Lanningham, who'd been watching our backs the whole time, walked over. "I can see why Lieutenant Johnson complains that the two of you are going to give him heart failure. What was that flying through the air thing?"

"Just something we worked out at Will's house last summer." I grinned, tired and a little punchy from the knife-spirit's adrenaline push. "We practiced on the trampoline to see how much hang-time I could get."

Lanningham shook his head. "When they told me I'd be your watchdog, I thought, how hard can it be, keeping track of two teenagers?" He stood up taller, maybe to remind me he had an inch of height and about twenty pounds on me. "Now, I know better. I'm sticking to you close for the rest of this mission."

"Sir, yes, sir," I said.

Uncle Mike finished doing a headcount on the villagers, then came over to join us. Grease and soot had left a black swipe across his forehead, but he wasn't bleeding anywhere. "Two things."

"Yeah?" I said.

"First, we're going to have a chat about the makeshift flamethrower tomorrow, have no doubt about that."

His glare could have frozen plasma; Will and I exchanged glances before nodding. "Sir, yes sir."

"Seconda" Uncle Mike's expression went from Major-Tannen-Pissed to confused. "We had probably fifty Cats coming at us from all directions, and we put all of them down in, what, twenty-five minutes? How's that even possible?"

"There were fifty-two monsters, sir," Dorland called. "I kept count through my scope."

I grunted out a laugh. Of course he didaDorland was too good to miss anything. "That's a multiple of thirteen, so it sounds about right."

"Fifty-two." Uncle Mike said. "Does anyone else think this fight was too easy?"

"Well," I said, glancing into the darkness. Even with my blue night vision, nothing stirred outside the circle of huts. "There's an injured Cat out there somewhere, but come to think of itayeah."

"Your eyes are still glowing in the dark, and we're still under totality, but the monsters are gone. And it's not just that," Uncle Mike said. He waved Ramirez and Brandt over. "The Cats did some damage, but no casualties. Injuries are minor, too."

And I wasn't in paina"no post-fight hangover. Tink had me firmly under her control, which could only mean one thing. "We're not done."

"I don't think so, either," Ramirez said. "I'm stillabuzzing."

Brandt joined our little powwow. He had a cut running down his knife arm and he looked dead tired. "I got nothing."

Will, who'd been standing by listening to the conversation, doubled over suddenly and wrapped his arms around his middle. Brandt put out a hand to steady him, but Will staggered away, saying, "I'm fine, I'm fine."

"Dude," I said, approaching him slowly, "what's going on with you?"

"Just a cramp. It's nothing." He kept his back to me and took a few heaving breaths before standing upright.

I didn't believe that for a second. From the way his shoulders bunched up, forcing himself to unbend hadn't been easy. First that strange bout of the flu, and now this? No matter what Will said, I thought he needed a medic. "Ramirez, is Klimmett around?"

Ramirez ran a hand over his dark hair, watching Will with worried eyes. "He was checking on a few kids who got knocked around in the scuffle, but I'll get him."

"No," Will snapped. He turned around, glaring. "I'm fine now, okay? Let Klimmett take care of the kids."

Even in the firelight from the torches, I could tell how pasty his face was but he looked like a guy ready to throw down with anyone who asked too many questions, so I let it go. Maybe he'd eaten a bad MRE or something.

"Fine, okay," I said, checking my watch. "So, back to the attack. We're still under totality for another fourteen minutes. What do you thinka""

My question was cut short by a snarl, and the missing Cat appeared out of the shadows between the houses at the edge of the village. It was walking upright on its back legs, holding its damaged paw against its chest.

Brandt raised his knife and took a step toward the creature, but I held up a hand. "Wait!"

It wouldn't have come back and faced all of us alone if it didn't want something. The creature glanced around the group before fixing its gaze on me. It stared into my eyes intently; unwilling to back down, I stared right back, ready for whatever it threw at me.

Wielder, can you hear me? The voice speaking in my head was raspy, like an old man's.

Okay, I wasn't expecting that.

Tink pushed to the front of my brain and answered, Of course we can. What do you want?

