Her hand hovered over the remains.

What if it wasn’t enough?

A bird wasn’t a girl. If she tried, and failed, she’d never get another chance.

If she tried, and failed—but what else could she do? The rest of Serena was ash, scattered across a city hundreds of miles away.

Would it make a difference?

Sydney had never wondered if the where mattered as much as the what, but now, as she nestled the lid back on the tin, she thought, Ghosts are tied to the place where they died. She didn’t believe in ghosts, but she had to believe in something—that thread of light, the closest thing she could find to a soul. If there was any of Serena left, beyond the bones in this box, it would be there.

Sydney would just have to wait.

XV

TWO WEEKS AGO

CAPSTONE

STELL’S plane had landed at dawn. He didn’t know why a video conference wouldn’t suffice, but the board had insisted on his presence, and short of outright defiance, Stell had had no choice but to go.

In his absence, he’d left Rios with strict instructions. No procedures were to be put into effect in his absence. No commands given or followed unless they came expressly from him.

The last thing Stell needed was a mutiny.

Now he stared across the nondescript conference table at five nondescript faces atop nondescript suits. Stell suspected that by the time he left the room, he wouldn’t be able to pick any of them out of a lineup, let alone a crowd.

“First a failed EO capture,” said the woman in black, “now a failed extermination.”

“You’ve made quite a mess,” added the man in gray.

“We’ve faced difficult EOs before,” said Stell. “It’s only a matter of time—”

“Only a matter of time,” cut in the man in black, “before EON and its interests are both dragged into the spotlight.”

“My team is doing everything we can,” said Stell.

“That isn’t strictly true,” said the man in black. “We called you here because we believe your personal bias has prevented you from utilizing every asset at your disposal.”

“Bias?” challenged Stell.

“We don’t deny,” added the woman in navy, “that you’ve been integral to the development of this organization—”

“Development? I created EON. I brought you the first intel, I explained the threat level—hell, I had to convince several of you of the very legitimacy of EOs.”

The man in charcoal cleared his throat. “We are not questioning your contribution.”

The man in gray leaned forward. “We know you have a strong personal attachment to the early ideals of this organization.”

“Which is why,” said in the woman in black, “you’re not objectively qualified to judge its current needs.”

“My subjectivity is an asset,” said Stell. “You seem to think we’re dealing with manufactured weaponry here. Only I seem to realize we’re dealing with people.”

“A case could be made,” said the man in charcoal, “that they are both.”

Stell shook his head. It always came back to this—to money, and power, and the board’s desire for both. If the board had their way, they’d turn each and every captured EO into a weapon. Preferably single-use.

“Marcella Riggins makes a mockery of EON, and of you,” said the woman in navy. “You claim you are doing everything you can, using every tool at your disposal, and yet you keep settling for low-range munitions when you have one perfectly suited to the task.”

He understood then, with painful clarity.

Eli.

“At least low-range munitions have safety catches. Eli Cardale does not. I won’t authorize him for use in the field.”

The man in charcoal sat forward. “You yourself have advocated for this kind of utility.”

“This is different,” said Stell. “Eli isn’t an ex-soldier. He’s a mass murderer.”

“One who has been cooperative for more than four years.”

Stell shook his head. “You don’t know him like I do.”

“And so we return to the issue of objectivity,” said the woman in navy.

“Insight isn’t the same as bias,” snapped Stell. “You think we have a mess on our hands right now. It’s nothing compared to what would happen if we set him free.”

“Who said anything about free?” asked the man in black. “There are countermeasures. According to our records, tracking devices were installed—”

“It’s not just a matter of losing Eli,” said Stell. “It’s what he’ll do before we find him again. He can’t be controlled.”

At this, the man in gray produced a briefcase. “With that in mind,” he said, sliding it down the table, “a sturdier solution.”

The clasps came open to reveal a smooth steel ring, nested on a bed of black. When Stell reached in, he discovered it was actually two rings, one pressed into the other. A seam ran along each circle, so that the fused collar could hinge open and closed.

“Haverty’s methods were admittedly problematic,” said the woman in black, “but in this case, they were also useful. His initial tests explored Cardale’s general ability to heal. His second series explored the extent of that healing—and its limitations.”

A small remote, flat as a credit card and half as wide, lay impressed in the fabric beneath the collar, a single button on the smooth dark surface.

“Haverty discovered a threshold. Anything smaller than, say, a pill, and Cardale’s body could absorb it. Anything larger, and his body would physically reject the intrusion. However, if he was unable to reject the object, his body could not heal.”

Stell thought of Eli, awake on the operating table, his chest pinned open as Haverty worked.

“We’ve had R and D on this project for months. Go ahead, try it.”

Stell pressed the concave button, and the collar’s inner ring collapsed, folding at the seam so that the band of metal transformed into a vicious spike.

“It’s designed,” explained the man in black, “to sever a human spinal column between the fourth and fifth vertebrae. In an ordinary person, such an injury would result in permanent paralysis. Due to Cardale’s condition, the effects would obviously be temporary, but they should be just as effective.”

“This is, of course, only an suggestion.” The woman in navy shot him a thin smile.

“You are still EON’s director, after all.”

Stell returned the collar to the case, the board’s logic warring with the lead weight in his stomach.

“But we would strongly advise you to handle this EO, and handle her swiftly. Using any and every means necessary.”

BACK IN MERIT

STELL’S house key always stuck in the lock.

He knew he should get it fixed, but he didn’t spend much time at home. Slept in his own bed one night in three. Ate most of his meals in EON’s canteen. He wasn’t sure what made him drive from the airport into the city instead of back toward EON, didn’t even realize what he was doing until he was halfway there. But his head was still cluttered from the meeting with the board, and the two whiskeys on the plane had done nothing to clear it, and Stell realized he didn’t want to step through those doors until he knew exactly what he planned to do.

About Marcella.

About Eli.

Stell shrugged out of his coat. Lit a cigarette, even before he set the steel briefcase on the kitchen table. Slid the clasps.

The smooth metal collar sat nested in its velvet groove.

You are not using your assets.

Was the board right?

Send me.

Stell lowered himself into a chair.

You will never see the outside of this cell.

Was he letting his past color his judgment?

Or was he just listening to his gut?

He rubbed his eyes. Took a long drag of the cigarette, filling his lungs with smoke. The collar glinted in its case, EON’s solution—but not Stell’s. Not yet.

His cell rang. Stell answered without looking at the screen.

“Hello?”

He’d expected Rios, or a member of the board, but the voice on the line was smooth, sultry.

“Joseph,” it said with all the warmth of an old friend.

He frowned, stubbing out the cigarette. “Who is this?”

“You really have to ask?”

“Do I know you?”

“I should hope so. After all, your men have spent a great deal of time shooting at me.”

Stell’s fingers tightened imperceptibly on the phone.

Marcella Riggins.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you had something against me.”

“How did you get this number?”

He could hear the smile in her voice. “I’m getting tired of killing your agents. Are you getting tired of burying them?” She didn’t wait for him to answer. “Perhaps,” she continued, “we could find a more sophisticated solution . . .”

“Most EOs only get one chance,” said Stell. “I’m giving you two. Surrender now, and—”

A soft laugh. “Now, Joseph,” she chided. “Why would I do a thing like that?”

“So you just called to gloat.”