I woke with a strangled shriek, shoving off my assailant and slamming hard to the ground. Someone else yelled, and I clutched my arm, forcing my eyes open through the pain to find—

  My cell, I was in my cell. My arm was intact, I wasn’t laden with explosives and tired from fighting the worst villains the world had ever seen. I’d died, I’d failed, I’d gone back again. The thought calmed my panic, but made me let out a frustrated groan. No slipping away quietly this time.

  “Lia?” Paroxysm’s shaky voice came from the bed.

  “Sorry,” I said, rising from the floor and brushing myself off, cheeks starting to burn. “Um, had a nightmare.”

  “Aww, come here chérie,” she said sweetly, reaching out a hand. I took it and gave it a brief squeeze, but didn’t move. “Lia, what’s wrong?”

  “The end of the world is coming,” I said quietly, a chill setting into my body. “It’s coming and I don’t know if I can’t stop it Kennedy.” She gripped my hand tighter.

  “I think you can,” Paroxysm whispered. “I know how strong you are Lia. If there’s anyone who can do it...well, you’ve got the best shot.”

  “I’m just one cape.” I took a deep breath. “But I guess that doesn’t matter, I’ve got to try. Kennedy...thanks, for everything.”

  “It’s happening now?” she asked shakily.

  “Soon,” I corrected. “Very soon, but not if I can help it.” She bit her lip, then nodded.

  “Go then,” she said with a sad smile. “Be a hero, the world needs you.”

  I leaned over and kissed her cheek, then left my cell and headed straight for the elevator room. Hatchet Face, of course Bonesaw would clone the guy who could make me totally useless. There was no easy way around him either, I’d have to leave it for someone with more range. Theoretically Joy should be capable of killing him, as long as he was at the edge of her range. A little tough, but not the most difficult shot she’d made at this point.

  Despite how far I’d gotten though, there was still no sign of Jack. Dragon certainly would have said something if she’d spotted him with that army. What was he up to then? No doubt he was there, somewhere, but not leading his troops into the fray?

  No, that wasn’t what he did. Jack liked to play puppetmaster, stringing everyone along, making them play his game. The game, in this case, was survival. We had to hold out, beat all of his minions before we got a shot at the boss. Or maybe it was misdirection, sending his horde into the outskirts to distract us while he and some more dangerous capes penetrated the city. That was a terrifying possibility, I’d definitely have to bring it up with Cauldron and the Protectorate. But first I had to get there.

  “Hey Dragon,” I said as I entered the elevator room. “Please don’t be mad, but I’m about to get out of here. It’s for a good reason though, Jack Slash is out and he’s got an army of clones ready and eager to kill us all. He’s heading for New York City, coming from Killington. I know you have to scout things out, but get your transport ready and send Defiant to Detroit for a pick up; they have clones on the road to intercept.

  “Well, hopefully this doesn’t piss anyone off more than I need,” I said to no one in particular. “Eden’s gate, and make it snappy.” I counted up to five before a portal opened in front of me. When no one came through, I braced myself and stepped through.

  “Who told you that phrase?” Contessa demanded as the portal shut, leaving me in Cauldron’s base with the boogeyman.

  “I remembered it,” I replied, tapping my forehead. “Figured it was a good way to not out too many secrets to get your attention.”

  “Who do you remember telling you?” she asked, dogged.

  “You,” I said with a shrug. She studied me quietly, then turned on her heel and stalked into the base.

  With no other clues, I followed after her. Maybe she was using her power, knowing she didn’t need to say anything to get me cooperating; maybe it was just her time of the month. Whatever the case, I readied myself to come face to face with the head of the serpent...again.

  “Doctor Mother, Number Man, Weaver,” I greeted them as I entered the room, ignoring the slight hum of agitated bugs. “The Nine have emerged in Killington and are making their way to New York City. We need to get in touch with the Protectorate and I need to get my team. The Protectorate won’t bite for transporting them, I’m hoping you guys can give us passage there. I know, I know, I don’t command your resources, but it’s our best shot at winning this.” They all studied me quietly, and when Doctor Mother folded her hands I barely suppressed a groan.

  “Your precognitive aspect has changed,” Doctor Mother said.

  “It hasn’t, this is just close,” I countered. “Closer something is, easier it is to remember.”

  “How close?” Weaver asked with a note of tension.

  “Hours,” I replied flatly. “We need to move quickly, can you help?” Doctor Mother glanced at Contessa.

