Vertigo lay on his cot. The frame under the thin mattress dug into his spine. He ignored it. He kept reliving the conversation with the woman who called herself an angel, over and over again, until he wanted to scream. Half-breed. Demon. Monster. He couldn't seem to make himself shut it off. It was always there somewhere in the back of his mind. Pressing the heels of his hands to his eyes, he wished fervently that he could just fall asleep and maybe have some peace for a while, but between the loop replaying in his head and the snatches of gossip he kept overhearing outside his tent that wasn't going to happen anytime soon.

  Rain pattered softly against the canvas overhead, a constant drizzle that had been falling since morning. The air inside the tent was damp and chilly despite the small brazier glowing in the corner. Vertigo pulled his blanket tighter around his shoulders, but the chill seemed to come from within.

  In the day and a half since Commander and Vertigo had reappeared at the camp with an unconscious Nathan, a bloodied Bliss, and a captured silver-haired Talent, the gossip was already getting out of control. Whispers ran through the camp like wildfire, rumors growing wilder with each retelling. Everyone had a theory, and none of them was flattering.

  “I heard she beat up the Trio,” a soldier muttered as she passed by the tent, not quite softly enough that Vertigo couldn't hear her. In the corps, everyone knew that the Trio - himself, Nathan, and Bliss - were Commander's elite, the best fighters, the most dangerous Talents. The idea that someone had taken all three of them down was unsettling to the rank and file.

  “Beat up nothing,” her compatriot responded. “I've seen Nathan take a slug big as my fist to the gut and he only needed a day or two before he was good as new. It's like she took the fight outta him. Hell, did you see Bliss this morning? Almost broke Sleepy’s arm when he asked her what happened.”

  An hour or an eternity later, another small group passed by. “Bliss attacked Vert that one time when they first met, remember? Maybe it was all part of some big plan to send them after her? He just needed to see what she could do?”

  “What, he wants to recruit her?” Another soldier scoffed at the first. “After what she did?”

  A third chimed in, excitement in his voice. “She's powerful, no doubt about it if she could take them on. With her on board, we'd be unstoppable.”

  “More like he should string her head up by that pretty hair,” the second responded. “No way Commander would risk his three best soldiers like that. No, he’s got something else planned.” Their voices faded as they moved out of earshot.

  Restless, he pushed himself upright and flung his cloak on, wrapping his scarf tightly about his neck, taking comfort in its protective wrapping. The soft leather of his gloves creaked as he pulled them on, the buckles of his boots jangling as he laced them tight. His massive sword, nearly as tall as he was, rested against the tent pole. He left it for now, not wanting to appear as though he was looking for a fight.

  He stalked through camp, the cool drizzle beading on his cloak, looking for something to occupy himself, soaking in the rumors. Some of them hushed quickly when they noticed him; others turned away and continued their conversation in more conspiratorial tones. The air felt charged, as if the camp itself was holding its breath, waiting for something to happen.

  “Bonediggers'r talking about challenging Commander's leadership,” one of the men on weapons cleaning duty muttered to the group. He didn't try to hide it as if it were unthinkable, as if he were afraid of being overheard. In fact, another soldier nodded her head in agreement. Another grunted in disapproval. Vertigo melted back into the shadows of the adjacent tent to listen for a moment.

  Vertigo's blood ran cold. The Bonediggers were one of the toughest squads in the corps, a band of hardened soldiers who specialized in close-quarters combat. They made noise occasionally, but mostly to negotiate better pay or resources.

  “Crow's serious this time,” the female soldier added, polishing the shortsword she held to a mirror shine. “He's startin' to make promises. Says Commander’s lost his head, treatin’ her like a guest instead of a prisoner.” Her emotionless voice sent a shiver down Vertigo's spine. Coup attempts weren't uncommon, but they always ended in failure, more often than not from within the ranks than by any action on Commander's part. Part of it was rivalry, one group not wanting to see another gain too much power, but mostly it was the fact that Commander brought so much to the table. Money, food, weapons, it was all top tier, and if anyone were to destroy the status quo, everyone would lose out. Still, the temptation was always there in one form or another, and the mood was more restive than usual. He'd never seen this much discontent.

