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The rune bites into my arm before I reach the first subway step.
"You good?" Ash Chen asks.
"Do I look good?"
He glances at the blue light leaking through my sleeve. His hand drops toward his gun, then stops halfway. "Uh... no. Not really."
"Then quit staring and move."
I shove past him and start down.
The subway entrance reeks of piss, burnt plastic, and old blood. Ash follows close enough that his boots keep clipping mine. Twenty-three. Vest too clean. Gun probably hasn't done more than punch paper.
Marcus sent me a babysitter.
A babysitter with no idea what he's walking into.
"So," Ash says, trying too hard to sound casual, "how long has it been since you did fieldwork?"
"Three years."
"That's... a long break."
"It wasn't a break. I quit."
"But you came back."
I stop on the landing.
Ash nearly crashes into me. His breath hits the back of my neck before he jerks away.
"Marcus showed me a dead man walking around with my teammate's tags," I say. "You think I had a choice?"
His mouth opens. Closes.
Smart kid.
"Keep moving," I tell him.
"Right. Moving."
We go deeper. Half the lights are dead, and the rest buzz overhead like they're waiting to give up. A man wrapped in newspapers sleeps against the tile wall. Ash slows when we pass him.
"Don't touch him," I say.
"I wasn't going to."
"You were thinking about it."
"He could be hurt."
"Down here, everybody's hurt. Keep your eyes forward."
The platform waits below us, empty and filthy. The last train left an hour ago. Beyond the tracks, the tunnel mouth gapes black.
Cold air rolls out of it.
Not subway cold. Chemical cold.
The rune pulses beneath my skin.
Ash pulls out his phone. "Marcus said the target was spotted near the east junction. That's half a mile in."
"Put it away."
"I need the map."
"You need your ears."
I step off the platform and drop onto the tracks.
Ash stares down at me. "You're just going to jump?"
"No. I'm going to stand here all night and admire the third rail. Get down."
He mutters something and jumps. His boots skid on the gravel. I catch his vest before he goes down.
For one second, we're too close.
His shoulder knocks my chest. His breath catches. My hand is still fisted in the front of his vest, and his eyes lock on mine.
"Careful," I say.
"I had it."
"Sure you did."
I let go.
Ash straightens his vest, cheeks tight with embarrassment. "You always this pleasant?"
"Only with people Marcus sends to slow me down."
"He said you were difficult."
"Marcus says a lot of things."
I turn toward the tunnel.
The rune flares again.
Blue lines crawl from my wrist to my elbow, then higher, glowing through my skin. The light spills across the rails and gives us five feet of vision.
Ash stares. "That's new."
"No."
"No?"
"It's old. I just haven't used it in three years."
"Does it hurt?"
"Only when I use it."
The lie comes out clean.
It hurts all the time. Like hot wire threaded through my veins. Pulling the trigger makes it worse. Three years hasn't dulled the memory of that pain—or the way the weapon answers when I call it.
Ash walks beside me now, close enough that his sleeve brushes mine whenever the tunnel narrows.
"What exactly are we hunting?" he asks.
"You read the file."
"The file said bioweapon exposure. It didn't say what the target looks like."
"You saw the word bioweapon and still came down here?"
"I saw your name on the assignment."
I glance at him.
He looks ahead, suddenly interested in the tracks.
"That supposed to make me feel better?" I ask.
"No."
"Good."
We keep walking.
The city noise dies behind us. Only our footsteps remain, plus water dripping somewhere in the dark and the low electric hum of the third rail.
I keep us tight against the far wall.
"Don't step left," I say.
Ash looks down. "Why?"
"Because that rail will cook you."
He moves closer to me without arguing.
A few seconds later, I hear it.
Breathing.
Slow. Wet. Wrong.
I stop so fast Ash almost hits me again.
This time, his hand catches my arm.
The rune flashes under his fingers.
Ash sucks in a breath and releases me. "Sorry."
"Don't touch me when I stop."
"You could've warned me."
"I did. You weren't listening."
The breathing comes again, closer now.
A sweet, rotten smell creeps through the tunnel. Meat left in the sun. Old chemicals underneath.
My stomach twists.
I know that smell.
Three years, and I still know it.
I raise my left hand, fist closed. "Stay behind me."
Ash draws his gun. "What is it?"
"Bioweapon."
"How do you know?"
"Shut up."
"Ivy—"
"If it rushes, you shoot after I shoot. Not before."
"That's not an answer."
"It's the only one you're getting."
The rune ignites.
Blue fire runs up my arm and burns across my collarbone. My fingers jerk open. The weapon wants out.
Not wants.
Hungers.
Light folds over my palm. Runes snap into place. A long barrel forms from blue-white fire, solidifying piece by piece until something that used to be part of my bone rests against my hand.
The trigger warms beneath my finger.
It feels good.
That's what scares me.
Ash whispers, "Holy shit."
"Yeah."
"You made that?"
"Don't get used to it."
The breathing stops.
The silence hits harder than the sound did.
Ash raises his gun. "Where is it?"
I don't answer.
The smell thickens.
Something moves ahead.
Fast.
Too fast.
I fire.
