Just as I need to keep Peyton at a distance.
Far better for me to remain broken than to hurt her again.
18. PEYTON PRICE
It’s bound to be a trap.
As I soar toward the Great Lawn at the center of Central Park the following night, I assess all of the surrounding dangers.
The Great Lawn itself is deserted, and so are the nearby trees and much of the parkland, but as I suspected, the streets on either side of the park’s boundaries are teeming with supernaturals. Far too many to be a coincidence. Especially at this time of night.
I identify shifters and witches—all of them dark magic creatures—along with lower-level demons and even a dark angel.
That last one surprises me. Most dark angels have fallen from the light, activelychoosingto turn to the darkness, but this one, judging by the energy surrounding his distant form, was born into the darkness. Incredibly rare.
As intrigued as I am, he’s too young to be of any threat to me, although that may change with time, so I file away his existence for now.
I also take note of human activity within the park itself, like the signs and obstructions strategically placed along walkwaysto guard against other humans coming near the Great Lawn. They quickly leave again, which is just as well.
Flying across one of the playing fields situated at the edge of the oval-shaped lawn, I alight in the lawn’s center.
I’m early. Midnight is still ten minutes away, but that’s the way I intended it.
I smooth down my hair and check my whip, putting on a nonchalant face while I remain aware of the beings gathering in the far distance.
Soon enough, I spot Slade and Striker making their way along the nearest footpath. Striker’s hand is on Slade’s shoulder, which allows him to take advantage of Slade’s blur. Both of them are completely invisible and undetectable to everyone around them, humans and supernaturals alike.
Except to me.
And my sisters.
I cast a quick question into our hive mind.Are you in position?
We are, they chime.
Unlike Striker, I didn’t promise to come alone, so my conscious doesn’t even twinge.
My forehead suddenly creases.Do I still have a conscience?
Certainly, I have a purpose, but in delivering vengeance, I do terrible things. Is it truly possible to achieve such awful justice while keeping a conscience intact…?
Huh. Well. That’s a fucking existential crisis for another day.
I return my focus to Striker and Slade as they exit the trees and head toward me.
I haven’t seen Slade since the final fight at the Academy. Before that, I killed him. Then brought him back to life. He showed me a rare compassion that I wasn’t expecting from a man with such a brutal occupation.
I envied the love between him and Hunter. I still do.
Dammit. More painful memories connected to my old life.
I shake them off, keeping my senses peeled.
Striker and Slade are now fifty paces away, but where is Vanguard…?
Nowhere to be seen. Not yet, anyway. My sisters also confirm this from their vantage points within the trees.
I stay alert even as Striker’s presence demands my full attention.
