“We need to get moving,” Revenant said. “While I am confident we are not facing any imminent response, the presence of an interloper suggests we may be compromised.”

  Alpha climbed to his feet. Sabra watched him rise with a creeping sense of shame. The thrill of battle hadn’t faded away so much as it had utterly evaporated. The only thing that remained was a sense of awkwardness.

  “There was a second,” Alpha said. His arm hung limp, but there wasn’t a trace of blood.

  “Mm,” Revenant replied. A subtle noise that Sabra only understood as meaning ‘message received.’ “Either way, we’re moving out. Fall in.”

  And they did. Revenant turned and headed off, and the pair of men in black power armor followed behind. Sabra remained, awkwardly, wondering why Revenant hadn’t even asked if she was okay, when she spoke up: “Coming, Defiant?”

  She almost didn’t. But she hopped into a quick jog and fell into step behind the two men. Beta turned and looked at her over his shoulder.

  “So, what, the two of you?” He pointed vaguely between her and Revenant. “She said girlfriend? Just how does that work?”

  Sometimes, Sabra wasn’t sure.

  She didn’t know what to say to that question, so she didn’t say anything. Revenant led them away from the mansion and toward a black truck that reminded Sabra of nothing less than the armored vehicles she’d always associated with the Asclepion Police Department.

  Sabra and the two men—what were they, associates, subordinates?—climbed into the back of the truck, while Revenant took the driver’s seat. Sabra wondered how she’d manipulate the pedals with those feet of hers, but Revenant just jacked a cable into her headpiece and that was that.

  Across from Sabra, Alpha and Beta removed their helmets. Then, after a second, so did she. Alpha was an older man with aggressive features—or maybe that was just from the fact she’d kicked his ass—with hair the color of steel. Beta was younger with, of all things, a light brown fauxhawk.

  “Sup,” he said, grinning. “Nice braids.”

  “Thanks,” Sabra said, then nodded to Alpha, still not sure what to say.

  His expression didn’t change, bloody and shrapnel-pocked. “So, you’re Sabra.”

  “The one and only. And you are?”

  “Alexander,” he replied. “And that’s Lykos.”

  Old Greek names like that had swept through the world during the Golden Age. But by the time Sabra had been born, it’d returned to being unfashionable. Sabra just nodded to them both, and had no idea what to say. Apologies, her father liked to say, were never a bad place to start.

  “Sorry about your arm.”

  Alexander waved it off. “It’s prosthetic. I’ll live.”

  “And your, uh, face.”

  “I’ll be fine.”

  “Oh. Cool.” Sabra let that thought settle like a feather from above. It was reassuring, in a way. Ever since her showdown with Taurine, there’d been a shadow in the back of her mind: that her prescient violence, her onslaught step, was meted out by hands that weren’t truly her own. But she’d threaded the needle this time, disabled him with a minimum of bloodshed. All she had to do was keep doing that.

  The truck hummed along, and her mind turned to Revenant. She didn’t know what to say to her, if anything. She had known Revenant didn’t tell her everything—not because she kept secrets, but because she thought her reality was too depressing to bother Sabra with. A locked door, but a promise of warmth, if only she knocked a little harder.

  All she had to do, Sabra thought, was keep doing that, too.

  But who were these two? Subordinates, probably, but maybe not. They weren’t wearing IESA uniforms, and from what Sabra understood, Revenant’s responsibilities under Taskforce MARBLE began and ended with terminating rogue forms of synthetic life. Not going after people like Pick, Choose, and Kortanaer.

  She had to be investigating the bombing, too. But why?

  Sabra didn’t find an answer. Revenant drove them north-west and then north-east, around the other side of Mont Tendre. Moonlight illuminated spruce forests and rolling fields and cows—actual cattle! She’d never seen actual cattle before. Asclepion hadn’t had livestock. It hadn’t had much fauna beyond pigeons and rats.

  Soon, Sabra heard the truck shift from asphalt to crushed rock, and then there was a brief tilt and the moonlit Swiss countryside gave way to an underground garage—all concrete and metal, starkly lit. Revenant cut the engine, disconnected herself, and climbed out. The locks disengaged and out went Alexander and Lykos.

  Sabra followed them.

  It felt less like a garage and more like the deck of a spaceship. Like what she’d seen of the inside of Asclepion’s Citadel. No one came out to meet them; Sabra wondered where Revenant had taken her. But she couldn’t bring herself to say anything, not yet.

  “Hugin, Munin, you’re dismissed,” Revenant said, hands clasped behind her. “We’ll debrief in twenty minutes. Defiant, the armory is to your left. Remove your armor and return here.”

