I turn to the mirror, taking in the way the silky dress falls over me.
Aurora peeks her head over my shoulder with a wicked grin. “That’s the one.”
“Great. Now some more practical clothes would be nice,” I say, folding the gown and tucking it under my arm.
“Yes, lucky for you, there’s no shortage of tactical clothes around here.” Aurora tosses me a black backpack.
I unzip it, place the dress in the bottom, then follow her lead as we start going through drawers. She tosses me a couple of shirts, soft, worn cotton and a pair of fitted pants that look like they’ll hold up in a fight. I grab a sweater, because God knows the Southern District is unpredictable when it comes to weather… and maybe because I like the idea of having something comforting to pull on if things get bad.
“Do you feel anything yet from going through Bash’s equipment?” she asks suddenly, shutting the closet door with a click before plopping down on the corner of the bed.
“I think so,” I admit, sitting beside her and resting my elbows on my knees. “When I was on the lower levels, it felt weird. Not the usual cold-prickle weird. Damien showed up without me even thinking about him, but it was more than that.” I try to pin down the sensation. “I had this pressure, like what usually separates me from the spirits was thinning. Almost like the space between us was weaker.”
She nods, not looking away. “Like a door opening.”
“Kind of,” I say quietly, rubbing the back of my neck. “But I don’t know if I was the one opening it or if someone else was holding it open for me.”
“Keep embracing it. Now’s the time to push yourself, seehow far you can take it when you still have the time to recover. Better now than in the middle of something that can get you killed,” she says.
“I will,” I assure her, slipping the backpack over my shoulders. “I better go see Bash before it’s time to go.”
She stands, pulling me into a tight hug. “Be careful. And don’t trust anyone,” she murmurs, and then she’s gone, heading back toward the training room to work with the others.
I find Bash exactly where I expect him, hunched over his desk, head buried deep in the glow of his computer screens.
“You wanted to see me before I go,” I say, stepping inside.
He glances up, his eyes shadowed like he’s been thinking too much. “I have what you asked for,” he says, pushing back from his chair and crossing to one of the locked cabinets along the side wall.
“I already gave Malachi an assortment of Avidian to use if you guys get in a pinch,” he continues, rummaging until he finds something. “But like you asked, I didn’t tell him about this one.”
He turns and presses a tiny vial into my palm. I hold it up to the light. It’s black, nothing like the usual Avidian’s shimmering blues and purples that remind me of a faraway galaxy. It doesn’t even look like the viscous dark-green vial I found at Marco’s. This is something else entirely.
“What’s wrong with it?” I ask.
“This is your Avidian. Your essence.” He shifts awkwardly, scratching the back of his head. “It’s…”
I turn it over in my fingers, watching as the black and silver, glitter-laced substance swirls in slow, hypnotic currents. It’s beautiful in a dangerous way, like oil slick over deep water.
“There’s something different about it, Kat,” he says finally. “And I’m not sure what it means. Be careful withit, okay?”
I don’t have time to press him for answers before Cade steps into the room. His eyes scan for me instantly.
I slip the vial into my pocket before he can see it.
“Here.” He tosses something my way, a cloth bifold. When I unfold it, I find a neat row of tiny wickedly sharp daggers nestled inside, along with a thigh strap.
“Mal will have plenty of weapons,” Cade says with a smirk, “but I figured you should have something too.”
I run a finger along the hilt of one dagger. They’re beautiful, sleek, balanced, and small enough to hide under my dress or slide into a boot without notice. Exactly the kind of weapon to use up close.
“They’re perfect,” I admit, tucking them into my backpack. Impulsively, I step forward and wrap my arms around his neck.
He hugs me back easily, leaning down so his breath brushes my ear. “Watch your back out there, Kitty Kat. Don’t make me come hunting you down again.”
I giggle, leaning against his side. “You’re all acting like I’m not coming back. I’ll see you in two days. And I’ll be ready for training. I’m not losing sight of our mission. This is a minor detour.”
But if someone knew I’d delve below the first floor and see the recording of Irina’s machinations, wouldn’t they also know I’d react exactly like this?