  “I’ll get in contact with the Protectorate as planned,” Weaver said. “When I depart for New York, I can bring her team with me.”

  “Follow Weaver’s lead,” Doctor Mother said. “She’s a highly experienced operative.”

  “Sure,” I agreed quickly. It didn’t matter whether it was her or Miss Militia, as long as I found Jack Slash and killed him. “Can we get a move on? We’re running out of time, and the Protectorate is going to take a while to verify my warning.” God forbid they take me at my word…

  “Don’t worry Amaranth,” Contessa said smoothly. “This plan will work, it’s our best chance.”

  “Great,” I said, barely avoiding rolling my eyes. Then again, she sounded sincere, so maybe… “Thanks for the vote of confidence, if it’s genuine.” She nodded.

  “Where do you need to go?” she asked.

  “My second hideout,” I said, not making an idiot of myself the same way twice; I was more creative than that. “See you soon, Weaver.”

  “See you,” Weaver replied, her voice odd.

  The portal opened and I stepped through. One more time…

  “Well that was fucking terrifying,” Zeke said as we walked out of the PRT headquarters. “Shit boss, you sure we got this?”

  “No doubt,” I confirmed, trailing behind Weaver. “Trust me Zeke, with you guys beside me, this is going to go fine.”

  I hoped, I prayed. Truth be told, I was feeling a hell of a lot more anxious than the last times I’d done this. Even without regulars, I’d felt relatively secure knowing who I was working with. I still did here, hell I was basically in charge of my team, just like old times.

  Except I wasn’t in charge, Weaver was. The warlord, back from the dead, apparently a ‘highly experienced’ Cauldron member. Yeah, it made sense I was feeling anxious being around her. I hadn’t been able to get a read on her back when she was here, and that was a Taylor I had at least some vague memories about. Now though, she was a completely different animal, potentially dangerous to me and mine.

  No, that was a little bit too paranoid. It was still her, I had no doubt she still had the same goal as me: averting the end of the world. I couldn’t trust her to keep the lives of my team a priority, but that was my job anyway. And if push came to shove, she was just one person, not even a Brute. It’d be a quick fight.

  Hopefully it wouldn’t come to that, we couldn’t afford infighting when the planet’s survival was on the line. We could just work together, then go our separate ways...until Cauldron came calling for their favour. Maybe they’d count this and write my debt off, but I wasn’t stupid enough to believe they were so charitable.

  “Door, base,” Weaver said when we’d gathered in an alley. She turned to us as the portal opened in front of her. “Don’t cause any trouble, or else.”

  “Else what, you gonna kill us?” Reese scoffed.

  “No,” she said, shaking her head. “I won’t have to lift a finger.”

  With that cryptic warning, Weaver headed through the portal. I offered Reese a tight grin, then followed after her. We wouldn’t be making trouble, none of us were that stupid. The hallway we all gathered in looked the same as any other, and once the portal shut Weaver led us deeper into the base.

  “We’ll be emerging once the Protectorate makes contact,” Weaver said. “Reinforce where the fighting is bad to preserve as many lives as we can.”

  “And then strike when Jack appears,” I added. “Try to put him down before he can do much damage.” Or end the world.

  “We’ll see,” she said flatly. “That’s not my objective.” What? Perhaps sensing my apprehension, she paused and pressed a panel on the wall, opening a door. “Amaranth, I need to speak with you for a moment. The rest of you wait here.”

  “Hey we’re—”

  “It’s fine,” I cut Zeke’s protest short, eyeing Weaver. “I think I need to talk to her too, figure out our...objective.” We stepped inside the room, and the door shut behind us. Looking around, it looked like a regular doctor’s office. The sheer normality was unnerving, and when Weaver turned I felt a chill run up my spine.

  “Our job isn’t killing Jack Slash,” Weaver began, her voice flat as ever. “Our job is averting the end of the world. Of all people, you should understand the difference.” I narrowed my eyes.

  “I really hope I’m reading you wrong,” I said, voice low and dangerous. “Because it sounds like you want Jack to kickstart things.”

  “Frankly, no, I don’t want that at all,” she said, voice equally low. “But I do want to see humanity survive, and I’ve spent the last year and a half getting ready to play my part. I need to know you understand where our job starts and stops so you don’t screw things up and get everyone killed playing hero.” I had to bite my tongue to not tear a strip off her right there, but faint movement caught the corner of my eye. Glancing down, I saw her hand moving surreptitiously. ‘Not now’.

