“Your father does.”

“You mean the being that’s trying to kill me?” I shot back, whirling toward Chandra. “The one that just used Tekla to attack me in the hall?” I scoffed. “Yeah, I’m totally working on his behalf.”

“Well, I believe you,” Felix said, coming to stand at my side. “We knew the Kairos was going to be both Shadow and Light. It was foretold. So now we deal with it. Besides, Warren wants you here.”

Well, he had, I thought wryly. But I didn’t share that with Felix. It felt good to have someone on my side.

“Too bad it doesn’t matter what you believe or what Warren wants,” Chandra said, and a blue-green spark shot out across the ceiling. It bounded overhead, and her grin looked gaseous, evil in the receding light. “We still get to vote.”

“Vote?”

And that was all she needed to shore up her confidence. She lifted her square jaw and fisted her hands on her hips. “That’s right. You weren’t raised in the Zodiac, and you learned nothing in your first two life cycles. Your mother’s actions, or inaction, has displaced you and unbalanced the rest of us. Just like a rogue agent.”

“This is Zoe Archer’s daughter!” Vanessa sounded outraged.

“Yeah, what’s your lineage, Chandra? And drunken pity fucks that follow failed assignments don’t count.”

My brows rose at that, and I expected another “Fuck you, Felix,” but Chandra simply clenched her jaw against the jab—one she’d obviously heard before—and kept her ire trained on me. I’d have tolerated this—until she stepped into my personal space.

“All I’m saying,” she said, angling her head up so she was staring me dead in the eye, “is that the Kairos should at least be someone who can track the moon’s rise and fall without first referring to a map.”

“Someone as handsome as you perhaps?”

The oxygen was sucked from the room on a group inhalation. Clouds coiled over the walls, gray building upon gray, until the slanted ceiling was thick with them, walls obscured, the floor snaking with mist. Mood room, indeed.

“I’m going—”

“To kick my ass. Yes, I know. Then what? Climb a tree and start thumping your chest? Scary stuff, She-Man. If you can back it up.”

I thought I’d have time to brace and block. But apparently I still wasn’t up to superhuman speed. Chandra slapped me so quick and hard—palm flat, but nails curled to score my left cheek—that my head whipped to one side and I staggered back. I lifted my hand. My face throbbed in burning ribbons and I came away with blood. “You cut me.”

She sneered. “You’ll heal.”

I stood for a moment, hand pressed to my cheek, doing nothing. Then I burst into tears. The loud, snuffling kind with crocodile tears and a wide, open mouth. Through one slitted eye I saw Chandra drop her arms, half turning to the others with a bemused expression. She’d probably never faced a tearful superhero before.

Hunter’s warning cry was only half uttered when my foot plowed through her chest. I leaned back, putting my hips and thighs into the motion, and Chandra flew the entire length of the mat, crashing against the opposite wall, the back of her skull kissing her reflection with a gratifying crack. Greta had said Chandra needed time and space to grieve over the loss my arrival had cost her, but I decided a little ass-kicking would take her mind off it as well.

I touched my hand to my cheek. Chandra was right. I’d healed before she even hit the floor. I began to advance on her, but found myself blocked by Hunter’s not insignificant frame.

“Like to fight dirty, Archer?” he asked, backing me into the circle again. The Archer glyph shot across the walls again…until he stepped into the circle opposite me. Spearing from the apex of the pyramid came a giant glyph of curling horns that arrowed down into a sharp V. It exploded into a shower of smaller horns, the quantity instantly overtaking the Sagittarian glyph.

Definitely not on my ally list.

“I use the weapons available to me,” I told him, and this time I didn’t back down from him as he used up all my space.

His eyes narrowed to earthy brown slits. “Want to try them on a full-fledged star sign?”

Let’s see…a straightforward street fight versus an emotional game of “he says/she says”? I didn’t even have to think about it.

My palm shot out, but he was ready and caught it, twisting so it would have broken if I hadn’t relaxed and flipped with the motion. I cartwheeled through the air, landed again on my feet and sent him a jab, a knee, an elbow, and a bitch slap…all met and blocked in turn.

We disengaged, circling; me breathing hard, Hunter barely breathing at all. The room was a kaleidoscope again, the emotions of the onlookers merging with the glyphs now wheeling around the sky like mad fireflies. I took a moment to steady myself, then tried another tactic. Inhaling deeply, I threw a line of energy around his body like Warren had taught me, an invisible lasso between his intent and mine. No emotion crept up the invisible rope. If my eyes had been closed I wouldn’t even have known he was in the room. Impressive.

He knew exactly what I’d been doing, and white teeth flashed as he smiled. “Figure out my talent yet?”

“Yodeling off-key while standing on one foot on a pile of hot coals?” I sidestepped as he changed directions. The walls shifted with us, and the night sky above was clear again, cloudless.

“Close,” he said, and lunged. He was as lithe and compact as a mountain lion, as single-minded as well, but I’d convinced myself long ago that it was better, safer, to fight a skilled warrior than a street brawler. Less chance of accidental injury. Of course, there was a greater chance of calculated injury, but that was what defensive skills were for. I threw myself backward and kicked out a leg. Our shins met with a resounding crack. The knowledge that I’d heal made me a bit more reckless than usual, so I pivoted immediately, stayed close, and crushed his left cheek with a flying elbow as he turned.

A chorus of surprise lifted from the others as arrows shot over the walls and we disengaged again, him retreating this time. His exertion was coming off him in waves, manifesting itself in a coppery-smelling band that wrapped around me, linking me to him for as long as I remained his target.

He wasn’t holding back either. He really wished to overtake me. One part of me was thrilled with this deadly dance, the chance to test myself against someone strong, someone new. I was a fighter, that hadn’t changed, and this is what fighters did. Asaf always said the first encounter with a new foe was the most exciting, the most heady and the most dangerous, and he was right. I swam in Hunter’s adrenaline. I floated in my own.

Another part of me, however, was wondering how I’d ever thought this man attractive. He was looking at me like Ajax had; a quick sizing up of body and limbs, a predator searching for the weak, old, or inexperienced in the pack. Hunter was like this: patient, and absolutely feral as he waited for his opening.

He was also uncoiling his whip. The room was suddenly painted in giant ram horns again, not a Sagittarian glyph to be found.

“That’s cheating,” I said between breaths. He knew I didn’t have a conduit yet.

Pitiless, he shrugged and snapped it at his side, his wrist flicking expertly. “I use the weapons available to me.” Asshole.

I didn’t even need to see the walls to know I was in trouble. Bodies, even male against female, were one thing. Surprise could still be used to my advantage. But this was too much like my encounter with Ajax; ominously one-sided, frightening, and full of unknown risks. Alarm prickled along my skin, and was released, to my chagrin, through my pores.

I backed to the center of the mat to give myself room to maneuver away from the length of the whip, noting nobody else had spoken up in my defense. No That’s enough or Leave her be. Not even Micah, and that hurt. If there’d been any question before as to my place among these people, it was answered now. Hunter stalked me, and the others merely watched.