This is your official invitation to join the fun

“Come on.” Thatcher taunted. “Try going on offense for once.”

Panting, she withdrew to her corner.

“Give it to him, Sonya.” Cheered Core from the sidelines where she, Evelyn, and Mark sat watching.

“If you refuse to attack I’ll just assume you’re forfeiting,” Thatcher said. “Which means you get to clean up after dinner tonight. Again”

She charged forward. He blocked her first attack and landed a blow on her side. Ducking around to his back, she elbowed him in the kidney. He grunted. Sonya spun with the intent to put him in a choke hold but his hands wrapped around her wrists and flung her back against the wall. She lay there, almost wishing she’d broken something so she didn’t have to do this again.

Though Mark and Evelyn approved of her going on missions, Damian had changed his vote: Thatcher had the final say in whether or not she could go out on her own. This was her fifth attempt after he’d gotten back.

Thatcher chuckled, ambling over with his arms crossed over his chest. “You’ve still got some baby fat to work off, Fletcher.”

She stuck her tongue out at him and he laughed harder. Grabbing her by her shirt collar, he forced her back onto her feet as Mark and Evelyn sauntered over. Evelyn looked satisfied but Mark’s expression was as passive as ever.

Sonya gave them a weak nod, half-leaning against Thatcher’s hold to stay upright.

“C+ for effort,” Thatcher said. “But not much else.”

“She managed to land a hit,” Evelyn countered.

Thatcher scoffed and removed his support causing Sonya’s knees to buckle. She flushed and quickly steadied herself.

“She did well.”

Mark’s praise startled her. He rarely did anything but criticize. Approval from him was like getting a gold star from Isaac. She stood straighter.

Thatcher shook his head, muttering about being too easy. “Sonya, you should cut your hair. When it’s down, it’s too easy to grab.”

“You should keep it,” Evelyn said, ignoring Thatcher’s angered mood. “You can use some stiletto daggers to hold it up in a bun. If you do it right, no one even notices.”

She and Thatcher began to argue over the ideal hairstyle for a Hunter as he pointed to his own recently shaved head as the obvious choice.

Sonya’s attention drift to the side where Keme was undergoing a more vigorous session as he battled Lawrence and Henry. She watched as he managed to hold both of them at bay, snaking his way between the larger pair. Even in the last few weeks, his face had sharpened.

“Sonya?”

She turned to Mark. He pulled her apart from the others, his eyes intent. “With Thatcher passing you, there’s something you need to know.” He paused for a moment before putting his hand on her shoulder. The gesture seemed awkward to him and he tried several different angles before letting his hand drop back down with a shake of his head.

“I want you to put yourself first,” he said at last. “Not your target, not bystanders. Make sure you get back safe.”

“I will.”

He gave her a curt nod before returning to Thatcher and Evelyn where he separated the two before they broke out into a brawl.

Sonya smiled, watching them as the topic shifted to which weapons were best to use.

“Most shooters can’t even hit something if it’s moving,” Evelyn started. “And knives do more damage.”

“After you’ve taken out a target over a mile away with one of your knives, then you can talk to me.”

Thatcher shook his head at both of them with, “None of that matters if you lose your weapon. Best to never rely on one.”

“Shut up, Marion,” Evelyn snapped at him. “Not everyone can Hulk out like you.”

Leaving them before they tried to rope her into the debate, Sonya went straight down to Core’s little lair. No jobs were posted outside the door. Ever since the first snow started falling in the northern regions around Halloween, the network had slowed to a near standstill. Core said it was normal, calling it “hibernation break” like it was some kind of holiday.

She knocked on the woman’s door.

“Come in,” Core shouted.

Sonya poked her head inside. She’d learned the hard way that interrupting the hacker in the middle of a game meant having embarrassing photos pop up all around the house for everyone to see.

Core waved for her to get closer. “I’ve got a siren for you.”

Sonya blinked, feeling like she’d missed part of a conversation. “Huh?”

“You finally came to me for a job, right?” Core wheeled around, her smug grin made Isaac’s arrogance pale in comparison. “Please, don’t look so surprised. I know everything about everyone in this place.” She reached into her shirt pocket and brought out a wrinkled scrap of paper. “It came in a couple days ago so I thought I’d just temporarily misplace it for a while.”

The job was ranked for a single person and listed a town in Iowa she’d never heard of before. Being so far off the coast meant it was the bird-class Siren, a cousin to the Harpy.

