“But he is right. It is true.”

“It isn’t even half true.”

“Bea—”

“No, listen. He was wrong. About everything. I mean, I loved him. I did. I’d give anything to see him again. Just for one minute. A second. I adored him. He could be wickedly funny. He took up so much space. But Dad…he saw monsters and shadows everywhere. And he never once faced them.”

“I feel like that sometimes,” I whisper. “Like I’m…being closed in on, chased by shadows.”

Bea stops walking, swivels, grabs me by the shoulders and turns me to face her. Her eyes, under the wedge of hair, swim with brightness. “You’re nothing like him,” she says. “OK? Nothing. You’re brave. Braver than me––”

“No. I’m not. I’m––”

“You’re not like him, Moon. He was afraid. And in the end, he deserted us. But that’s not you. You’d never do that. You face your monsters. That’s you.”

34

AM-41 wears the Wraith barely concealed under his poncho, looped on a simple chain around his neck. I had assumed an artefact of such legend would be under severe lock and key. Not so much. But it occurs to me, as he dips his head and unhooks the chain, that this is perhaps the best way to hide something rare—in plain sight.

He releases the clasp and drops the chain and the vial of blood—black in its tube of glass—into the palm of his metal hand. Then he extends it to me.

His blue machine-eyes bore into me.

I step forward, reach for the vial, enclose it in my fist.

Deep in my body, the heat begins. A swirling, burning feeling from head to foot. It happens the moment my skin touches the vial. I slide the chain over my head and draw a sharp intake of breath. My heart thunders. My pulse roars.

Compelled by a sudden desire for open space, I step outside the plane, into the dawn. The world is different outside. Brighter. Stars burn like lit bonfires and the waxing moon is so fierce I can’t look at it without a sharp pain in my eyes. And, low at the curving Earth, a ball of amber fire rises.

Malik comes to my side. Wordlessly, we climb up onto the wing of the shattered Boeing and walk to the end. We stand there and watch the sun climb, my eyes adjusting to the brightness.

Something inside me is waking up.

“Ana?” Malik says. “You need to know something.”

“Oh?”

He sucks his cheeks. Looks away. “I lied.”

“Lied about what?”

He turns to me again. “That Reaper. The one you stuck. It’s not dead.”

My stomach shrinks to the size of a fist. “What?”

“We caught it,” he says. “And we brought it back here.”

“Who caught it?”

“Me. Kuji. AM-41. Some of the hermits.”

I wheel around. Look back at the fuselage of the plane.