  “Sure,” Sabra said, and went off.

  The armory had the same stark minimalism as the rest of the garage. Fully half of the space was dominated by an armor gantry, a circular frame with a multitude of arms—some that ended in mechanical hands, others in tools. It looked like it could strip her out of anything—armor, skin, whatever—in seconds. It looked like she had no idea how to use it.

  “Feeling a bit lost?” Lykos asked.

  “A bit,” Sabra replied.

  Lykos nodded and set his helmet down on a workbench. “You look like you’ve never seen one of those before.”

  “I haven’t. I usually just pop the emergency locks and climb out.”

  “No kidding. It’s a wonder your suit still runs as smoothly as it does, then. These models are supposed to be stripped down after every sortie.” He reached out to take her helmet, and then set it with his.

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  “Just put you feet in the indicated spots, hold still, and it’ll take care of everything.”

  Sabra nodded and stepped into the gantry. She set her feet in the indicated spots, held still, and let the mechanical limbs descend upon her like an array of mantises, removing her armor from top to bottom, piece by piece. Noise enveloped her, but it was much quieter than she had suspected.

  “So, you and her,” Lykos began.

  “Me and her.”

  “Really?”

  “Really-really.”

  Lykos raised his eyebrows. “Well, hasn’t this been a night of surprises,” he said, as the limbs drew away from Sabra, and she stepped out of the sabatons of her powered suit. She didn’t like his tone, but let the irritation fall behind her with the rest of the armory.

  Revenant’s glowing gaze tracked her as she returned. As Sabra closed, Revenant turned and strode off, leaving Sabra to fall in behind her. When Revenant was irritated by something, and Sabra was pretty sure she was, it was always better to let her bring it up. Knocking on that door always ended with her locking it.

  The double doors slid open and Revenant led the way up a staircase and Sabra had a moment’s shock when she stepped onto polished floorboards and not plating. A hallway, with lights brightening to a gentle glow. The air smelled faintly of incense.

  “What is this place?” Sabra asked.

  Revenant didn’t reply. Sabra frowned.

  “Rev?”

  “Apologies, Sabra, I’m still determining the most accurate response.” Another brief pause, and she cocked her head as she walked. “I suppose I would call this chalet my father’s sanctuary.”

  “Your father owns this place?”

  “Yes.”

  Was it odd that the fact that it felt like Revenant was made of money got to her more than that she was made of metal? Revenant’s family didn’t just have money but wealth. Enough that she would give Sabra however much she needed, if only she asked. Enough to own a chalet in the Swiss countryside as a home away from home, and if there was one thing Geneva and Asclepion shared it was that detached houses were expensive.

  They crossed a living area which was filled with couches and a bar and bookshelves lined with books—actual books—and a centerpiece of flat rough stone that, even with the prism of a fireplace atop it, brought to mind the altar of Abraham and Isaac more than anything else.

  Up another flight of stairs, and Sabra paused at the landing. A hallway led to her right, but to her left there was an open room that struck Sabra as a gallery—or a shrine. She paused at the threshold, gaze caught on the solitary piece in the middle of the room: a gleaming set of armor of platinum and gold set upon a crystal sculpture, a woman atop a marble plinth. Curious, Sabra stepped over to it. The armor was scarred and scratched. The helmet was one of those Golden Age designs, a modern take on an ancient style, with a starburst set atop the brow. The plinth was engraved with something Latin.

  Revenant stepped up beside her. “Come along, Sabra.”

  “What’s this?” It wasn’t for her, surely. “Who is this?”

  “That would be my mother’s armor.”

  Of everything she had heard tonight, those words were the most shocking.

  “Your mother?” Sabra asked, eyes wide. Revenant had never talked about her mother, had never even mentioned her. With armor like that, she had to have been a superhero...

  “That’s right.”

  “You’ve never talked about her.”

  “And I never will,” Revenant replied. “This way, Sabra.”

  There were so many questions there on the tip of her tongue, and the deepness of the abyss glimmered in her shadow—there was a conversation there, in the future, and Sabra wrenched her awareness away from it. It felt wrong, invasive. And it didn’t matter what she said, because if Revenant didn’t want to answer it, then she wouldn’t.

  They stepped into a bedroom. Revenant waited by the door and shut it behind Sabra. The room was as opulent as the rest of the chalet, and just as untouched. Sabra’s finger left a line in the dust atop the desk.

  “I’m a little bit absolutely livid right now, Sabra,” Revenant said.

  Sabra turned to face her. She didn’t sound like it, didn’t look it. “What? Why?”

  “You’ve disrupted an investigation of vital importance. What were you doing there?”