“I owe you one,” Sonya said, tucking the paper away.

“You really do.” Core grinned. “But I’m sure I’ll find a way for you to make it up to me. Maybe if your family sent you another one of those care packages.”

“I’m sure I can arrange something.” Sonya thanked her and went straight to her room. Tossing some clothes into her duffel, she read up on the Siren. Low ranking, it took injuries like a normal human and could be paralyzed if its feathers were burned. A quick shower and change of clothes and she dashed down to the communal store, grabbing a knife and a lighter she could fit in her pocket. Her poor aim and the risk of having civilians nearby kept her from taking a gun before she slipped out to the garage.

No one stopped her. No one questioned her. It was all up to her now.

Shuffling inside, she sat at the counter, glancing around. Most of the costumers were men ranging from early thirties to late fifties—the drivers of the trucks outside. Two families with small kids took up the corner booths in a mass of misbehavior and gentle scolding.

If the information in that blasted handbook was right, the Siren was probably one of the waitresses as the creatures prized flaunting their youth and beauty. Sonya checked the menu, a prick of anxiety already working up through her gut.

“How can I help ya, hun?”

Sonya placed an order, smiling the whole time. The woman was probably in her early forties, petite and round faced. Everything about the way she moved said she was in a hurry and didn’t tolerate any nonsense. Not her. Sonya sighed, tapping her boot absently against the stool’s leg. She caught glimpses of the chef—a college aged man with a sheen of sweat from being in the hot kitchen.

Sonya checked the information again. Maybe there was a cleaning lady, or a part-time worker she was missing.

“Michelle, hurry up with the orders!”

A woman around the same age as Sonya bounced out from the kitchen, balancing four plates in her arms. “I’m here. I’ve got it.”

Michelle moved throughout the room with grace, almost dancing as she served up the food. Feather earrings dangled all the way down to her shoulders, sweeping them with each step. Her face was sweet but the way she stared at a couple of the men made Sonya’s skin crawl—it reminded her of staring at the Wendigo.

Found you.

Sonya hung around long after the families had gone, along with half of the truckers. She ordered pie, asked about the local sights, and struck up some small talk with a few of the others. All the while, she watched Michelle. In and out of the kitchen, cleaning tables, and taking orders.

“We’re closing up soon, hun,” The older waitress told her.

Sonya set a generous tip on the counter—it seemed only fair since she was about to permanently remove an employee—and left the shop. She settled in her car, pulling out a map to pretend like she was figuring out which way to drive. A couple of trucks remained in the lot as well. Glancing back at the diner and thrumming her fingers on the steering wheel, it was another fifteen minutes before Michelle emerged.

Wrapped up in a large green coat with feathers poking out from the sleeves and collar, she paused before marching off to where a couple of the younger men lingered. Sonya slid out of her car, sticking to the shadows as she crept along. Michelle approached the two men with a wave and Sonya came up from the opposite side of the truck. She used a pocket mirror to see around the corner of the semi. The three of them talked. One man left, muttering as he climbed into his truck.

Not her type. Sonya scoffed. He’d never know how lucky he was to get rejected.

Michelle led her victim around to the back, heading towards Sonya’s position. Sonya ducked down and slid under the vehicle, using the mirror again to help her see. Their feet crunched the gravel as they came to a stop. Staying on her knees, she crawled until their shoes were only a few inches from her hands.

Sonya held back, wanting to expose the Siren before striking. She rolled her eyes when Michelle drew the man in for a kiss. If it could be called a kiss; it looked more like they were trying to suck each other’s lungs out.

When he resurfaced for breath, she laughed, arms wrapping around his neck. Sonya’s eyes narrowed; Michelle’s coat seemed to shrink, tightening around her. Her nose sharpened, the rest of her face pulling out like a beak. Her mouth towards the man’s neck.

Sonya wrapped her hand around the Siren’s ankle and yanked. Michelle screeched, kicking out.

“Run!” Sonya yelled at the man. He stood, stupefied, looking between the two of them. Michelle lashed out, transforming further into her avian form: the sleeves her coat turning into wings and her fingers sharpening like claws. When she lunged for him, he finally took off.

Michelle turned on her, eyes a deep yellow. Sonya let go, rolling out from under the truck and getting on her feet. Michelle straightened with a piercing cry.

Sonya checked the knife on her hip, wanting to reserve it for plan B. Feeling along her pocket, she pulled out her lighter and gripped it tight.