  “He's got to put her down soon, or shit will get tight,” a lanky soldier responded, sighting down the barrel of a just-cleaned rifle.

  “Do that, and everyone makes him out as a weak leader who caves the second there might be a threat.” Vertigo vaguely recognized the gruff voice as belonging to one of the older soldiers, a grizzled veteran recently come on board. “He lets the front-liners start makin’ decisions for him, there’ll be no end to it.”

  “Great logic coming from the man constantly staring at her ass,” says someone else. Forced laughter rang out.

  “I can't suss it out,” the older man insisted, pounding a fist on the table. “I can figure most of his decisions, but not this time. It don't make a damn lick of sense.”

  “What doesn't make sense?” Commander's voice rang out. Vertigo’s heart leapt in his throat and he stepped out of cover.

  The gruff-voiced, bearded mercenary looked down at his hands, stilled in their work at stripping a rifle. “Silver haired freak,” he mumbled. “Her being alive after what she did. Nobody can crack it.”

  “Ah, the great mystery of life,” Commander drawled, lazy and threatening. “How do any of us live? Heh, you can live more easily knowing she'll be out of your asshairs for a few days, and you can pass that on to your limp dick friends. Done musing?”

  “Aye,” the mercenary said, color flooding his face. The others had gone very still, hoping not to draw attention.

  “Will wonders never cease. Vertigo, Nathan, and Bliss will be off duty roster for a few days. Go ahead and gossip till your heads explode, so long as you can manage to do two things at once. Gear'll be ready by sundown, spread the word.”

  “Sir,” the man acknowledged, jaw tight.

  “Oh, and tell the Bonediggers they have latrine duty.” Commander grinned wolfishly. “Shit talkers are shit diggers, as my pa always said. Heh, never mind. You never met him, and he was an asshole anyway.” Commander glanced up and motioned with his head at Vertigo to join him. “Vert, with me.”

  Vertigo fell in beside Commander, matching his long strides as they moved through the camp. The rain was beginning to taper off, the clouds parting to reveal a steely gray sky. The air smelled of wet canvas and damp earth, with the underlying scent of woodsmoke and cooking food. Vertigo's stomach growled, reminding him that he hadn't eaten since the night before. Apathy borne of weariness kept him from asking questions, so he just followed to Commander's tent. Pushing the entrance flap open, he stopped dead in his tracks.

  The silver-haired woman looked up at him wordlessly from her place in Commander’s chair, her posture relaxed and regal. Those mirror-like silver eyes reflected nothing. They stared at each other for a moment. Silently, Vertigo let the tent flap fall and spun to face Commander, heart hammering. “What the fuck are you thinking?” he hissed. “Why is that bitch in your tent?”

  Commander looked at him mildly, expression unreadable. “Calm down, Vertigo,” he said, making no attempt to match Vertigo's tone.

  “Calm down?” His voice rose. “You want me to fucking calm down? I'll calm down when the bitch is dead, that's what! She's a danger to us and everyone else around her! What the hell is your problem?” A warning prickle of heat danced in his hands.

  “Hey hey hey.” Commander waggled a finger in front of his face. “Remember, you're talking to a superior officer here, and right now my problem is you. I expect you to be civil, and that's an order. Understood?”

  “She tried to-” Commander looked at him. That was all, but it was enough to make Vertigo shut his mouth with a snap. “Yes, sir.”

  “After you, then.” Commander held the tent flap open, gesturing for Vertigo to precede him. The tent was spacious, divided into sections by hanging canvas partitions. The front area served as a meeting space, with a wooden table surrounded by folding chairs, maps and documents spread across its surface. Commander's personal quarters lay beyond, and to the right was a smaller section that served as his office.

  Vertigo flopped himself into a chair and crossed his arms over his chest, not looking at either of the other two. His jaw clenched tightly as he tried to contain his rage. Commander set out three cups and poured water, the trickle of liquid the only sound breaking the silence. He settled back into his own chair and laced his fingers together over his stomach, the very picture of ease, though Vertigo knew better. Commander was never truly relaxed; it was a front he put on to make others underestimate him. “So, have you had a chance to think over my offer?”