  What a question, and what an answer: I was there to abduct the now-dead man as a favor to an old supervillain who has been hooking me up with high-grade stimulants to ensure I sleep as little as possible in order to minimize the nightmares that I can’t tell you about because I think you might kill me. But she didn’t say it. She couldn’t say it. It felt like every dozen words of that thought would have Revenant blowing a different fuse.

  “I’ve been looking into the bombing, Rev,” Sabra said.

  “Have you.”

  “Yeah. I just couldn’t get it out of my head. I kept thinking, like, what if it was my dad or my mom. It’s not like I have anything else to do with my time. If it was so important, you could’ve told me. I could’ve helped.”

  “Ulysses Kortanaer is dead,” Revenant said. “He was the only lead I had.”

  “Then we need to find Jack Harper. He was there. He shot him. Christ and Allah, like, what are the fucking chances?”

  “That is a good question,” Revenant replied. “I would like to know the answer. Unfortunately, you attacked him, and then prevented my subordinates from apprehending him.”

  Sabra frowned. “They didn’t exactly tell me they were working for you. You’ve never even told me you have subordinates. And, what, you didn’t clarify any of it? My armor is still stolen property? You didn’t put my name on it?”

  “Having your identity linked to a missing set of high-performance powered combat armor would be counterproductive.”

  “So would be getting arrested.”

  “Had Alexander arrested you, I would have resolved the situation.”

  “How could I have known that at the time?” Sabra asked, at about the same time she knew she could’ve taken a few moments to think and look. She ran a hand through her braids, sighing.

  “You threw the first punch, Sabra,” Revenant said.

  “Yeah.”

  “You impaled an associate of mine with a metal stake.”

  “Through a cybernetic arm!”

  “I’ll assume you knew that.” Revenant pinched at her nose. “Christ and Allah, Sabra.”

  “Look, I’m sorry, okay,” Sabra said. “But I thought all of your secret missions were for the IESA.”

  “They are,” Revenant replied, relaxing to her usual frost. “This mission is unofficial. It came directly from my father.”

  “And you didn’t tell me?”

  “He asked me not to discuss it with anyone. And before you ask—both Alexander and Lykos are associates of my father more than they are of me.”

  “And he’s interested in the bombing?”

  “Yes,” Revenant replied. “Because he was there.”

  “Oh, Rev,” Sabra stepped over to Revenant and brought her into her arms. She tilted forward, but remained rigid. “Was he- Is he okay?”

  “He is. But he almost wasn’t. I have all the data. I keep processing it, over and over. His train was due to arrive at 7:25AM. The suicide bomber, one Andreas Adams, had been waiting on that platform. If not for the train being diverted to another platform, if not for Jack Harper’s intervention...”

  Sabra ran her fingers along Revenant’s scalp, through her hair, and along the cybernetic band that ran around the back of her head. The lights and displays there ran through steady patterns. “But he’s alive, babe,” she murmured. “He’s okay. It’s just in your head.”

  “But he almost wasn’t, Sabra,” she replied. “He almost wasn’t, and I wasn’t here. I was so worried about you that it didn’t even occur to me he might’ve been hurt. And I can’t stop thinking about it.” Her hand gripped Sabra’s waist, hard enough to bunch up her softsuit, hard enough to hurt.

  She professed inhumanity, but there was something deep in her, some aspect of her mind, that Sabra knew it was little more than a front. A defense mechanism. Behind that front was a simply atmospheric amount of turmoil. Sabra didn’t know what to say, because she knew Revenant didn’t want her to notice.

  So, she settled for distraction. “Wait, you said Jack was there?”

  “He was. Apparently, Jack Harper and Samantha Holley were to be my father's security detail. Harper attempted to deescalate the situation and survived only through what I can determine as sheer luck.”

  “And then he was there tonight...”

  “A psychological assessment of Jack Harper indicates that he would, like you, involve himself in the situation. The fact he shot and killed Ulysses Kortanaer leads me to believe that Kortanaer was involved, if not responsible.”

  Revenant’s grip relented. Sabra was pretty sure she’d left a bruise.

  “But Kortanaer was also my only lead. And it’s taking me everything in my power not to scream.”

  In her shoes, Sabra might’ve done the same.

  “Rev, do you think your father was the target?”

  Revenant was silent for a moment. And Sabra knew that a second for her didn’t have quite the same value.

  “I don’t know,” she said. “There were seven hundred and twenty-six people on that train. It’s possible that any of them could have been the target, or none of them. My father, for what it is worth, does not think he was the target. But I think he said that only so I don’t worry.”

  “About?”

  “About whether it’s true,” Revenant said. “Or who might be responsible.”