“If you go up against me,” Michelle said, her voice raspy and high, “I’ll rip your throat out.”

“You’re welcome to try.”

Michelle flapped her wings, rising several feet before dropping down to the ground, kicking off in a launch right towards Sonya. Sonya ran towards her. She leapt, colliding with the Siren in midair. Sonya shoved her elbow into Michelle’s face. The Siren’s claws latched onto her arm. Sonya gripped the Siren’s wing and tore out a handful of feathers. Michelle flung her away. Sonya landed ankle first; she could feel it shifting out of place and twisting painfully as she tumbled along the pavement.

Michelle doubled back, only a few yards away. Sonya clicked on the lighter and burned the first feather. The siren screamed, shuddering before going limp on the ground. Her eyes flitted in a panic but her body remained still.

Sonya pulled herself into a sitting position, puffing as she set up a little fire of feathers to give her time to check her ankle. She peeled her socks back and grimaced at the skin already starting to bruise. Even before inspecting it, she knew it was a bad sprain. One that would take weeks, even months, to heal properly.

“Damn it,” she growled, hopping up onto her right leg. She half-limped, half-jumped towards the Siren, taking more pleasure than she should’ve when she ripped out enough feathers for the trip back.

***

Sonya pulled into the garage, one of the Siren’s feathers burning like incense in an ashtray beside her. She shuddered when she had to move her left leg, her foot bumping against the door and sending a jolt up her spine. It was almost noon as she’d driven through the night to get here.

She went slow. Hobbling awkwardly as she steered the Siren through the connecting hall.

Thatcher stood inside the door. By the rumpled and abnormally non-sweaty state of his clothes, she knew he’d been waiting for her.

“What happened?” He hooked an arm under her shoulders, nearly carrying her. He pushed the cart with his other hand. His face held sympathy but she only felt embarrassment. Sirens were low ranking and she still managed to mess it up.

“Got careless for a second,” she said. “We better take her down fast, she’ll start moving any second now.”

He nodded. “I’ll do it. You go see West.” Guiding her to the wall, he took the Siren to the service elevator.

Sonya puffed out her cheeks. She knew what the doctor would say: she was done with hunting for the year. Shuffling along the wall, she made it to the atrium in peace. With each step, she swore, desperately trying not to cry.

“Can’t say I’m surprised to see you hurt yet again.” Keme emerged from one of the branching hallways. She wanted to punch the arrogant smile right off his face. “You were never meant to fit in here.”

“Nice to see you too.” She left the wall and tried walking on her own, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of her weakness.

“You’ll never beat me as you are now.” He circled around her in a few easy strides; it made her feel like a caged animal.

“Have fun taking care of Damian’s pets, Fletcher.”

When he strolled past, he rammed his shoulder into her, almost knocking her over.

If Keme wanted this to be personal, she still had one last card to play.

Hobbling as fast as her awkward walk could carry her, she returned to her room and took her desk chair, shoving it up beneath the doorknob. She tossed off her coat and hopped to the other side of her bed. Prying off the air duct covering, she retrieved the leather journal. She flipped to about a third way through and placed her hand on one particular line. “Healing” was written in the cramped side margin. Above the foreign language, she’d noted the pronunciation and best guess for what it all meant. She scanned it over a few times, an excitement simmering along the edge of her spine.

She was actually beginning to believe that something was going to happen if she said it outright. Monsters were real. So this magic or cursing or whatever it was—why couldn’t that be real too?

Sonya cleared her throat, feeling rather shy at what she was about to do. What if nothing happened? What if all that time had just been a wasted hope? And what if it did work? What did that make her?

It’ll probably do nothing and I’ll feel like an idiot.

She stared down at the page. She couldn’t be afraid of the unknown anymore.

With her finger guiding her through, her tongue stumbled across the words: Dagai kin namedisu. Sansek kin okishika. Kozatre cono vin zintere cono cre naven. She paused when she finished, waiting for something—anything—to happen.

You are really are an idiot.

She stuffed the journal back into its compartment and headed for the bathroom when a sharp pain started behind her eyes. Half-collapsing onto her bed, she sat down with her head resting on her knees. The pain intensified until it became a red-hot poker shoving itself into her brain, burning it from the inside out. It consumed her eyes, turning them into acid. The light in the room scorched her and she staggered forwards, feeling her way to the sink. Her vision fogged as she turned the cold water on and shoved her head underneath. It did nothing to help. The heat radiated down to her neck and shoulders. She buried her face into a nearby towel and screamed. The pain drew back up to just behind her eyes where it clawed and burned before everything shut off.