  “Fine,” I spat, angry but undeniably curious. When had she picked up sign language? Obviously that wasn’t a conversation for Cauldron’s lair. “Let’s get a move on already, this shit’s hard enough when I don’t have the Illuminati breathing down my neck.”

  “I’m going to get some weapons.” Weaver eyed me and cocked her head. “I assume you don’t need more.”

  “No,” I scoffed, patting the heavy bag of explosives. “I’m weighed down enough as is.”

  “Good, it won’t take long.”

  We rejoined my team and continued following her...for now.

  “Man I wish I brought cards,” Zeke groused, leaning against the wall. “Or some dice or something. This shit’s boring.”

  “Rock paper scissors?” J-Dog asked, holding out a hand and getting a shake of Zeke’s head.

  We were all getting bored, antsy. After Weaver had armed herself with some nasty looking weapons that had the whiff of Tinker-tech about them, we’d just sat in a hallway and hurried ourselves to wait. I’d been trying to avoid complaining, but this was starting to get ridiculous; and with my charges already pre-made, there was only so much I could busy myself with before getting frustrated.

  “It’s time,” Weaver said suddenly, her head perking up. “Door, North Yonkers. Let’s move.”

  A portal opened and she stepped through without hesitation. I quickly followed and found myself in a small green space, a little pond at the center surrounded by a ring of bare trees. Tall apartment block rose up around us, but peeking through I could see the Manhattan skyline still miles or more away. Weaver tapped on a small tablet bound to her wrist, then cleared her throat.

  Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

  “Weaver to NYC Protectorate,” she said. “I’m commanding a small team in North Yonkers, here to assist against the Slaughterhouse Nine.” She paused, cocking her head. “Good, then direct us to the nearest battle. We’ll link up and provide support to hero teams.”

  “Been waiting almost an hour,” Joy muttered as she leaned down next to my hear. “Could have provided a lot more support if we got here earlier.”

  “Think she was waiting til she knew where the Nine would be attacking,” I replied. “It’s fine, we’re here and they aren’t quite yet.” At least, not this far into the city.

  “Let’s get moving,” Weaver said loudly. “Contact four blocks north of us, Crawler and Crimson at least.”

  “Right,” I said with a nod. “Move out Terriers!”

  We started running, hot on Weaver’s heels, through the snowy streets of New York City. It was much more what I’d expected, with plenty of towering buildings crammed to the gills with people. A perfect, concentrated target for the Nine to hit.

  Despite that, there weren’t many on the streets. The few civilians we passed gave us a wide berth, running the opposite direction with bags and backpacks weighing them down. The evac order had been given then, and everyone was hauling ass so they didn’t get caught in the crossfire. It would make our job easier at least, not having to worry about them. I sped up a little until I was level with Weaver, glancing over at her.

  “So what couldn’t we talk about in Cauldron’s base?” I asked, voice only loud enough to be heard over the crunch of snow underfoot. “Don’t think I missed your signal.”

  “Didn’t expect you too,” Weaver replied, barely audible. “You were right, Cauldron wants Jack Slash to succeed, but only after his clones have been contained and enough forces have been gathered.”

  “Enough forces for what?” I hissed. “Do you seriously think we can stop him before he kills most of mankind?”

  “There were always going to be casualties,” she retorted. “This is the way to get the fewest possible.”

  “No,” I said, shaking my head. “We can stop Jack, stop any casualties. It might just put things off, but we’ll have more time to prepare, produce more capes—”

  “All while losing more and more to the Endbringers,” Weaver cut me off. “Look, I get it, I wasn’t any happier when I learned this. But the way things are, this is the best option.”

  “I’m still going to try,” I said flatly. “And don’t you dare try to stop me.”

  “Oh I won’t,” she said. “I’d be flat out happy if whatever stupid plan you’ve concocted works. But you can’t beat him, so try and at least survive long enough to be useful against Scion.” I frowned, silent for a moment as we continued running.

  “What if I tell you how you beat him?” I said. “Not us, you personally.” That got her to actually look at me. “No bullshit, we can even have a sit down with Tattletale while we chat so you can get it all verified.”

  “You’re lying.”

  “You remember how I knew your name, way back when I was trying to stop you from getting outed?” I continued. “Same source. Help me take Jack down and I’ll let you in on it, no holds barred, everything I can remember.”

  “Not a lot, from what I remember,” Weaver said dryly.

