“Back to your rooms,” the agent repeated sharply. “Now!”

“Couldn’t have announced that in the first place?” Jason muttered as he tried to corral his students back up the crowded staircase. We all moved quickly and with a surprising lack of conversation. Even Jody couldn’t be bothered to hiss a snide remark at me when she bumped into me.

Sarita was already in our room, of course, and sitting on the edge of her neatly made bed. Her hands were clenched tightly around a stake and she jumped nervously when I came in. The movement was jerky enough to see, even under the very faint red light from above the door. I flicked the regular light switch but nothing happened. I sighed and dropped onto the edge of my own, considerably more rumpled bed. I dragged my hunter kit out from underneath.

“This is still more fun than detention,” I said.

Sarita just sat there looking tense.

“I’m sure everything’s okay,” I offered awkwardly, trying to reassure her. On the scale of scary-ass things that had happened to me this past week alone, this ranked pretty low.

“I hate drills,” Sarita admitted softly. “They give me panic attacks. I’m much better with regular exams.”

“You’ll do fine,” I assured her, choosing not to share Hunter and Chloe’s opinion that this was no ordinary drill. She might sink into a full-blown anxiety attack. Better to smile encouragingly. “Just breathe deeply.”

After about five minutes of sitting in the dark, a knock sounded at the door, startling us both. It seemed excessively loud in the silence. Sarita squeaked. It swung open to reveal the agent from downstairs. Sarita visibly relaxed when she saw the regulation cargo pants.

“Lucy Hamilton.”

I stood up slowly. “Yes?”

“Come with me.”

I frowned. “Where?” I was trying to remember what I could possibly have done this time to be singled out like this. It seemed an excessive reaction to sneaking out past curfew.

“Just come with me, please.”

“Go.” Sarita pushed me gently. “She’s an agent.”

I wasn’t raised a Helios-Ra hunter, so I didn’t find the sight of black cargos particularly reassuring.

“Is something wrong?” I asked when we were out in the empty hallway.

“It’s your friend Solange,” she answered. When she went down the back stairwell, I followed at a dead run.

“What happened? Is she okay?” I stumbled outside to the deserted campus. The Huntsman stationed out front nodded to us as we crossed to the van idling on the lawn. Two more agents and another Huntsman slid the door open. I frowned at his trophy necklace, feeling a trickle of unease beneath the instinctual panic at the thought of Solange being in trouble.

“Hang on,” I said. Because Hunter was right. Something was seriously off.

For one thing, why would a bunch of hunters care one way or another about Solange?

Too late.

The Huntsman yanked me inside. I heard a distant yell through the window and saw Mr. York sprinting across the snow. I struggled and tried to yell back. I managed to kick one of the hunters in the kidney but the Huntsman was stronger than me and didn’t loosen his hold even for a second. A cloth soaked in some kind of sickly sweet liquid covered my mouth and nose. I held my breath for as long as I could, which wasn’t nearly long enough. Eventually, I had to inhale.

The inside of the van spun and went black.

When I opened my eyes again, I had no idea how long I’d been unconscious. I only knew it was still dark out and I was in the forest with my hands tied together. My vision was blurry and I was disoriented, trying to get my thoughts to make sense. I could see Helios-Ra hunters, Huntsmen, even a vampire in the brown leather tunic of Montmartre’s Host. I shrunk back, making myself smaller. And then the camp lantern above my head swung in a sudden gust of wind, casting a wider pool of light.

“But—” I blurted out. “You’re supposed to be dead.”

Chapter 31

Solange

As it turned out, being a revolutionary was actually quite boring.

Until the assassin returned, that was.

Before that, I mostly had to sit quietly and restrain myself from rolling my eyes when vampires ten times my age acted like toddlers in need of a nap. There was a lot of shouting and slamming of fists on the council table. Dad said the pressure had built up so long it needed a healthy outlet before we got down to the real work. If they didn’t start being more productive by the end of the night, I felt sure everyone was going to be treated to one of the famous Liam lectures.

In the meantime, I just had to survive.

I’d been wandering through the field of dirt bikes and motorcycles, now covered in a thin dusting of snow. Duncan was puttering with one of the antique Triumphs, mostly to get away from the crowds. Marcus sat on a bench with a pile of books. The immunity powers of my blood, the magic in the copper collars, and the way Viola survived, had all posed more questions than they’d answered. And there was nothing he loved so much as a riddle.

I was on the edge of the field, wondering if I’d finally have a chance to spend an hour at my pottery wheel when we got home, when the first body dropped from the treetop.

The girl landed in front of me with a thud that scattered icicles and dead leaves. Three slender silver spikes stuck out of her chest, all surrounding her heart and the Chandramaa crest stitched in her vest. She wheezed, blood spattering her lips. I crouched down to pull the stakes out and her eyes tracked me, wide and terrified.