Fury eked through the wonder.

“We could take them out tonight, ourselves,” he whispered to Mallick. “They’re idiots.”

Mallick nodded. “No doubt, but it’s not for us, not tonight.”

“I get it, but, man, it’s hard to walk away. I’m going to get a closer look, back of the building where they’ve got the magickals.”

“Be quick, and quiet.”

He could flash, but that wouldn’t give him as many lay-of-the-land details. So he moved swiftly over the hard-baked ground, keeping out of the range of the battery-run security lights.

As he got closer, he realized the building had been—and was—an actual jail, with barred windows, no rear door.

He peeked in, saw a trio of small cells, a locked interior door separating it from the rest of the building.

Twenty-six by his count, including kids, all sprawled out in a stupor. He saw fresh brands on foreheads, fresh bruises, old bruises, dried blood. Bare feet—torn up from being forced to walk Christ knew how far. Hair shorn so close and rough that scalps showed raw gashes.

He spotted two dirty jars on the floor outside one cell, and the weak lights inside it.

He heard the locks on the interior door slide, ducked down from the window.

“Told you they were all out.”

“We got orders to check every four hours, we check every four hours. Now get over and do the same on the slave quarters. And keep your dick in your pants this time.”

“What’s the point having slaves if we can’t have some fun with them?”

“Command put me in charge, and slaves are for work, not recreation. You want to fuck something, you fuck one of the bitches in here before we hang them. Now go do the goddamn check on the slave quarters.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

Duncan heard one leave, the other move deeper into the room. “Dream of hell,” the man muttered. “Because you’re going back there soon. We’re going to send every one of you sons and daughters of demons back to hell. We’re going to take back our world.”

He stood there in silence a full minute. “We’re going to start building the scaffold tomorrow—right out there.”

He walked to the window where Duncan crouched below, looked out. “Right out where you can see it every damn day and know what’s coming for you. We’re going to wipe the abomination of you off the face of the earth, one noose at a time.”

He went out, locked the door.

When they finished the mission, flashed back to the cabin, Duncan pulled a beer out of the cold box, poured wine for Mallick.

“I’ll draw it up. If they don’t get reinforcements before we go, we can take them with fifty troops, max.”

“I agree. We close off their access to their weapons. They’re poorly organized as yet, and not yet fortified.”

“They think they’re off the radar—that’s the term, right? They don’t figure we know about them, think they have plenty of time to set up. They’re taking a break, more or less, after the trip out there.”

He took a long drink. “Twenty-six prisoners, drugged, most injured. I couldn’t tell how seriously. At least one of the PWs in charge is a true believer.”

Calm as a lake, Mallick sipped wine. “You’re angry, and anger clouds judgment.”

“They had pixies in fucking jars on the floor. One of the kids in the cells couldn’t have been more than three or four years old. Damn right I’m angry. You and I could’ve ended it tonight.”

He threw up a hand before Mallick could respond. “I get why we didn’t. Get why we couldn’t. It’s a freaking brilliant plan, and it could net us Arlington. That doesn’t mean it wasn’t hard to walk away from what we saw there.”

His thoughts as rough as the scruff on his face, Duncan dropped down in a chair. “They’re going to start building the scaffold tomorrow. They might use it before we hit.”

“Think strategically,” Mallick advised.

“I will. There’s no law saying I can’t bitch about it first. I know we can’t save everybody. I learned that early on.”

But it ate at him, always.

Mallick sat, sipped his wine. “Let me know when you’ve finished bitching so we can begin the work needed to save who we can.”

Duncan studied the sorcerer, the white-streaked beard, the dark eyes, the unflappable dignity. “You’re a hard-ass, Mallick. I’ve got to admire that. They’ve got fifty-two troops by my count.”

“Your count’s incorrect. They have fifty-four.”

Duncan might have argued, but he knew Mallick missed nothing. Ever. “Okay, fifty-four. Most of them carry sidearms or long guns. Every one I saw had a knife. I didn’t see any swords.”

“They have three stored in the building they use to house weapons.”

Duncan’s eyes narrowed. “How do you know that?”

“I looked. While you checked the prisoners, I went inside. I have count of their stored weapons.”

“You said no going inside the buildings.”