“Hello again, brat.”

Sonya jerked to one side as she heard the voice of the Tracker she’d killed. His teeth were long and sharp and his red flannel shirt had dark stains over his heart. She stumbled back as he raised the same hunting knife she’d used to run him through. Blood coated the weapon and it dripped down his arm. “Didn’t think you got rid of me that easy, did you, brat?”

He ran towards her and she took off at a sprint. She couldn’t do this. She wasn’t ready to face him again.

Sonya veered sharply, half-tripping at the change of direction. The hallway stretched on as she passed door after door. The prisoners inside were breaking free of their cages, joining the Tracker in his hunt. She glanced over her shoulder as the creatures began to overtake her. “Somebody help me!” She tried to pull herself out of the nightmare but the world around her remained solidly intact. She scanned for some corner to turn or stairs to climb but there was nothing. The voice had taken her straight towards a dead end.

“You’re mine, brat. One pierced heart for another.”

The end door swung open but the light spilling out was too blinding for her to see inside.

The tip of the Tracker’s knife cut into her back as Sonya dove into the room. She tumbled across the solid floor and heard the door slam. A roar of frustration pounded outside before everything went silent. Sonya panted, her head thunking down onto the cool stone beneath her. If something was going to kill her in here, at least it was polite enough to wait.

Propping herself up, she tried to figure out if jumping in was the right thing to do. The room matched the rest of the underground structure except for the single occupant inside. In the center of the room, in a metal chair, a woman sat with short brown hair over hunched shoulders. None of the monsters she’d seen with Damian or her mentors had ever been chained before but her ankles, wrists and waist were all bound in a fine, metal chain that reflected a faint purple in the light. As she watched, the chain cracked; gray smoke leaked out through the openings, giving the woman an ominous aura.

Getting on her feet, Sonya checked her back but her hand came back bloodless despite the pain she felt.

Just a dream. If only she could believe that.

“Hello?” She approached the limp figure before poking the woman in the shoulder.

“I’m so glad you’ve finally come for me.” The voice sounded as though it hadn’t been used before. Her head raised in jerking motions and Sonya screamed when she saw her own face. Thin, almost to the point of emaciation, the chained woman smiled up at her with faint lips and eyes of such a pale green that the iris disappeared into the whites of her eyes. Her pinprick pupils roamed about the room like a curious child which only made her translucent skin and the great bags under her eyes seem all that more freakish. “I’ve missed you, sister.”
Chapter 10
Sonya jerked upright, flailing out against the darkness. The image of the pale woman burned in the back of her eyes. Her lips moved soundlessly as her face pleaded. Don’t forget me. The voice resonated inside her.

Her heart drummed painfully against her chest. A flash of lightning illuminated the room. The storm must’ve blown out the electricity because the bathroom light was dark even though the switch was on. Shakily getting to her feet, it took a moment before she realized the pounding she heard was from behind the door—her chair was still jammed up against it to make entry impossible.

“Sonya!” Someone yelled. “Sonya, answer me!”

She staggered forward, the room spinning. Another flash of lightning. The pounding on the door mixed with the heavy sounds of rain.

“C—coming.” Her voice cracked. She pressed her hands against her temples to try and stabilize herself as she made it to the door. Kicking the chair out of the way, West, Core, and Mark spilled inside.

Sonya panted and let her shaking legs give way as she slid down the wall. West came forward first, taking her wrist to feel her pulse.

“Thatcher said you were injured,” West explained. “That was four hours ago. When you never showed up, I came by to check on you. Can you tell me what happened?”

Sonya looked down at her left ankle and rotated it a couple times. It felt fine. Those words from the journal, her “power” had worked. But at what cost?

When West asked her again, she shook her head.

“You were screaming,” Core said. “Sounded like you were being tortured.”

Sonya pushed away West’s light when he checked her eyes, cringing under the brightness. She attempted to clear her throat to speak but ultimately settled for a haggard smile.

Mark hooked a hand beneath her arm and pulled her up. Her knees wobbled and she used him as a crutch; he had enough kindness to stand close enough so the others wouldn’t notice.