  Vertigo tensed, shooting a suspicious glance between them. He'd been unaware that Commander had made her any kind of offer, and he decided that he really didn't want to know the details of that. Whatever game Commander was playing, it wasn't one that included Vertigo yet, and knowing him the offer was likely explicit anyway.

  The woman merely lifted her chin in response, her weird silver eyes now flat and still. The way she looked at Commander made him curious. It wasn't quite like she knew him, but she seemed almost... trusting. If she had a problem with... with Talents, he didn't have a good explanation for the difference in the way she was treating Commander versus the way she'd looked at him in the alley. It wasn't exactly friendliness but she obviously wasn't ready to kill him either.

  “It sounds possible,” she finally responded. “What exactly would I be doing for you in exchange?” Her voice, although no longer heavy with anger, was still odd. She had a slight accent he couldn't place and she spoke at a lower pitch than most women, a smoky undercurrent lacing her words.

  “Nothing too major.” Commander tilted his head back, eyeing her. “There's someone who's been pissing me off lately and I want to show her what happens when you piss me off. Throw in your firepower, run with my elite squad.”

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  “Your elite squad... I assume you mean those half-breeds?” She narrowed her eyes at Vertigo, and he felt a fresh jolt of sick shock. Not human. Part monster. The implications made his stomach twist.

  Commander sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I thought we'd agreed not to use that word....?”

  She gave him a calculating look and said something in a language Vertigo didn't understand, full of liquid syllables. Commander responded harshly in the same language, and Vertigo blinked. Commander knew a couple of different languages, but he'd never heard this one before.

  The stranger bared her teeth slightly and bit out, “You expect me to work with that... that...” She obviously couldn't find a word vile enough to describe Vertigo. He glared back at her, the heat in his veins rising again, threatening to burst into literal flame. His hands clenched into fists at his sides, the leather of his gloves creaking.

  “Yes, and I expect you all to play nicely with one another.” Commander’s tone was calm but firm.

  She was instantly on her feet, fists clenched, hair crackling with static electricity. The air in the tent grew charged, the hairs on Vertigo's arms standing up. “No! I won't! You can't ask me to play nice with demonai scum!”

  “You sign up for the corps, you place yourself under my orders.” Commander's voice was steel now, all pretense of casualness gone. “You work with the demonai scum or not at all.”

  “Not at all then! I don't want anything to do with them!” The crackle of electricity intensified, and for a moment Vertigo thought she might actually attack. His hand moved to where his sword would be, before remembering he’d left it in his tent.

  Commander scowled at her in a way that, had it been directed at him, would have caused Vertigo to drop the subject immediately. “If you want my help, you don't have a choice. Your first assignment is to integrate so that you'll be able to fight together, maybe even teach them a few new tricks.” Vertigo sourly noted that no one had asked his opinion on the subject, but kept his mouth shut.

  She folded her arms over her chest. “You want to play with fire-” her pointed gaze in Vertigo's direction said literally - “that's your business. But don't expect me to play nice with half-breeds, demi-breeds, or anything else you've taken in out of the goodness of your heart, because I won't associate with them. Being in the same camp is bad enough.”

  “Commander-” Vertigo started, unable to contain himself any longer.

  Commander cut Vertigo off with a sharp hand motion, keeping his eyes on the woman. “What about them?” He fixed her with a steely glare.

  “They're.. they're...” She struggled to find the words, her composure cracking for the first time since Vertigo had entered the tent. There was genuine disgust in her expression, mingled with something that might have been fear.

  “Monsters? Freaks? Evil?” Commander supplied, his voice mild but carrying an underlying edge that Vertigo recognized all too well. “Hardly. Most of them are just scared, orphaned kids who don't realize who they are or what's happening to them, or they're just trying to get by as best they can. Where's a strong Talent with no guidance or resources going to end up? In trouble, that's where. So...” He spread his hands. “I put them to use. I give them a purpose for their existence and an outlet for their energy. Isn't that better than waiting until they go insane, or killing them needlessly?”