  “I never told you everything, not remotely,” I snapped. “There are three other people who know the whole story, and one of them is dead. You’d be the fourth.”

  “Fifth,” she retorted. “Tattletale would or has figured it out.”

  “At least consider it,” I said, practically pleading. “Do you really want more blood on your hands? Because I fucking don’t.”

  Weaver didn’t reply, then again what could she really say? ‘Sorry kid, billions must die’. Sure she was coldhearted, but I was certain it wasn’t that bad. But maybe her time with Cauldron had dragged her perspective down far enough that billions was just the cost of doing business. I prayed that wasn’t the case, because she’d been terrifying enough before.

  The sounds of battle grew louder as we approached the third block of our run, and I could see flashes of light between buildings. They were hammering the Nine as much as they could, but apparently it wasn’t effective. No problem, I knew we had a solution in our back pocket. However strong Crawler was at this point, Joy had been able to deal with him.

  And like that, we were there, on a street lit with lasers and marred by battle. Crawler loomed in the middle of the road, roaring as his hide steamed from the scintillating light burning down from on high. I barked for Joy to follow me, but Weaver grabbed my shoulder and held me back. She drew a Tinker-tech pistol and took careful aim. The barrel glowed briefly, then it spat a small bolt of brilliant, golden light. It seemed puny, and Crawler threw himself forward into it eagerly. He let out a throaty chuckle and took a step forward.

  Then he paused and looked down, and I realized he was already dead.

  At the center of his chest, where the golden bullet had struck, a hole ringed by softly-glowing, quickly disintegrating flesh. Crawler screamed and clawed at the burning skin, but it only seemed to spread the effect to his hands. He started loping towards us, pure hate in his eyes. Halfway there, he collapsed as his limbs became stumps. A minute later, he was gone. Weaver tossed the gun aside, and the second it hit the ground it too disintegrated into flakes of golden light.

  “One more,” Weaver said, pointing at a hulking, ruddy figure swinging a sword at a trio of heroes. “My bugs can’t deal with him.”

  “Powers?” I asked, slinging my carbine.

  “He’s tough, but not invincible,” she replied. “Bulletproof, probably at least resistant to your grenades. And Nadir can’t deal with him with those heroes so close.”

  “Hands it is,” I said with a nod. “Be right back.”

  I dumped my bags and charged without another word. Crimson, because it was him by process of elimination, was the only enemy cape on the street. At least, the only one visible. For all I knew, Hatchet Face was waiting down an alleyway to send me straight back to my cell. It seemed, for now at least, my luck held and I reached the battle without being intercepted.

  I wove through the capes fighting Crimson easily, unnoticed until I suddenly rose and intercepted a swing from the villain’s sword. He seemed just as surprised as them, bellowing something unintelligible as spittle from his lips, so red they were nearly purple. I barked at the other capes to get back as Crimson raised his sword to swing again.

  So much training the response was practically automatic. I reached up and slapped the edge of the sword as it raced towards my neck, sending it sailing over my head without even skimming me. My other hand caught his wrist while I grabbed his forearm at the same time. Whatever kind of conventional damage he could shrug off meant nothing in the face of my grip.

  Flesh tore and bone splintered as I dug my fingers in, drawing a muffled below of pain from Crimson. His other arm came down on my head repeatedly, to no avail. I crushed his wrist until it was hanging by threads of flesh, then keeping hold of his broken arm I reached up and grabbed his other wrist as it brought another blow down on me. It tore and shattered, and when I gave it a firm yank the hand came away in mine.

  Crimson was desperate, but he had started dying the moment I got my hands on him. The constant roaring was getting on my nerves, so I seized his jaw and crushed it, then lowered my hand to his throat and grabbed hold tightly. Like Shatterbird, his neck yielded without much persuasion. It was a lot thicker, and I had to grab another handful and crush it hard before he finally keeled over, painting the snow his namesake colour.

  “Goddamn,” one of the capes who’d been fighting swore. “Who the hell are you?”

  “Amaranth,” I replied, shaking my hands to dislodge a little of the gore. “You guys okay?” I looked them over. Their costumes seemed a little beat up, the armour clearly having taken some hits, but I couldn’t spot any blood.

  “We’re alright, thanks for the assist,” another cape said with a nod. He wore a trench-coat over some heavy armour plates, a blue domino mask, and wielded a nasty-looking baton with a pair of wicked points at the end. “I’m Warden, NYC Protectorate. Who are you with?”

