The bad news? Amy had zero chance of telling me everything I needed in the next few seconds.

  Considering the speed that Amnesia Angel came at me with, I doubted I’d have seconds. They rushed me, sword out and slashing.

  I twisted to avoid them, giving the rockets extra power and hoping the reaction time I’d saved by sending commands to the Rocket suit through my implant made a difference.

  It did, but not enough. I felt pain in my thigh, burning but not unbearable. A glance downward showed no physical damage, the follow-through of the angel’s blade missing my right leg.

  At almost the same time, I noticed that I was losing my sword and opened up to the outside energies I was tapping. The sword stabilized, but it felt a touch harder.

  It made sense. The sword damaged me as an Artificer—no physical damage. It was also bad news.

  99% of the time, that bit of heritage was irrelevant to my life, but I was currently living in the remaining 1%.

  Worse, the angel was gaining on me, its wings shimmering with energies that might only be visible to me.

  I sent the rockets to maximum power plus an anti-gravity boost, and that did give me some space, shooting me up above the row houses and stores surrounding the base.

  Amnesia Angel followed, sword in one hand, the whole body glowing like a human-shaped star. It couldn’t keep up, but I couldn’t run away. I had to be close enough that it had hope or he’d fly back to join the fight below.

  I circled sideways, changing my angle and heading toward the main fight, forcing Amnesia Angel to change directions to keep me in their sights.

  I intended to check out how everyone else’s fights were going, but something else drew my eye. I’d seen Magnus’ power descend toward the tower, but then I’d thought it might have aimed itself toward Jody, but now, with the luxury of a different angle and a few milliseconds to spare, I realized that two presences wreathed in Artificer power were climbing up the side of the tower at the speed most people would walk.

  The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

  Even stranger, I thought I might recognize them. Back when I’d worked at Higher Ground, I’d fought two people who’d been run through the Abominator birthing chambers and been modified into the Abominators’ (and now the Ascendancy’s) standard special forces soldier breed. They’d been modified into becoming supers in the style of Haley or Travis.

  Thanks to my implant, I got instant confirmation of their names—Art and Zola, formerly of Higher Ground’s marketing department. Haley had always been terrified of losing her humanity to the beast within. What I remembered of them was that Art had been loving it and that Zola had been fighting the beast, but losing.

  I didn’t have time to wonder where they were now with bloodlust and all because they were heading up toward where Haley, Daniel, and the rest were.

  Over the comms, so that Dayton and Sean would have a chance to hear it, I said, “Evil marketing people crawling up the tower.”

  At almost the same time, Haley said, “Got it,” and Sean said, “What?”

  I will admit that I could have been clearer, but I didn’t have time to explain. Like me, Amnesia Angel had changed direction, except that, following me, they could turn earlier than I could, and they had, aiming to intercept.

  Despite the damage to my psyche, I hadn’t lost the flow of energy that kept the blade functioning, which was good. Amnesia Angel’s wings burst into multi-colored energy, and they streaked forward, twisting around and stopping directly in front of me.

  How I blocked the angel’s blade, I couldn’t be certain, but Lee had insisted I’d learn swordplay, and I’d kept it up, practicing with him, Cassie, and Tara. In short, my defenses were second nature. Even if Amnesia Angel’s reflexes were faster, something about the angle they held the sword and countless small movements told me that I’d spent more time training.

  Despite that, they kept up a flurry of attacks, one following the other quickly enough that all I could do was block. I succeeded, not taking a single blow, but that wasn’t the way to win.

  If you only defend, you’re going to lose.

  The addition of voices over the comm didn’t help either. I ignored them, but couldn’t help but notice the increasing emotional edge to the conversation, punctuated with flashes of lightning near the tower.

  The angel and I kept on flying and circling each other, slashing and stabbing at each other, never passing through the other’s guard. Each of us needed to change the fight. Neither was willing to risk it, but with every blow, I could feel the effort it took to keep the sword together increase.

  I was the one who needed to end it most. I had to do it now.