Blue-white light tears through the tunnel. The recoil punches through my arm and sinks into my spine. My teeth clamp down before the scream can escape.
A shriek rips back at us—high, metallic, almost human.
The afterglow catches its shape.
Humanoid. Gray skin hanging slick over a twisted frame. A jaw stretched too long. Black eyes with nothing behind them.
And a white plastic tag around its neck.
GS-7.
My finger tightens around the trigger.
"No," I breathe.
Ash looks at me. "You know it?"
"I know the number."
The creature launches itself off the tunnel wall.
"Shoot!" Ash yells.
I fire twice.
The rounds slam into its chest. It drops hard, skids over the gravel, and crashes into the concrete.
Ash fires after it. His shot cracks through the tunnel and sparks against the wall.
"I said after me!"
"It was still moving!"
"So was your brain, last I checked."
"Is it dead?"
I keep the weapon trained on the body. My arm screams. The blue light shakes with every breath.
"Check the tag."
Ash stares at me. "You want me to walk over there?"
"No, I want you to sing it a goodbye song. Yes, check the tag."
"You're insane."
"Move."
He creeps forward, gun aimed at the creature's head. His boots crunch over gravel. The body doesn't twitch.
Ash crouches.
His gloved hand reaches for the tag.
That's when I see the tracker clipped inside his vest.
Small. Black. Hidden behind the front plate.
A red light blinks once.
Then again.
Marcus is watching us.
No.
Marcus is watching me.
Ash yanks the tag free and stands. "GS-7. Luis Vega."
His voice drops. "Holy shit, Ivy. This is Luis."
"I know."
"Luis Vega died in the lab fire."
"I know."
"Then how is he here?"
I look at the thing wearing Luis's tag.
"He isn't."
Ash's grip tightens around the plastic. "What does that mean?"
"It means that's not Luis."
"It has his tag."
"It has his tag. That's all."
"You don't know that."
"I know enough."
The rune dims, satisfied for now. My arm keeps burning beneath the sleeve.
Three shots.
I'll pay for them later. When the adrenaline drains. When the nerve damage catches up and my fingers stop working for a few minutes.
Ash steps closer. "We need to report this."
"No."
"Marcus needs to know."
"Marcus already knows."
The words leave my mouth before I can stop them.
Ash goes still.
I turn away from him. "Come on. East junction's another quarter mile."
"Wait."
"Keep walking."
"You said Marcus already knows. How?"
"Because he sent us here."
"That's not proof."
"The tracker in your vest is proof."
Ash freezes. "What tracker?"
I look over my shoulder.
His face has gone pale.
"Inside your vest," I say. "Behind the plate. Red light. Live feed."
His hand flies to his chest. "I didn't put it there."
"I know."
"You think I planted it?"
"If you had, you'd be doing a better job of hiding it."
Ash tears open the front flap and finds the black device. His thumb hovers over it.
"Don't touch it," I snap.
"Why not?"
"Because if it's transmitting, Marcus is listening."
Ash looks up. "Then let's tell him what he wants to hear."
For the first time, I really look at him.
His voice is steady now. Too steady.
"What do you want to tell him?" I ask.
"That the target's dead."
"He'll know."
"Then we'll tell him we found nothing else."
"There is something else."
"What?"
I point at the body. "The tags. The lab. The fact that Luis wasn't the only one who survived."
Ash's jaw tightens. "You think Marcus made them?"
"I think Marcus knew what came out of that fire."
"And you came back because you wanted answers."
"I came back because I wanted the truth."
"What's the difference?"
"Answers let you sleep. Truth keeps you alive."
Ash steps in front of me, blocking the tunnel.
His shoulder nearly touches mine. The blue glow from my arm paints his face in cold light. His breath is quick, but he doesn't move away.
"You don't trust me," he says.
"I don't trust anyone Marcus sends."
"That's not what I asked."
For half a second, neither of us speaks.
His hand lifts, stopping just short of my wrist. The rune hums between us.
"Don't," I warn.
His eyes drop to the light, then return to mine. "You said it hurts all the time."
"I lied."
"Why?"
"Because you ask too many questions."
"Maybe you give too few answers."
The tunnel seems to shrink around us.
Then a voice rolls through the center passage.
Soft. Distant.
"Sparrow."
I stop breathing.
Ash turns toward the sound. "Who the hell's Sparrow?"
The voice comes again, clearer this time.
"Sparrow. I know you're there."
Nobody alive knows that name.
Not after the fire.
Not after Ghost Squad.
Not after Zero vanished.
The rune erupts up my arm, bright enough to sting my eyes. The weapon forms again in my hand without permission.
Ash sees it. "Ivy, what are you doing?"
I take one step toward the center tunnel.
"Don't," he says.
"Move."
"You said nobody knows that name."
"Nobody alive does."
A shadow shifts at the far end of the passage.
The voice speaks one more time.
"Come find me, Sparrow."
My grip tightens around the glowing weapon.
Ash catches my wrist. Heat presses through his glove. His face is inches from mine, his eyes locked on me, fear and something sharper tangled in them.
"If that's Zero," he whispers, "then who—"