West frowned, staring at her like a third eye had opened on her forehead. Her fingers reached up and touched the spot. She hadn’t checked herself before opening the door. While the book healed her ankle, a paranoia gripped her that her ankle wasn’t the only thing that had changed.

“What is it?” She ended up wheezing the words.

“Did—” he paused. “Were your eyes always a bit green?”

Sonya left Mark’s support, using the walls and furniture to keep herself upright as she made her way to the bathroom. The water was still running. Turning the faucet, she flipped the light switch before remembering the power was out. Pulling out the lighter from her hunt, she nearly pressed her face right up against the mirror in her inspection with the small flame. Between the black pupil and purple iris there was a new ring of green. She tilted her head to ensure it wasn’t a mere trick of the light. Rubbing her eyes until the whites turned pink, she checked again but the result was the same.

She sat on the edge of the tub, burying her face in her hands as she tried to guess how badly she’d screwed herself over this time.

“Then again,” she muttered to herself, “how much worse could it possibly get?”

Sonya kept her mounting anxiety bottled up as she studied her eyes one last time. The image of her chained doppelganger came to mind and her stomach clenched. It meant nothing. She refused to acknowledge anything else. Perhaps her brain was simply filling in the gaps for what she’d done to it.

West asked the others to leave so he could examine her in private. Core protested. Sonya didn’t hear West’s response but a few moments later, she was alone with him. He asked to check her eyes again, penlight in hand. She humored him for a moment before threatening to destroy his flashlight if he didn’t stop.

“Go ahead,” he smiled. “I’ve got a whole drawer full of these babies. Break away.”

She snatched the penlight from his hand and stuffed it into her pocket. “I’m not here for glasses. You’re not going to find anything in my eye.”

“I’ll be the judge of that, Miss Smarty Pants.” He made her sit on the bed, feeling around the back of her head for any lumps while asking about symptoms. She dismissed his concern, saying it was nothing.

West approached her slowly, the faint emergency lights casting his face in sinister shadows as he closed in. She scooted backward on the cot.

“You forget, Sonya.” He placed one hand on either side of her legs and leaned over. “I was there before you opened the door. I heard your screams.”

She continued to retreat until her back hit the headboard.

“Should I repeat the question?”

“My head hurt,” she confessed. His face told her he didn’t believe the answer. “It really hurt.”

“A migraine?” He stood up and she crossed her legs. It made the exchange feel more like a conversation than examination.

“Worse. I don’t know how to describe it.... sort of like hot pokers had replaced my eyes. My brain felt like it was melting.”

He muttered back her last few words before pulling out his smartphone. With the dim light distracting him, she watched her ankles, circling them. She still couldn’t believe it worked.

“You were chasing a Siren, right? Did it bite you? Were there any other monsters at the scene? Did you eat? Maybe something tasted or smelled strange?”

“I wasn’t bitten. And I didn’t notice anything out of place, but I was pretty focused at the time. Maybe I missed something.” She wanted to keep his suspicions off her.

“I’ll have Core keep an eye out on the hospitals in that area.”

“Or,” Sonya interjected, rather too loudly, “how about non-supernatural explanations?” She didn’t want his curiosity to get out of control.

“You mentioned your head hurting, what about your neck? Did you have any sensitivity to light?”

“Yeah, both of those.”

He scratched his chin while he scrolled through his phone some more. “What you described does sound similar to a cluster migraine. But they’re rare. Probably more rare than Sirens.”

“It won’t happen again, will it?”

Maybe she could convince herself the headache and incantation weren’t linked.

“I don’t know. Were you doing anything before the attack started?”

“Just reading.”

West rubbed the back of his neck. “Doesn’t explain your eyes.” He moved in close again, doubt creeping into his eyes. “You didn’t take anything from the infirmary, did you? Thatcher was prattling on like your bone was sticking out through your skin. And I know some of the things we’ve got can help with healing and whatnot but you could end up killing yourself if you use the wrong—”

“I didn’t take anything.” Sonya finally cut it. He obviously didn’t believe it but she’d rather be labeled a liar and a thief than something that belonged in the basement.

Before letting her leave, West took several blood samples, a cheek swab and about a dozen other bits of her to test. She was clear to work unless the pain returned. He was just starting to leave when Evelyn burst inside, panting and annoyed. She shoved West out of the way.

“Do you have anything you want to say to me?” she barked at Sonya.

“No?”