The Cat stood taller and growled deep in its chest. I wish to speak to your proxy, not to you. I have a message from my master.

The knife-spirit stepped back. Speak with him, then.

Proxy? And why could I hear monsters in my head all of a sudden? "What's this about?"

"Matt?" Uncle Mike asked, frowning in concern.

I waved him off. "I'll take the message. I promise no harm will come to you."

That is not a promise you can keep, young one. The Cat's dark, slitted eyes bored into mine. I will die soon; the bronze is looking to strike even now. That is of no matter to me. I was created to a specific purpose; my life was destined to be short. My master's message is simple: leave this place. Do not return. He will stop the attacks if you go.

Tink, never one to stay out a conversation even when asked, said, Your master must not value your life very much, because he sent you on a fool's errand. My proxy cannot leave this place until the task is finished, as you well know.

The monster nodded, seeming almost weary. He thought that would be your answer, and I foresaw the risks, but I completed my task as ordered.

The Cat turned to leave, cradling its hurt paw. Before I could shout stop, before it could even go three steps, Brandt jumped on the creature's back and slit its throat with his knife. The bronze handle flashed green when the blade came in contact with the Cat's blood. Brandt slid off its back and the Cat clutched its throat as orange blood spilled through its fingers. It shot me a rueful look before slumping to the ground.

A chill seized me. Somehow it had known that not only would it die, but how. Brandt's knife was the only one with a bronze handle.

I whirled around on Brandt. "He might've had more to say!"

"It was trying to get away, Archer." Brandt invaded my personal space, standing so we were nose-to-nose. "Don't let your ability to hear them cloud your judgment. We could not let that thing roam free, understand?"

I opened my mouth to argue, then closed it. This time Brandt was right. Even the Cat knew it; the monster had known it was going to its death. All of them had, but they were under the thrall of something they couldn't deny.

Deep in the cellar of my mind, the dark voice began its chant again. That the voice was quieter, less insistent, didn't matter. The owner of the voice wanted us goneaor dead. And from the voice's tone, it didn't really care which as long as we weren't around to bother it anymore.

I took a step away from Brandt and said, "We should to clean up and get some rest. I don't think we'll see anything else tonight, but we ought to stay here just in case. Tomorrow we need to take another trip to those cliffs. I have a feeling we'll find something out there this time."

Then I walked back to the Humvee and, overcome by a sudden migraine, crawled into the back seat. I caught a glimpse of my eyes in the rearview mirror before I stretched out.

They were blue again.

As I drifted off into an uneasy sleep, a tiny sliver of yellow appeared in the night sky through the back windshield, and just like that, the blood-red moon was gone.

Chapter Twenty-Two.

"Dude, you gotta stop doing that," Will was saying.

"What?" I mumbled, struggling to wake up from a dark dream I couldn't quite remember. The sun was bright and hot on my face through the back windshield of the Humvee. I'd been out a long time, apparently. "Sleeping like the dead after a fight?"

"Yeah. You didn't used to do this," Will said. "You were tired after a hunt, sure, but not comatose."

I opened my eyes and sat up slowly, glad when it didn't make me sick. My head didn't hurt, exactly, but it did feel like my skull was full of Silly Stringa"everything was loose and puffy in there.

"It's getting worse."

Will leaned on the passenger window frame, frowning. "I've noticed."

It was the dark this time, the knife-spirit murmured. You had contact with them, like with the Takers last year. It hurts.

No kidding. "Can you do anything to shield me better?"

We needed the message. She sounded apologetic. I had to give him access.

"Him, huh? The Cats were guys?"

This breed seemed to be exclusively male. Bred to fight.

That made me laugh for some weird reason. I just had this thought of Mamie watching an old Star Trek: The Next Generation rerun and hearing the Klingon bellow, "Perhaps today is a good day to die!" It wasn't that funny if you really thought about it, true, but maybe laughing at irrelevant things was a good coping mechanism. On the other hand, those monsters were just a scare tactic, cannon fodder, nothing more. We'd be facing worse soon.

"Well, it was a waste of manpower if you ask me," I said. "Why would their master do that?"

