Saul laughed. It was one of those incredulous laughs that someone utters when they hear something so ludicrous it’s actually funny. “Are you crazy? You almost got chopped to pieces, and your best friend over there would have probably died too if I hadn’t come along.”

“I could have handled the situation. And Deacon was in no danger,” Letho said.

“Bullshit. You were about to get your head sawed off by your little girlfriend when I showed up,” Saul said, putting a finger in Letho’s face.

“Saul, it would be a good idea to get your finger out of my face right now,” Letho snarled, his voice taking on the multi-toned chordal texture of Tarsi song-speak.

“Boys, let’s talk about this in the morning,” Zedock cut in. “What do you say? Everyone’s a little hot right now. A good night’s sleep would do everyone good.” He placed his hands on the two men’s shoulders.

“I’m okay,” Deacon said. “Got anything to eat?” No one responded. Deacon sighed and shrugged his shoulders. “All right, to the dormitories it is.”

****

Letho lay on his bunk, counting the flecks of black in the ceiling tiles and replaying the day’s events in his mind. He had expected there to be Mendraga living among the Fulcrum citizens, had even made peace with the fact that some of them had made the choice to accept Abraxas’s gift. But to worship him as a god? The image of the young woman on her knees, supple lips parted, ready to accept Abraxas’s vile blood… That image wouldn’t be going away anytime soon. But perhaps that was a good thing—for it was a reminder of why he had to fight. So that no one else would ever end up feeling the need to choose the gift over natural life.

Like Thresha.

Fight me for real, or we both die, she had said. She was trying to keep them both alive by stabbing the ever-living piss out of him. By doing so she had proved her loyalty to Alastor. Letho’s heart swelled in his chest. She hadn’t betrayed them after all. Letho was reluctant to admit it, but he knew that he had brushed the gossamer veil of mortality in his conflict with Thresha and the other Mendraga. The many bullet wounds he had suffered had weakened him greatly.

A bullet went through my skull. How can I possibly still be alive?

Thresha could have killed him—in fact she almost did. It was brilliant. In the hazy last moments of the conflict, he had seen Alastor’s personal guard pulling a staggering Thresha back, just as Saul was tossing a limp Letho onto the back of a stolen hover bike.

So, they had an ally in the inner circle. And if Bayorn could raise an army of reborn Tarsi… They just might be able to put up a good fight against Abraxas.

But how to get back into the city? History had shown Letho that laying siege to a walled city usually ended badly for the siege-layers, provided that those being sieged had an ample supply of food. He’d have to talk to Saul and see if he had any ideas. Or perhaps Saladin could be of some assistance. He’d have to ask him later. Letho didn’t really feel like having a conversation with his sword at the moment, for there was no such thing as a short conversation with the verbose AI, and Letho needed some quiet time to recuperate.

His thoughts turned to his friends. His rational mind, cold and calculating as ever, took inventory of them all. He felt a momentary sickness in the pit of his stomach when he considered his own callousness. His rational mind, his copilot, saw things in blacks and whites, without the complications of hues and shades. It knew that if any of the others fell, he would feel sadness, but that it would subside.

But Bayorn. His friend. His mentor. Maka, like his own brother. And Zedock, a father he had loved before he even knew of their true relationship. Deacon, his best friend, who would never abandon him, even if all of the Mendraga in the universe were beating down the door to Haven, howling for blood.

And what about Thresha? Ah yes, there’s the rub. You have fallen in love with the enemy. Centuries of human literature can attest to the fact that this story never ends well, Letho’s copilot said.

She’s not the enemy. She’s demonstrated it time and again, Letho replied, grinning at the notion that he was having a conversation inside his own mind with a mental construct that was himself but at the same time wasn’t.

You don’t know that. She could be communicating with her master right now. She could be leading us into a trap. You think you know her. You even think you love her. You are a fool, Letho Ferron.

Then Letho heard a voice, a feminine one. Or did he? Did it occur only inside his mind?

“It’s me.”

Letho’s heart leapt into his throat, threatening to choke the life out of him. His stomach somersaulted, and flights of insects flittered across its lining.

“Thresha?”

“Yes.”

“This is crazy. How…”

“Just shut up. We don’t have long. I don’t know how, but I found you. I thought this communication could only occur between Mendraga, but then I saw you—in my mind, I mean. Think of it like a uCom call. If you close your eyes, I think you can see me too.”

Letho did, and she was right. Thresha stood before him, beautiful and ethereal. Her skin had a glow to it, emanating from her body in little eddies and whorls like flames. Letho rose to his feet on instinct, and then realized he had no idea what to do with his hands, let alone the rest of his body. He swayed, a drunkard in combat boots and fatigues.

“Uh, have a seat,” he said, gesturing to a wheeled task chair next to his bunk. The sparse furniture and lack of space forced intimate closeness upon them. She took a seat in the chair, and he on the edge of his bunk. She was inches from him. He longed to reach out and place his hand on her leg, but knew that it would be like passing his hand through smoke. He realized that neither had spoken for a few moments, and his brain short-circuited in an attempt to choose the right words to break the silence.

But Thresha was the one to speak first. “I, uh, just wanted to see how you were doing,” she said. “I hope I didn’t hurt you too badly. I had to make it look real. Alastor was testing me. To see if I was loyal.”

“Well, I won’t lie, it hurt like a bastard, and I think you actually almost succeeded in killing me. Almost.” He looked into her eyes, and felt his stomach twisting.

“I am sorry, Letho.”

“Why did you leave us?” Letho asked.

“I don’t know. Part of me was angry at the way I was treated. Part of me wanted to feed on the real thing,” she said, looking down, fidgeting with her hands. “And if I’m being honest… I wanted to see Alastor again.”

Letho scoffed. “So you did betray us.”

“My relationship with Alastor is complicated, Letho. He’s like a father to me, and…”She paused. “… A husband,” she stammered, fidgeting with her hands even more. She placed her fingers against her temple so that Letho could not see her eyes and she could not see his.

“A husband?” Letho felt revulsion roiling in his stomach like bile mixed with magma.

“You can’t possibly understand,” Thresha said. “I spent centuries with this man. Being groomed by him, taught by him. We, Mavus and I, we were going to be nobility in his new kingdom. That idea has been hard to turn away from.”

“You didn’t respond to my statement. Did you betray us or not?”

“If you need it to be laid out so simply, Letho, no. I have betrayed nothing. I can feel him, always searching my mind. But I keep it hidden. It’s exhausting.” The ethereal representation of Thresha took a deep breath. “And there is something else. I think he might have someone inside Zedock’s organization. Someone he speaks to via some sort of com link. I’m afraid that Alastor may already know the location of Haven. I have seen glimpses of it in his mind.”

“Do you know who this source is?”