I’d never fully divulged my abilities to Gillian, partly because I couldn’t shake the fear that it would scare her away and partly because I hadn’t understood them well enough to explain what I could do. But she’d known me better than anyone and she’d accepted it all, weird quirks and possible supernatural abilities included.

She sipped her tea. “But no matter what happens, you won’t lose your compassion, will you?”

“No,” I promised solemnly, “I won’t.”

“That makes me so happy to hear. You will always be such a beautiful boy.” She perked up at the thought. “Oh, a beautiful man someday too!”

She laughed delightedly, and all I could think was that she hadn’t lived to see me grow into a man.

I wanted her to keep talking. Hearing her voice, that light, youthful cadence sprinkled with the odd crack that betrayed her age, was inexplicably warming even as it drove spikes of anguish into my chest.

Seeing her hurt. Dreaming this memory hurt so much because I knew she was gone. Three weeks after this conversation, I said my last goodbye to her.

In her final moments, when her lungs were failing and she struggled for every gasp, I sat beside her bed, gripped her hands, and gave her a hallucination to comfort her.

A sun-bathed beach in Hawaii. Aquamarine water rushing across white sand with that soft sound that only waves meeting a gentle shore could make. I made the sun hot, the sand cool, and the sky the clearest crystal blue I could imagine. A handsome cabana boy stood nearby with a palm frond, offering us shade and providing a view that Gillian unabashedly admired.

She’d always wanted to go to Hawaii but could never afford it because she’d spent all her time and money taking care of dumb runaways like me. So, I took her there.

It was the only time in my life I’d created a hallucination like that. Immersive and complete. I’ve tried to replicate it since but have always failed.

We sat there together, basking in the hallucination and enjoying the weather and the beauty, until her mind faded … and no matter how far I stretched my psychic senses, I couldn’t find her again.

I came to with a violent start.

Bittersweet grief and guilt churned in my gut, left over from the dream—but those emotions were cut short by the realization that I was falling.

A fraction of a second later, I hit the ground, landing on my shoulder and hip. I groaned from the impact, but my mouth was so dry that only a scratchy whisper came out. The familiar interior of Vera’s boat greeted my eyes, the bed beside me with blankets twisted across it.

Two important details struck me: first, the boat was bouncing up and down and side to side, which meant we were no longer tied up at the dock in Deep Cove; and second, I was wearing nothing but my underwear.

Thankfully, my clothes were hanging off a nearby chair. The same clothes I’d been wearing for several intense days. I needed a washing machine.

I picked up my shirt and gave it a cautious sniff. A faint hint of citrus surprised me. I got dressed, chugged a bottle of water I’d found in the mini-fridge, and made my way up to the deck. The sun was low in the sky, but between the misty weather and landmark-free open water surrounding us, I had no idea if it was just past dawn or almost dusk.

Vera was in the captain’s chair, hand on the wheel as she watched me take a few uneasy steps toward her on the rocking deck. “Hey there. How’re you feeling?”

“Groggy. How long was I out?”

“About five hours. It’s just after six p.m.” She eyed me with concern. “I tried to wake you up a few times, but you weren’t having it. Do you normally sleep like that after using your abilities?”

No, but I’d never pushed myself that far before. I’d only just learned how to make another person invisible, and I’d never needed to hold a halluci-bomb for so long either. Also, my life didn’t usually depend on my projections.

Thanks to those special circumstances, I’d found out my limits weren’t where I’d thought they were—and I’d also discovered that shooting past my psychic ceiling came with consequences. Such as sleeping like the living dead and experiencing painfully vivid memory-dreams.

Instead of admitting all that, I took a few more awkward steps and plunked myself in the seat next to Vera. “Did you wash my clothes?”

“They were getting ripe. I didn’t do your underwear, though. I don’t know you well enough for that.”

“That’s fair. You got all your artifacts?”

“Yep.”

That’s all she said, and I let the silence take hold. No point in bringing up how she’d tried to ditch me, then I’d tried to ditch her, then we’d somehow both escaped certain death despite the odds being stacked against us in the biggest way.

I looked out at the grayish-blue waves. We were speeding through choppy water, but the mist obscured everything more than fifty yards out. If I squinted, I could make out what might be the faint silhouette of land.

“Where are we going?” I asked after a minute.

“I’m delivering you to a cargo ship a few miles off Bowen Island. They’ll take you across the Pacific and connect you with my guy in the Philippines, who’ll set you up with a new identity.”

My gut flip-flopped unpleasantly. “The Philippines?”

“Yeah, but you don’t have to live there. My guy can advise you on your options. Australia is trickier, but you could make it happen.”

I nodded slowly. Australia didn’t sound so bad. I could totally learn an Aussie accent and blend in like a local in no time.

“Vera …” I hesitated. “Can I borrow your phone?”

“Why?”

“Need to Google something.”

She fished her cell from her pocket and handed it to me. I typed a quick search query, then waited an agonizing thirty seconds for the results to load.

Moonphases.org gave me the answer I was looking for: the next “waning third crescent moon,” the only night each month that Rigel’s uncrackable vault could be opened, would happen … tonight.

Tonight, Quentin would have Maggie open the secret vault she’d created for Rigel, in which was stored the terrifying artifact Blue Smoke had stolen from Cerberus five weeks ago. I’d thought Quentin had planned to complete the theft, but he didn’t need to. Blue Smoke had already done it.

All Quentin had to do was claim the prize for himself.

I looked up. Through the fog, the shadow of an enormous cargo ship took shape. The ship that would take me away from all of this insanity, out of the grip of the MPD, and thousands of miles from my old life.

This was it. Safety. No more jail cells, sentencing hearings, or possible dates with an executioner. I had successfully survived the collapse of KCQ, escaped the MPD, and negotiated transport with a smuggler. I’d swum naked through the ocean and stolen from an illegal artifact dealer to get here.

My freedom was on the horizon, but …

I couldn’t believe that sentence contained a “but.” Yet there it was. A big one.

My freedom was on the horizon, but it came at a price I hadn’t expected. No, not risking my life to steal Vera’s artifacts. These costs weren’t ones I had to pay.

Lienna Shen, who against her better judgment had shown me kindness, respect, and the beginnings of trust when they were entirely scarce in my life, would pay for my freedom with her career. I’d undermined her position as an agent, betrayed her faith in me, and left her at the mercy of her vengeful, authoritarian captain.