  “Weaver and my team: the Terriers,” I said, jerking a thumb towards them. When I cast a glance back, I saw them quickly making their way towards us. “We’re hunting Jack Slash, you seen him?”

  “Wait, the Brockton Bay Terriers?” a girl said. She wasn’t much taller than me, in a black leotard that revealed a well-muscled physique, and had her hands on her hips. “As in the terrorists?”

  “The Nazi killers,” I corrected as my team arrived. “Weaver, heard anything about Jack?”

  “Nothing yet,” Weaver replied, giving Crimson’s corpse a brief look. “Good work. We have more clones to deal with two blocks south.” Joy offered my bags and gave me a hand getting them back on. “Another Crawler and a Breed.”

  “They only coming in ones and twos?” J-Dog said, giving me a look. “Didn’t you call them the Slaughterhouse Nine-thousand?”

  “They’re early, and it might not be literal,” I said, not that I’d considered either of those things before… “And no, we’ll encounter way more when we find the main force.”

  “Until then, another team needs reinforcements,” Weaver said with a note of finality. She looked at the other capes who’d shied away from our heavily armed group. “If you’re combat capable, follow us. Otherwise retreat and protect the civilians.”

  “Nope,” the girl who’d called my team fucking terrorists said, crossing her thickly-muscled arms. “You’re crazy, working with them.”

  “Punch,” Warden said with iron in his voice. “Whatever the circumstances, they are here to help.”

  “Despite my name sir, I’m not drunk enough to work with people worse than the Nine.”

  “Hey, fuck you!” Reese barked, clutching his carbine. At least he was disciplined enough not to shoot the bitch outright, but this wasn’t the time or place.

  “Cool it,” I said sharply. “If you don’t want to work with me, I don’t really give a shit, but you’d better fight.”

  “Of course I’ll fucking fight,” Punch Drunk said. “Yonkers is my home.”

  “Then you know why I fought for Brockton Bay,” I said, turning to Weaver. “Let’s move it, wasted enough time with this crap.”

  “Agreed,” Weaver said.

  She took off running, and I followed behind her after the rest of my team, taking the rearguard position. Casting a brief glance over my shoulder, I saw a couple of the capes detach and start to follow us. Warden stayed behind with Punch Drunk, speaking quietly. Well, whatever, it didn’t matter.

  All that mattered was survival.

  “Man shit,” J-Dog panted, holding a hand to his stomach. “Fuck man.”

  “It’s okay,” Joy said calmly as she pressed a patch of gauze down firmly, drawing a groan from him. “Just a glancing blow, you’re going to be fine.”

  “Don’t feel like it,” he said, face contorted in pain.

  “Weaver, where’s that ambulance?” I asked, glancing over my shoulder.

  “Three minutes,” she replied flatly. “Not long at all.”

  And yet, it might be too long. Another hour of fighting and we’d taken our first casualty, a strike from Hatchet Face that laid J-Dog out. The sole bright spot was he’d caused enough of a distraction for the rest of us to bring the clone down with a pair of explosive charges stuck to his spine. Now we had to keep J-Dog stable while we waited on a PRT pickup.

  God, I could only pray Amy was on duty tonight. She hadn’t been at the briefing, but there was no way the Protectorate hadn’t given her a call, if only to fix up their own people. If not her, maybe Scapegoat, or some other healer who could make sure J-Dog didn’t pay the ultimate price because I’d been too sloppy to deal with the enemy before they closed.

  “They’re here,” Weaver said, perking up slightly. She pointed towards an intersection in the distance, and a moment later I saw the green and white lights of a PRT van approaching. “Let’s move, there’s another—” She went stiff, stiffer than normal anyway, and though I’d hardly seen a bug tonight I could suddenly hear them all around.

  “What’s wrong?” I demanded, gripping my carbine tightly.

  “Jack’s here,” she said quietly. Her hands balled into tight fists. “He’s close. I don’t know how I haven’t spotted him til now.” I pursed my lips and considered it.

  “Bonesaw,” I said with a grimace. “She can counter your bugs, remember?”

  “I haven’t noticed them dying,” Weaver countered. “No, something’s going on. He’s moving south, moving fast.”

  “What are we waiting for?” I said, racking the bolt of my carbine as a PRT van came around the corner and raced towards us, lights flashing. “Nadir, get ready to load J up. Zeke, give her a hand then do an ammo check. Reese, ammo check now.”

