My forehead furrows because there are three people in that car, and the one in the backseat is most definitely not a pigeon-eating feline.
I add a filter that brightens the image enough for me to make out a young girl with long blonde hair and white skin. Why does she look familiar? Have I seen her in the unmasked Holy Hunter database?
I take a screenshot of her face and upload it to my chat with Dorian with the caption:Does she look familiar to you? Holy Hunter?When he doesn’t answer, I forward my query to Gael.
GAEL:Let me ask Alexander.
GAEL:We’re almost there, by the way.
I think he means at the airstrip until I spot a gleaming black Navigator turning into the darkened alley of the deli. I abandon my lookout and, keeping my face tucked low, I sprint toward the car.
Five Atlanteans pour out. I recognize Gael and his son, but not the others.
“Electra in the flesh,” Alexander chirrups.
“Let’s save the reunion for later, kids,” Gael says. “Alexander, you’re in charge of the shield. Try not to leave anyone out this time.”
His son’s expression shutters as he scoops his blond bob back. “Not my fault Georgia stepped out of bounds.”
“They drove off about twenty minutes ago.” I grip my gun as my blood-brother wraps us in a force field that should repel even the most direct hit. “No movement since.”
Gael tells the driver to get back in the car and play lookout, then sends a mammoth Atlantean by the name of Otto to the back door.
My grip on the gun tightens as Otto blows up the lock with a bolt of magic. Gael might not be the perfect father, but he’s making my dream of hunting the Hunters come true. I watch his profile in the obscurity, catching a small smile scooting across his lips. Where my heart bangs with nerves, his clearly bangs with anticipation.
The back door’s hinges groan as Otto uses more magic to draw it open. When he takes a step inside, adrenaline thickens my blood.
What are we about?—
An explosion throws me back. The world goes white, then black, tilts, spins. My skull cracks against pavement. Gray smoke fills the air, stinging my eyes and nose.
I blink until the brick façade of the building across the alley from the deli develops. I think I even spot a person in the apartment on the highest floor, but a sweep of my lashes later, and the dusty panes are empty.
“What part of:you’re in charge of the shielddidn’t register?” Gael gripes.
“My shield is the reason we’re all in one piece,” Alexander mutters, rubbing the back of his skull.
“They knew we were coming,” someone else says.
Guilt swamps me. I might not haveplannedon going inside earlier, but the fact remains that I did. I take full responsibility for trailing Cillian inside. Full responsibility for the catastrophic turn of events.
By the time I manage to roll onto all fours, Gael is already on his feet. So are my brother and the other Atlanteans. Only Otto remains unmoving.
My eyeballs keep watering as I scan the ground for my gun, making it difficult to see much of anything. It doesn’t help that hot blood is dribbling from my brow into my left eye.
“This yours?” Alexander extends a gun my way. His face is streaked with soot, but otherwise bare of cuts.
I wipe my eye on the heel of my hand as I collect the gun and shakily stash it back inside my fanny pack. My ears buzz so hard it feels like my skull is loose and bumping around.
“Back to the car!” Gael barks, floating Otto into the trunk of the SUV.
Blood drips from several open gashes on the male’s body, painting the cement crimson. It causes me little relief to know that, even if the dirty bomb was laced with mine dust, his wounds will eventually seal.
Gael meets my stare. Remorse weighs so heavily on my lids that it tugs them low, tugs my whole face low.
I expect this’ll be the first and last mission I’m given.
“Mind if we head back to your place to clean up—and recover?” he asks.