Evelyn placed her hands on her hips, obviously disliking the answer. But Sonya would never tell her, or anyone here, what had happened. They’d call her crazy, they’d call her a witch. No one would want her to stay.

“My ankle did hurt but it’s fine now. And I had a nightmare—dreamt the Siren got me. Nothing more.”

Evelyn stared her down but Sonya didn’t look away, keeping her gaze soft as she tried to make herself look as innocent as possible. A small piece of her wanted to confide in Evelyn about the book and what had happened, to release her fears. But the past two months had shown her that creatures of power didn’t get treated as humans. She wouldn’t risk getting kicked out. She liked being here, bruises and all.  

A whole week passed and nothing new came in. Most of the Hunters—the twins, Evelyn, Lawrence, and a handful of others she hadn’t yet got to know—left until it was only her, Keme, Isaac, Mark, Thatcher, Core, and Kelvin. Damian dropped in for a few hours one day after a business trip to Honduras.

More tan than she’d ever seen him, he greeted her with a hug and congratulated her on her first official job. “How is the little competition going?”

He seemed like a proud father asking about his children’s school projects. “With the Siren, I’m still ahead but not by much.”

He nodded, eyes crinkling with a smile. “Business always comes in around the Winter Solstice. I’m sure you’ll have your pick of jobs then.”

And so would Keme. She stifled a groan before it could leave her throat. She was already tired of the whole arrangement, tired of people glaring or cheering at her just because of a bet and not because of what she’d actually done. It made her feel like she was nothing more than entertainment until the Hunters got a new set of recruits to pit against each other. Not that she had any intention of backing down.

She walked alongside Damian, realizing too late he’d said something else.

“I’m sorry?” she asked.

“How are the others treating you, my dear?”

Sonya studied his face for any sort of tell, wondering if anyone had told him about the Mavtock. “Good,” she said. “Though some of them are still getting use to me.”

“Yes, that can happen.” He guided her towards the library, sitting by the fireplace. He used his cane to push a small black button on the side and flames sparked up behind the fake logs. “I remember Isaac having a particularly hard time adjusting himself. But I’m glad to see you’ve decided to stay on.” He cozied up to the fire but watched her from the corner of his eye. “There would be no shame in leaving.”

She sat across from him but said nothing. She still had unanswered questions about herself and this place, with all its connections, was her best shot at getting information. “Would it sound dumb if I said that I feel like I belong here?”

“Not at all.”

The next day, Damian took off to New York for a conference. Soon after, Isaac and Keme disappeared with one of the trucks. Thatcher and Mark stayed around to help her practice and improve though shooting was still her weakness and she almost never managed a single hit on Thatcher while sparring. Sonya spent her free time in the basement with Zoe, helping her do a headcount of all the cells while she gave some insider secrets.

“Going out on a smaller jobs is a good way to go. They usually take less time and if you can pull it off by yourself, you get more point.” Zoe opened another latch, peering inside before making a few notes on a clipboard and moving on. Sonya shut and locked the latch, trailing behind the other woman. “You should probably start a few group missions first. Cut your teeth a bit.”

“Easier said than done,” Sonya muttered, locking another latch. She still hated being downstairs. The constant scrapings and moans made her constantly look over her shoulder but it didn’t seem as intimidating as her first day.

“Alright!” Zoe clicked her pen and stuck it behind her ear. “Everything’s still in place. “Now, how about we go to the kitchen and steal some of Nick’s gelato?”

“Actually, I was hoping to ask you about—”

The resounding clang of the service elevator doors opening cut her off.

Zoe shuffled towards the noise, grumbling about the elevator being broken again when Isaac and Keme came strolling out, Keme pushing a cart with a writhing bundle on top. A shrill cry pierced through the hall and Isaac kicked the side.

Sonya ran, getting to them before Zoe. She peeled back the top later of blue plastic. Thick, dark goo strung out between the covering and the skeletal face of a Wraith. Its skin looked like murky water; blind eyes roved around in a panic.

“How did you find it?” The network was silent. It didn’t make sense.

Isaac smirked. “Nothing can escape a black hole. Remember, Fletcher?”

Zoe came up, looking between the monster and the two Hunters. “That’s five points to each of you.”

Sonya grabbed Isaac’s wrist when he tried to push the Wraith down the hall. “How did you find it?”

“Core’s not the only one with access to information.” He shoved her off and walked with Keme as Zoe took them down the hall to an empty cell.

Sonya stared after them, her fists balled tight. Keme was winning.