"You were a wielder once," I said, holding the knife out to him. "It seems like you're meant to be one again."

He let out a heavy breath. I knew what was going through his mind: Katie, Aunt Julie, leaving Pentagram Strike Force in someone else's hands. But sometimes we didn't get to choose our destinies. Tink had made sure I understood that. Finally, he reached out to take the knife.

The handle stayed dark and cold in his hand.

Chapter Eight.

"Wait," I said. "That wasn't supposed to happen."

The look of relief on Mike's face was plain. "Maybe you had your wires crossed."

"But, the spirit said ... " Oh, G.o.d. This wasn't right. It couldn't be. Because the alternative-no, I wouldn't think about that yet. "Here, I'll take it back and we'll see if it wants to transfer to someone else."

He handed it to me, smiling. "Dodged a bullet, huh?"

"Um, yeah." My mind spiraled a thousand scenarios as we joined the team in the operations room-none of them good. Finally, I whispered. "Show me home again."

Here. Parker's knife-spirit flashed up a mental picture of Uncle Mike's house.

My chest heaved like I'd been running. How I could give the knife to its rightful owner without hating myself for it? Would Mike ever forgive me?

You hesitate. Parker's knife-spirit sounded disappointed. You promised.

Give the boy a minute, will you? Tink said firmly. This isn't going to be easy, not for him nor several other people here.

Sometimes I was so grateful she had my back, but waiting would only delay the pain I was about to cause. After taking a moment to steady myself, I waved Aunt Julie over. "Captain Tannen? I need to talk to you."

Mike's head popped up from the reports he was reviewing on Davis's laptop screen. Yeah, he knew where this was headed.

"Matt, why don't you come here a minute?" he barked. "I need to talk to you."

Julie shot him a quizzical glance. "Give us a second, sir." She shook her head. "He's wound really tight today. Anyway, what do you need?"

Feeling sick down deep, I held Parker's knife out. "You need to take this from me."

"Captain Tannen!" Uncle Mike's voice was like a thunderclap. "Don't."

My aunt's shoulders relaxed and she seemed more dangerous in that moment than I'd ever seen. Without heeding her husband's-her commanding officer's-warning, she reached for the knife's handle.

Which promptly flashed blue and hummed in content.

Everything stopped. I don't think any of us breathed, except for Mike, who was staring in horror at his wife.

Our new wielder smiled the most bada.s.s smile I'd ever seen. "Well," Aunt Julie said. "That's better."

"Better?" Mike cried. "Better? You can't go into combat. You can't. We have to find someone else."

She turned on him, and if I'd been my uncle, I would've eaten every one of those words with ketchup to make sure I choked all of them down. While everyone else backed up against the walls, Uncle Mike stood stubborn in the center of the room as Aunt Julie closed the s.p.a.ce between them, as deadly and beautiful as a lioness.

"My maiden name was Hunter," she said calmly. "Every man on my father's side was one. Then my dad had two girls. But that didn't mean the end of the hunters in that family. I can do this, Colonel. I believe it, and so does the knife. He's telling me so right now."

"You can hear him? The knife-spirit?" Jorge asked, his strange eyes alight with excitement. "Truly?"

"Of course," Julie said, looking confused. "Aren't I supposed to?"

"Yes, eventually," Ramirez said. "You just tuned in faster than most of us did."

"Except Cruessan," I added. "He came online immediately."

"During a fight," Ramirez said. "The captain isn't under threat. That's what makes it so unusual."

He had a point. "It took me months to hear Tink for the first time."

"And it took two years for Parker and me to hear ours," Ramirez added.

"Maybe this is a sign that the captain belongs here, Colonel," I said. "In fact, I'm certain it is."

"You don't need a sign to know that," Aunt Julie said, her posture straight and proud. "You call me Bada.s.s Aunt Julie, and now I get to prove how well that nickname fits."

A little part of me was pumping my fist, screaming, "h.e.l.l, yes!" A bigger part felt a growing fear that my cousin would lose at least one parent before we finished this fight.