  “Sooner or later, they're going to snap and start rampaging,” she argued, silver eyes flashing.

  “Why should they, if they're well-adjusted enough?” Commander countered. "Teach a man to control his strength, and he's less likely to break things by accident. Teach a Talent to control their power, and they're less likely to burn down a village in a fit of pique." There was something in his tone that Vertigo couldn’t quite place, something ancient and tired.

  “Because it's in their blood, their nature. They can’t fight it forever. You of all people should know what happens when-”

  “I haven't seemed to have trouble with any of mine. Now drop the subject.” There was real steel in his voice. “Now...” He leaned back, resting his hands at the back of his neck and resting one ankle on the opposite knee. “Why don't you two get to know each other? I believe you've met briefly already.” There was a spark in his hazel eyes that made Vertigo grit his teeth and wish he could take a swing at him.

  Silence reigned, thick and uncomfortable. Outside, the rain had stopped completely, and Vertigo could hear the sounds of the camp coming back to life—voices calling to one another, the clang of weapons being maintained, the sizzle of cooking fires. Commander gave Vertigo another look. He sighed, realizing that neither of them was leaving this tent until some sort of communication happened. “What's your name?” he muttered harshly, looking past her. He was brimming with questions, and none of them were for her, but if he wanted any answers at all now was not the time.

  She sighed and rolled her spooky silver eyes. “You can call me Kaelan.” She spoke her name with the same accent as the other language she'd spoken to Commander.

  “I can call you?” he mocked. “What, too good to give us your real name?”

  Her full lips tightened a fraction, the only sign that he’d annoyed her. “It is my real name. And what sort of a 'real' name is Vertigo?”

  Commander quirked an eyebrow, and unaccountably embarrassment washed through him, something that usually never happened when people asked. “It's a nickname,” he growled. “It stuck.”

  “Ah, yes,” Commander interjected, throwing an arm over Vertigo's shoulders. “Our Vert was quite the klutz back in the day. Breaking things all over the place. Stumbling into everything, and everyone. We wondered if he had some sort of brain problem. Why, I remember the time-”

  “Damn it, Commander,” Vertigo bit out tersely, tensing under Commander's arm. “Not now.”

  Grinning, Commander subsided, though his arm remained around Vertigo as though holding him in place. Kaelan merely gave them a look of disgust. The conversation, such as it was, stalled to a halt.

  “Alright then.” Commander stood. “I guess there'll be plenty of time to get cozy later. Kaelan, why don't I give you a tent to call your own.” He gestured for her to precede him out of the tent. Kaelan rose and swept out without sparing another glance for Vertigo. He felt at once relieved and slighted. Commander had meant it as a dismissal for him as well, but right now he had other things on his mind. He stayed put, and when Commander returned it was clear that he wasn't pleased. “Vertigo. Still here?” Commander busied himself with a stack of papers on his desk, organizing them into piles without really looking at them.

  “What's the play here, Commander?” Vertigo asked bluntly, leaning forward. “Cause this is bullshit.”

  Commander’s attention remained on the documents. Clearly he was playing for time.

  Vertigo tried to think of another approach. “What was that language?”

  “It's called Celestial. You might say it's the language of magic. Comes in handy when studying spells.” His head stayed down, hands still occupied with documents, randomly shuffling paper.

  Vertigo sighed and came straight to the point. “What's this demonai, half-breed business?” His tongue struggled around the unfamiliar word.

  “Hm.” Commander still wasn't looking at him. “There are some interesting theories out there about Talents. Not to mention some old prejudices. It's nothing you need to worry about.”

  “Kaelan, in the alley,” Vertigo insisted. “She said something about angels and demons. She said she was an angel and I was some kind of part demon.”

  “Shit.” Commander sighed and put a hand to his forehead, sinking heavily down into his chair. Vertigo waited. It was a long moment before Commander spoke again. “If I tell you some things, can I trust you not to say anything to Nathan or Bliss until I can sit down with them and explain properly?”

  Vertigo nodded wordlessly, already determined to break that promise.