“I said you weren’t to go inside,” Mallick corrected—unflappably. “I had an opportunity, and took it. And we now know they have three swords, ten more of the long guns, twelve more of the handguns, and ammunition. Not enough ammunition for all the weapons.”

Duncan pushed resentment aside for later. “They’re low on ammo. Good to know.”

“It’s possible they have weapons and ammunition for them in other locations.”

“I would,” Duncan agreed. “I’d have at least one more weapon than the one I carry where I sleep, so there’s that. I might keep one or two in some of the vehicles. But the point is, they’re not particularly well armed and, like you said, not all that well organized as yet.”

“And how would you take the base?”

“Depends. We’re coordinating with the other two attacks. She’ll hit Arlington after dark, but it could still be light in Utah. That matters.”

“She’ll have factored that into her timing. Assume we strike at night.”

Yeah, she’d factor it, Duncan had to agree. Fallon was another who rarely missed a thing. “Okay. We take out the crap sentry—or sentries if they post more. Quick, quiet, so archers or elves with blades. Move in from the west and east, cover the prison, slave quarters, and armory first. Secure the prisoners—get them out. Secure the weapons and vehicles. Neutralize any enemy forces necessary to achieve that.”

“Do you wish the enemy dead, or the prisoners freed?”

“Trick question?”

At Mallick’s arched brows, his silence, Duncan huffed out a breath. “Okay, all right. They’ve got no DUs, not unless they have any passing as civilians. So we can overwhelm them with power, neutralize them that way, and cut down on body count. Take out the sentry or sentries with a power punch. Give them a zap, secure them, move in. Fallon wants us to give them time to send out an SOS, and that’s part of the smart here. We let them do that, then take down the comms.”

He took another swig of beer. “But I’m not risking anyone to spare that enemy body count. If it comes to it, we take them out.”

“Then we’re agreed. Make your map. We’ll plot out the strategy, select our troops. We’ll take the map and the plan to Fallon in the morning.”

Now Duncan studied his beer. “She doesn’t need both of us. You take the meeting. I’ll stay here and work with the team we put together.”

“That might be wise.”

Mallick might have been too dignified to smirk, but Duncan heard it in the tone. “There’ll come a time, old man. It’s just not now. I’ll fight for her, fight with her. I’ll fight for the light with my last goddamn breath. But I’m damned if I’ll hook up with a woman because the gods freaking deem it. I choose who and when and where.”

“It’s all a choice, boy.”

“Is it?” Pushing up, he paced. “Who puts these dreams of her in my head, these feelings for her in me?”

“How is it you don’t know the answer?”

He gestured with the beer. “You’re saying I do it to myself. That’s bullshit. My mom says I got worked up and happy when Lana came around, before Fallon was born. And the bitch of it is, I half remember.”

“Recognition. Light to light, blood to blood. The rest, if the rest is to be, is for you, for her.”

“Yeah? And what if I decide, hey, you know, I’m more into that blonde or that redhead than The One? Do we lose that connection? Because the connection matters, it’s a key to ending this. I know it. She knows it. And I’m pretty damn sure it pisses her off as much as it does me.”

“Then she’d be as foolish and shortsighted as you.”

So much to learn yet, Mallick thought. Still so much.

“Your connection is your blood, your light, your ancestry, and it isn’t sex that joins you together. Or do you perceive Tonia and Fallon must be fated to join in that way as well? Or the three of you—”

“Whoa.” Sincerely appalled, Duncan shoved out a hand like a stop sign. Snaps of light shimmered from the fingertips. “That’s my sister.”

“Your twin. As close to you as any could be. Her light connects with yours, as does her blood. Nothing can sever that. Your light, Fallon’s. Her blood, yours. It’s a bond unbroken. You’ll bed who you choose, as will she.”

Duncan sat again. “It’s not ordained? Because thinking maybe it is bugs the shit out of me.”

“The gods don’t bind you, Duncan.”

“Aren’t you bound?”

“I took an oath. I chose to take it. So the binding is my own. I’ll never break it.”

Duncan contemplated his beer before polishing it off. If he knew one thing, absolutely, about Mallick, it was the man never lied. “Okay then. So when I go back for her, and I will, it’s because it’s what I want.”