  “Hey, slow down,” Weaver said quietly as my team busied themselves with my orders. “Remember what our mission is.”

  “I remember what your mission is,” I said coldly. “I’m still going to stop him. Besides, he’ll definitely have clones you want dead with him. You do your thing, I’ll do mine, but we should at least do it in parallel.” She stared silently for a moment, then gave a microscopic nod.

  “Do what you need to,” she said, looking at her wrist. “Three minutes.”

  I sighed and nodded back, then rejoined my team and started reloading our magazines as quick as we could. We were running low on ammo and explosives now, two hours into the hideous fighting. Silver lining was that, for all the running around we were doing, our load was lightening as we went.

  But we were tired. I could see it in their eyes, in the slump of their shoulders. It was a good thing we’d finally found Jack, because I wasn’t sure how much more they had in them. I could keep going of course, but without them… Well, if it came to that, I had to keep going. That or...hit the reset.

  Not until I saw that rat bastard though.

  “Ready,” I said as I zipped my bag shut and got it on my back. The van had picked up J-Dog and evacuated him a couple minutes ago, but no reinforcements had come with. “Did you report in?”

  “Of course,” Weaver said, her voice odd. “Come on, we need to hurry.”

  Beckoning my team, I followed her down the snow-covered streets. The storm had been picking up, making the going that much harder as we fought on. No silver lining there, the Nine had enough mobility to make it a non-factor. And somehow, terrifyingly, Jack had slipped through the net of the insectoid panopticon and gotten into the city.

  And we were now in the city, half a mile north of Manhattan. The further we’d gone, the longer we’d fought, the more civilians we found. Enough clones had made it through before everyone could get away, and people had fallen in their hundreds. There were clones as well, dead among them. Strangely, a lot seemed to have been killed by conventional bullets. Who the hell else was out here operating like us?

  “Two blocks,” Weaver barked, pointing ahead. “Eyes open, he has at least a half-dozen clones with him.”

  “Any idea on who?” I asked, panting.

  “Bonesaw and maybe a clone of her,” she offered. “Going off their stature anyway. The others are big, but I can’t put too many bugs on them in case I alert them.”

  “Seriously?” I swore under my breath. “Fine, this is going to be a bitch but fine. No way we can get ahead of them?”

  “Not unless you can sprint at thirty miles an hour,” Weaver said dryly.

  “But we’re catching up?”

  “Yes.”

  Well that was something at least. Even I was starting to flag now, my legs and lungs burning like I’d dropped a molotov on myself and inhaled the fumes. But as we got closer, my adrenaline began running high once again. A second wind, or at this point an eighth; hopefully enough to finally put this behind me by putting Jack in a grave.

  “Come on,” I huffed under my breath. “Come on, just once, one and done.”

  “What’s that?” Weaver asked.

  “Nothing,” I said, shaking my head. “Where is he?”

  My question was answered, but not by Weaver. Around the corner ahead came a figure straight out of my nightmares, complete with dreamlike distortions. The black and white skin of the Siberian was covered in hypnotic whorls rather than her usual stripes, and she seemed shorter than usual. In her hand she held a small, football-sized object, clutching it tightly to her body like a quarterbacker.

  Alongside her, holding her other hand, was Bonesaw. She wore a manic grin that fit the bloodstained apron and heavy, gore-splattered gloves. Jack was there too, smiling like it was a warm spring day and he was out looking at daisies.

  I felt a sharp spike of fury burning through my chest, and before anyone could stop me I raised my weapon and fired. The Siberian intercepted my shots, and Jack’s smile grew as he tossed me a lackadaisical salute. Then he pointed with the knife in his hand, and the Siberian charged.

  I dropped my gun, useless against something like her. Of course all of us were useless against her. Weaver backpedaled as Joy took a step forward, reaching out her hand and snapping her wrist downward. To my shock, the Siberian collapsed to the pavement like a ragdoll. She couldn’t even struggle, but she glared hatefully. Jack swung his arm lazily, and I sprung up in front of Joy.

  Too late. I heard her gurgle and felt a warm spray on the back of my head. The moment I hit the ground I turned and caught her as she collapsed. Joy grit her teeth hard, pressing a hand to her throat and keeping her arm outstretched, holding back the Siberian. But she was fading rapidly, and as her eyes grew misty she look up at me and mouthed a silent apology.

  A second later, I found myself sobbing once again in my cell.