And Uncle Mike must've felt it, too, from the way his fists were clenched as he glared at Jorge, then me, as if we were to blame for putting a knife in his wife's hand. The glare wasn't the usual Colonel Tannen cold stare. No, this one was angry and betrayed, like we'd failed him in the most fundamental way possible. A heaviness settled in my gut; this was a look I'd hoped never to see aimed at me. And now it was. That hurt worse than any wound I'd ever been given. Like a smack in the face from someone I loved, someone I would die for.

A man I'd spent my life trying to make proud.

Sick, tired and sore-cut deep from what I'd seen and been through today-I backed out of the room, never breaking eye contact with Uncle Mike.

When his expression faded to a confused misery, I didn't know if it was because he fully realized what this meant for Julie, or because he hadn't meant to saddle me with the blame. Either way, he couldn't take it back now and I couldn't take any more.

So I left.

"Matt, honey?" Mom called as we walked through the lobby of the Ritz Carlton. Given the ragtag nature of our group, we would've received stares from the guests anyway, but the pointing and whispers told me everyone here knew who we were. One more burden I didn't feel like shouldering.

I hadn't said a word to anyone since I left the operations room. Parker's loss weighed even heavier knowing what it had caused. Mike had quietly kept trying to talk Julie out of accepting the knife. After two hours' worth of arguments, she'd stopped calling him Colonel and had started calling him You Giant a.s.s. Even that seemed like my fault.

So now, heedless of Mom's calls, of Mamie's worried glances, of Ella's steadfast protection during the ride to make sure everyone left me alone, I strode ahead. I was seconds away from losing it and I needed to stay together long enough to hit the elevator.

I punched the up b.u.t.ton repeatedly, clutching my room card-key like it was a lifeline. Mom scurried from the front desk after me, but I needed to be alone. The elevator dinged and the doors opened. I jabbed the b.u.t.ton for the twelfth floor, sagging in relief when the doors closed before Mom closed the distance between us. Shaking with fatigue, I sank into a crouch with my hand over my eyes.

Be easy, Matt. Be easy.

I forced myself to take a long, slow breath. Tink knew what I needed. I didn't know when I started relying on her counsel so much, but in a way, I was glad. Being at odds with her took too much energy and I needed every spare bit focused on the tasks in front of me instead of wasted on drama.

When the elevator stopped, I stumbled to my room and hung the "do not disturb" sign on the doork.n.o.b first thing. That wouldn't deter anybody for long, but maybe long enough.

My new BDUs weren't as filthy as the remnants of my suit had been, but my body was still sweaty, b.l.o.o.d.y and tired. I needed to wash this day off of me, start over somehow.

I stripped everything off on my way to the bathroom, not really caring where my clothes landed, and went to the bathroom to start the shower. I'd get clean, then I'd sleep, then-and only then-I'd think. The shower made a calming white noise and the hot water warmed the room. In the isolation, I could let it all go, just for a minute.

Then I made the mistake of looking in the mirror.

The guy who stared back frightened me. Not because of the old scars and new wounds. Not because the eyes had seen too much and had a weariness I didn't think would wear off.

No, he scared me because he resembled someone I knew, someone I hoped I'd never meet.

I'd seen a vision when I was barely fifteen, while waiting in the rainforest for monsters to come. I'd been terrified that night, about to p.i.s.s myself, when Tink had given me a glimpse of some possible future. A future in which men rode across a desert to fight a dark army that stretched across the horizon.

And the man who led them was the same one staring at me now, down to the last detail, from the angular face to the angry dark blue eyes, to the stubble on my chin.

I looked away from the mirror.

I stood in the shower a long, long time-maybe half an hour-letting the water run down my back. It burned the sc.r.a.pes I'd racked up during the fight, but I didn't care. I was washing all the ugliness away, and it seemed right that it hurt. My eyes glazed over with tears, but I blinked to make them stop. I didn't have the luxury of mourning. Tomorrow, the work would start again, and I had to be ready, both mentally and physically, for my part.

The idea wore me out and exhaustion made me clumsy as I stumbled out of the shower and dried off. I needed to rest, even if sleep meant nightmares, even if my stomach was a giant knot of pain.

