In clipped sentences, I told him how I had defeated Jones. I finished and crossed my arms high on my chest. He looked me over, skeptically. The cuts on my face and my right eye, swollen nearly shut, gave credence to my story. Slowly, a measure of reserved respect ripened in the air between us. He agreed to follow me back to the testing suite. Instead of taking the main stairs up to the next floor, I led him down to the first floor. We crossed the open colonnade, to the arched opening that led down to the Pit. I put my shoulder against the wood-and-iron door to open it.

Condor stopped me. “Do you lie, girl? Where are you taking me?” His teeth clenched around the words—like a threat.

With a grunt, I shoved open the door and continued down a long flight of stairs. At the bottom, I turned and answered him. “We’re going to free our brother, Martin. He is the brain behind your army, is he not?”

He stepped into the opening, closed the door and folded his arms. “Martin’s life is finished. To free him is to forfeit my life and our cause! We must leave him be.”

Before he’d uttered the last word, my Helix was in my hand. I bent my arm at the elbow and let it fly up the stairs, directly toward him. He ducked, saving his head as the weapon arced around him. Seeing he was terrified, I called it back. I leapt up, catching it with both hands. But I wasn’t done. He needed to taste my strength.

In midair, I grunted and broke the Apex in two. As I fell, I willed the two broken ends to transform. I envisioned the shape I wanted and labored to give it life. Longer, wider, twisting and arching. I groaned as they pulled, sucking energy from my bones. Finally, it was finished. I landed on one knee, head bowed, chest heaving. In the air behind me, my Double Helix had taken its second form. The two halves of the boomerang were gone, transformed into a pair of curved swords with vicious, jagged edges. I looked up at Condor.

He crouched down, his mouth open, hands raised in surrender.

I got to my feet. “Stand,” I commanded. “But I warn you, time is short and we must stand together.”

He glanced up at me, “Together?” he asked.

“First and Second Brothers, Loyalist and Rebel, Hannibal, Covington, West Keep, Bankhead and the like. Every Kongo must be united if we’re to defeat our enemy.”

“And who is our enemy?” he asked.

“Don’t you see? Our enemy is the Niagara Compromise itself, and those whom the Compromise protects—the English.” My tone reminded me of Voltaire. “Death to the English!” I shouted.

He shook his head. “You’re mad!”