Mara smiles. “My sole ambition, at first, was to get an insider’s understanding of the Collective, find a way to strike at the heart—Mother. Then, like a bolt from the sky, you arrive. You, gifted that blade at your hip and then the Wraith. These two things alone are worth more than you could ever imagine. But bringing you to Shinigami…that will be the final nail in the Collective’s coffin.”

“So, then you’re taking us to the pyramid? Shinigami’s place in Venetia?” I say, thinking about Bea.

“When the tide falls,” Mara answers, nodding.

“No!” Vidhan yells. “Not without Malik.”

Rodolfo laughs. “Come, come. Certamente, you can see you have no choice in the matter? Why not accept your fate? And our…hospitality.”

He, like his sister, is circling the space, tall and straight-backed, closing in on us in an ever-tightening coil.

“Like hell you’re takin us,” Vidhan bawls, and leaps across the space.

Four things happen at once. One on top of the other.

First, Mara arcs her body and spins in to attack Vidhan.

Second, Vidhan disappears.

Third, Mara’s fighting sticks stab into the empty space where he was standing before.

Fourth, he reappears at her left shoulder.

Vidhan roars in anger and lashes out—a wild haymaker that Mara easily ducks, but Vidhan has hell in his eyes. He delivers a kick to Mara, right under the ribs, and she flies to the side. Vidhan flies after her, undeterred by the fact that he’s unarmed and bleeding. It happens so fast, so unexpectedly, I’m rooted to the spot.

Then I swivel on my toes to face Mara’s brother. I draw the sword.

Too late. Rodolfo’s staff comes whipping through the air with a sound like a crack of thunder and slams into my shoulder. A white flash of pain and I roll backward into a corner. I flip to my feet, growling like an animal.

What happens next unfolds in slow motion, dreamlike.

Mara’s fighting sticks cut the air in a blur.

Vidhan smokes out the way.

I run into Mara, but she sidesteps me with ease and I flounder and crash down. From the ground, I see Vidhan come at her again. He’s sweating heavily now—pale and grey in the face—and he catches her in the hip with a side-kick. But it’s a feeble attempt. Rodolfo swings his staff around his body like he’s Bruce Lee and slams it home across Vidhan’s back, sending him careening across the space towards Mara. She watches him, hungrily. Then she does a little pirouette move. Swinging her fighting sticks like a ballerina. Agile. Beautiful. Deadly.

She catches him across the cheek.

Vidhan staggers back, reeling drunkenly. His arms hang limp. A cut opens on his cheek.

Mara looks at him, calm and calculating. She swings her fighting sticks.

I drag myself up onto my knees and scream.

“No! Please no!”