A warning? Maybe to see if we had any weaknesses. I do not know; and I don't like not knowing. We'll have to pay him a visit today.

I rubbed the back of my neck. "I was afraid you'd say that."

"You know, I think I've been around this team too long," Will said. "I don't find it weird to watch you talk to yourself."

"That's because I'm not talking to myself, jackwagon," I said, but I felt a little better. "Everybody else up?"

Will yanked open the passenger door and gave me a hand getting out of the back seat. "Yep. They put me on *fetch loser-Matt' duty and started on breakfast without us, so get moving."

He took off at an easy jog, but I wasn't in the mood to do more than plod. Now that the sun had risen, I got a good look at the results of last night's brawla"scorched crops, demolished houses, broken potteryaand a bunch of relieved faces. The whole scene was straight out of a fairy tale: monsters had sacked the village, but the people were just happy to be alive.

Zenka came to join me as I inspected the damage. "We survived the night."

"Yeah," I said. "We still made a mess, though."

"You sound hesitant." She cocked her head. "Is something the matter?"

I grunted. She probably already knew but, just like Jorge, I think she wanted to hear me say it. I closed my eyes a minute. The dark voice hissed at me and the knife-spirit hissed back. They were using my head as a conference bridge, and I didn't appreciate it.

"The Cats' leader has been calling to me ever since the eclipse started. Last night was just the first wave, a warning."

When I opened my eyes again, Zenka was frowning. "I thought as much. I didn't want to tell the others; they've dealt with enough terror. Will you be able to find it and destroy it?"

"Find it? Probably." I squinted at the sun as it rose above the eastern horizon. I'd never been quite as glad to see its piecing white light and the safety it brought. "Destroy it? Not sure, but I'll try."

"That's all we can ask." Zenka patted my arm and went to greet a few families who had gathered to speak with her. I turned the other way, toward the makeshift camp the rest of the team had set up.

Guys, rumpled in dirty BDUs, sat on crates or on the ground, shoveling an array of breakfast foods into their mouths. Johnson held up a forkful of something that might've been an omeleta"or it could've been an alien life forma"grimaced, and set his fork back down.

"Just a note," Will said as I made my way over. He nodded at Lieutenant Johnson. "Don't pick the Spanish omelet MRE."

"Noted," I said. "I'd give anything for my mom's cinnamon rolls right about now."

"Don't even joke about that," Will said. "I'll get homesick and cry."

I laughed; it felt good. "Well, breakfast won't taste any better for putting it off. Maybe there's something over there that won't give me food poisoning."

After digging through the chow crate for a few minutes, I found a sausage biscuit and fruit cup that didn't suck. I pulled up a piece of ground next to Will and wolfed the MRE down, absolutely starving. The headache and nausea of last night were long gone; good thing, too. Tink was busy, buzzing along my nerve endings with the speed of a meth-addicted hamster.

As I crumpled up my trash, two boys from the village approached Will and me. The littler one held out a grubby hand; resting on his palm was a small, smooth stone. It was some kind of ore, and a vein of glitter ran across the stone's middle.

"What's this?" I asked, not sure they spoke English.

The boy with the rock shot a questioning look at the bigger boy, who said, "It's a present. He keeps rocks and this is his favorite."

I glanced between the boys. "He's giving it to me?"

The bigger boy translated and they both nodded. I reached out to take the rock and the little boy grinned. Will leaned over my hand, pretending to examine the stone with great attention.

"That's a nice rock," he said, nodding seriously at the boys. "Very nice."

The boys burst into nervous laughter, and the older one said, "Thank you. He wanted you to have his best rock."

This was why I was out here. To keep people safe and earn rocks from little boys who didn't have much more to give. A lump grew in my throat, but I smiled and thanked him.

"You speak good English, by the way," Will said to the bigger boy.

He stood a little taller. "I guide the tourists when they come out to see the desert."

"Well, there you go," Will said. We took another minute to admire the rock before Uncle Mike came over. The boys seemed a little intimidated by him and they scampered away, waving at us.

"What was that about?" he asked.

"I got a rock," I said, holding up my prize. "Better payment than the Army's contractor fees."