I wrapped the towel around my waist and opened the door to my room.

Ella was sitting on my bed, waiting.

"Will talked the front desk into giving him an extra key. He just failed to tell them this wasn't his room," she said with a little smile.

She'd had a shower recently, too, because her hair was slightly damp and she had on fresh clothes. She looked beautiful and I was scared to talk, afraid of what I'd say. I'd thought I wanted to be alone. But that had been a lie.

I'd wanted to be alone with the right person, and the sight of her left me hanging by a thread.

Ella stood and took a tentative step toward me. "You're not okay."

I opened my mouth to tell her, sure, I was fine, but a shuddering breath came out instead, so I shook my head.

She reached out for my hands to pull me closer, and that was all it took to set me off. I dropped to my knees and wrapped my arms around her waist, burying my face against her shirt so she wouldn't see how torn apart I was.

She seemed to know that I didn't need her to talk. She stroked the back of my head while I breathed in and out, disoriented because I smelled citrus instead of vanilla. I knew it was from the hotel soap, but I missed the scent of her regular shampoo all the same.

After a few minutes, I pulled it together enough to stand. "Sorry."

"For what?" Ella asked. "Being human?"

"Being a psycho. For running out on everyone. For getting you into this mess."

She laid her hand against my cheek. "Psycho or not-and you're not, no matter what CNN says-I love you. You're hurting. It's okay to lean on me every once in a while. I'm not here only to hold up posters. You do so much, but you need someone to watch over you. That's my job. I'm here to be whatever you need, whenever you need it."

I leaned down to touch my forehead to hers. "How'd I get so lucky?"

"I'd say the same thing," she said. "I knew from the time you stuck up for me in math in ninth grade that you were something special, even before I knew about your job."

"All that time?" I asked. "Seriously? And I was scared to ask you out for months after that."

Her smile reached inside my chest and drove out the hurt. "I know. I kept waiting, then decided you only wanted to be friends. But when I figured out there was more to it, well, that's why I kissed you that first time."

That lock-in had been the first "best night of my life." There were several more after that, and each time, Ella had been there. "I'm glad you convinced me to man up, because I couldn't do this without you. I tried, and it didn't work."

"I'm glad we both figured that out and that Tink agreed," she said.

I'm not so sure "agree" is the word I'd use, but she does have a point. You're more focused when you have her to come home to. Tink made a sound suspiciously like a yawn. I need to recharge and, for your information, flight is not something I'll be able maintain often, so save it for a really special occasion. I'll tune back in tomorrow morning.

Then she was gone. I smiled; it took three years of b.u.t.ting heads, but I thought we finally understood each other.

"She putting up a fuss?" Ella asked.

"The opposite. She's leaving us alone."

"I might die of shock." She trailed a finger from my collarbone down my chest to catch a drop of water I missed when drying off. "But I think I'll save that for later. We have other plans while the hall monitor is gone."

I held her close enough to feel her heart beating. "We do. And I hope to G.o.d the Army doesn't need me for the next twelve hours, because I'm not answering the phone, the door, or texts until then."

"Twelve hours, huh?" The way she said it made my whole body flush red hot. "You up for that?"

I remembered something I'd overheard Johnson say once. Losing someone close to you sometimes makes you want to curl up and hide. But sometimes, it makes you want to prove you're alive, and right now I wanted to live. To forget the pain, even if it was just for today. In the morning, I'd be all business, but tonight I belonged to someone else.

"Yeah." I tangled my fingers in her hair and whispered kisses along her jawbone. "I'm up for anything."

Chapter Nine.

"Do you think you ordered enough food for dinner?" Ella asked, coming out of the bathroom later that evening to find six trays of room service spread out across the bed.

"For me? Yes. Not sure what you're going to eat." I made a show of peeking under all the plate covers. "Oh, chocolate cake. That's for you."

She came over to take the cake from me, probably to make sure I wouldn't change my mind and eat that, too. "There better be something more substantial in there, because I'm starving. And that's your fault."