  “It's true. She's an angel.”

  His eyes widened at the confirmation. It had been clear that there was something off about her, and she was more powerful than anyone he'd ever come up against – with the possible exception of Commander himself – but hearing it made it suddenly real. “Wait. Angels really exist?”

  “Yes.”

  “And demons? And you knew about this? How?”

  “I know all sorts of things the average person would kill for. By the way, that's accurate.” Commander’s smile was grim. “People hear rumors about a real-life angel or demon around, they're likely to get spooked. Imagine what happens in some places when they figure you're a Talent, only ten times worse. So don't go around talking about it.”

  Vertigo thought of the wariness with which common folk regarded Talents. The fear in their eyes, the suspicion. The occasional lynch mob, the burning of Talents at the stake in more remote villages. If what Commander said was true...

  “So if she was telling the truth about being an angel...” Vertigo swallowed, his mouth gone dry. “I'm... part demon?”

  Commander nodded slowly, watching him carefully.

  “And Nathan? And.... Bliss?”

  Commander nodded once more.

  If he'd been standing, Vertigo would have staggered. A rush of dizziness enveloped him, as though the world had suddenly reversed its turn and he had nothing to hold onto. The tent seemed to spin around him, the walls closing in. He gripped the arms of his chair tightly, his knuckles turning white beneath his gloves. “What about you? You've got Talent...”

  “I do have demon blood in me, yes. That's where magic comes from. Demons interbreeding with mortals occasionally, passing on the abilities. Naturally half-demons are weaker than full-bloods, but we're still leagues more powerful than your average mortal with a quarter or a drop of demon in them.”

  The casual way Commander said it, as if it were common knowledge, made Vertigo's blood boil. All this time, all these years, and Commander had never once mentioned this. Had never once warned them about the possibility of angels coming to hunt them down just for existing.

  “So why doesn't she hate you?” Vertigo demanded, anger rising. “She was out for blood with all three of us just because we're...” He choked on the words. “...Different. How come she didn't attack you?”

  A smirk tugged at his mouth. “Well, for one thing, I didn't charge at her headlong.” Commander shrugged mysteriously. “I'm very persuasive when I want to be. And I offered her something she very much needs.”

  “What's that?”

  A level look over the tops of his dark glasses, hazel eyes serious. “My assistance.” Vertigo stared at him, still in shock. Commander rose and approached him, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Vertigo. Nothing has changed. You're still you. I was planning to tell you-”

  “When?” Vertigo jerked away violently, the acid burn of betrayal eating at his gut. “When were you planning to tell me?”

  “When you were ready.” Commander gazed at him sternly. “Believe it or not, I do have your best interests at heart.”

  “Maybe you were going to tell me after some bitch like her came stalking me? Like she apparently was doing to that guy in the alley? Or Nathan and Bliss? Maybe after one of us gets killed for something we can't help and don't even know about?” Shock gave way to anger and his jaw tightened, shoulders tensed. Heat rippled along his skin like a warning and he held it back with an effort. “How long were you going to keep lying to us?”

  Commander's expression turned grave. “I've never lied to you, Vertigo. Everything I've told you is still true. I took you in to give you a better life. Your mother likely died giving birth to you; human women don’t usually survive the birth. Your father...” His lips tightened. “Your father was likely a demon who slept with your mother and didn't realize he'd gotten her pregnant. I sensed your potential and I thought you deserved a chance to grow up somewhere you wouldn't be feared for your power.”

  “You only wanted me because I'm... half demon.” The words came out bitter. “You knew I'd have powers and you wanted me as one of your toy soldiers. You wanted someone you could have in your pocket from the beginning. If I hadn't been of any use to you, you'd have just left me there.”

  “Vert...” Commander's voice softened, a plea in it that Vertigo had never heard before.

  “No. I'm done. I've heard enough.” He stood, shaking with anger, the flames beneath his skin only just barely under control. “Thanks, boss. Thanks a lot.” Commander tried to say something – call him back, calm him down, it didn't really matter. Vertigo stormed out of the tent, wishing he'd never gone looking for answers.