"But how?" Kincaid demanded. "He needs to inject the poison, doesn't he? Which means getting close to a Nighthawk, and they're highly trained. None of his SOG are fighters, not like the Nighthawks."

"Get moving, everybody," Malloryn snapped. "Gemma, I want you to make a move on the SOG suspect we think we have. Break him if you have to, but make sure he tells you everything. We need to know what Ulbricht is planning. Charlie, go with her to watch her back.

"And you two"—Malloryn pointed a finger at both him and Ava—"make your way to the Nighthawks guild as swiftly as possible and alert the guild master. Our first priority is stopping the Nighthawks from making a dangerous mistake. Then we can figure out how Ulbricht's going to use the serum."