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The room was silent save for the muted shuffle of Petra Bellweather’s boots and the slightest crinkle of the general’s pristine dark blue woolen uniform.
Raelle stood still, half at attention, hands clasped behind her back, as she watched the older witch curiously with exhausted eyes that refused to sleep.
When was the last time she’d actually slept?
The fixer clenched her teeth to the point her gums ached.
She knew the last time.
Before graduation.
Before citydrop.
Before China and blowing up and seeing her dad with the other parents waving from his seat in the crowd.
Before…
Before Scylla told her she loved her.
Before holding the one person she ever loved in her arms. Dancing. Drinking. Laughing.
Giving her a bird’s skull that meant so much more than Raelle could ever say to the brunette.
Before lies and heartache and walking away as Scylla’s screams lodged in her ears. Repeated in her head over and over and over again.
Before Izadora told her that her entire world was gone. Her hope. Her future. The only person Raelle needed.
Before Scylla wasn’t Scylla. Wasn’t her Scylla.
Before Raelle knew what dying felt like and watched a helicopter leave her and her best friend behind.
Before…
Before her entire life changed.
No, that’s not true.
Her life changed when her mother died. When she took the oath. When she met Scylla.
God damn, it changed so many times.
Now, here she was, unable to sleep, exhausted as hell, and not knowing what the hell was happening to her.
She should have died.
That’s the one thing she knew.
She should be dead.
Be in the sky with her mom and grandma.
But, she wasn’t.
She was here. Still.
She was still fucking here.
“Raelle.”
The blonde snapped to attention, the Bellweather’s voice strong yet oddly tinged with a care Raelle didn’t fully understand but made her both anxious and yearn for what she’d lost and maybe never truly had.
Petra eyed her, the late hour not showing on her regal face.
Stepping around her desk, the officer closed the distance between them and placed a hand on the blonde’s shoulder.
Raelle stiffened.
Then, she relaxed.
“What you’ve done is remarkable.” Petra spoke truthfully. Earnestly. “It truly is. And, I am forever grateful that you helped bring my daughter home.”
Bring Abigail home.
Abigail, who shouldn’t have even stayed behind with her.
Tongue dry, Raelle barely hid the feelings in her voice, “I didn’t do anything, ma’am.”
“You did.” Petra squeezed her shoulder and let go. She stepped back, “I also know that it was you that caused the bomb.”
Raelle’s eyes widened.
A small smirk, “Sarah might have her secrets, but this is one she doesn’t want to keep.” She lifted her chin, “And, to be candid, you should not be what she is about to make you be.”
“Ma’am?”
“You should have never been deployed to China.” Petra turned absolutely serious, a glimmer in her brown eyes that spoke of long held frustration, “I wanted you for an operation, but General Alder deployed you and your unit before I could get to you.” She’d been too busy trying to keep Abigail from being deployed to counter Alder’s move with Raelle.
Raelle frowned.
Her? For an operation?
“I don’t understand.”
“I’m offering you a choice, Raelle.” Petra shifted to her desk, peeking over at the door to the office, “You are in War College. You can stay there. Continue with your studies. Train with your Coven. Let Sarah and Izadora continue with whatever they have planned for you.” Her eyes slipped to Raelle’s, “Or, you can be transferred to my division. You will serve under me on active duty and help us with a mission that is…incredibly important.”
“I…you want me to help you with a mission? What mission?”
“The Camarilla are back.”
Ice slithered down Raelle’s back. Images of knives and blood flashed in her mind.
She felt hot and cold at the same time.
Like she couldn’t breathe.
“We need to find out who they are. Where they are. We need to find a way to stop them.” Petra’s gaze was hard. Relentless.
“You’re hunting the Camarilla?”
“We are gathering Intelligence and working to learn how we can beat them. Completely.” The low lamplight cast shadows across her face, “This is more important than anything the rest of the military is focused on right now. I know you understand this.”
She faced the Camarilla in China.
The Camarilla were the ones to attack the Tarim. To attack her friends. To attack her.
“Help me, Raelle.”
“Why me?”
She was a nobody. A nobody who could blow up.
“You’re half civilian. You know how to blend in. You know how to be one of them.” Petra spoke candidly, “You have shown yourself to be brave. Smart. Resourceful.”
There was something else, though. Raelle could tell.
Something Petra wasn’t telling her.
“Why would Alder let me work with you? If I’m suddenly so important?”
“Because she won’t know about it.” Petra responded. “If you accept, I’ll handle the rest.”
“Who would I be working with?”
A smile flickered on the General’s face.
Raelle didn’t understand until words floated to her ear from behind her.
“Private Collar. Good to see you did as I told you and came back. I clearly need more gray hair.”
Raelle whipped around at the familiar voice.
Anacostia stood in the doorway, head tilted and stoney faced smirk in place.
“Anacostia?” Anacostia was working with Petra?
“What do you think, Raelle?” Petra asked. “I’m sorry, but we don’t have much time. I need an answer now.”
Now?
War College and her friends or…this?
This…which she didn’t even know what this was.
But, if she stayed in War College, she’d be experimented on, right? A lab rat.
At least if she helped fight the Camarilla, it’d be worth something.
Her life might be worth something.
Since she shouldn’t even be alive.
“What’s the catch?”
Petra frowned.
Raelle stared, “What aren’t you telling me?”
The frown turned into a grin, “You might be cut out for this line of work, Collar.”
Raelle didn’t smile back.
“We’ve targeted someone else to work with you and Anacostia on this. She would be a great asset, but we think she might be more agreeable to cooperating if you were there, as well.”
Raelle’s stomach sank.
Raelle almost drowned when she was six years old.
She had wandered off when her dad was at work and her mama had gone somewhere far away where only letters and memories reminded Raelle of the beautiful blonde women with eyes like hers and a hand that made her feel better whether she cut up her knee climbing the tree on the Davidson’s property or had a bad dream that lingered long after her eyes popped open, and a gasp escaped her lips.
The river was swollen. Rapid. It had stormed the day before, and, mixed with all the melting snow that filled the streams and lakes farther north, the tiny creek was the size of the old highway no one drove on anymore. It was angry. Restless.
It looked like how Raelle felt sometimes when all she had were those memories and letters and an empty house.
The same way those feelings would consume her when she grew older, when the water took her in and covered her. Suffocated her. Dragged her down and down and tried to tear her apart.
Raelle almost drowned when she was six years old.
Looking back, maybe she should have.
Maybe she was always meant to die young. To succumb to the world that clawed and snarled like a wild animal.
Maybe it was the only way for her to get any sort of peace. Any rest.
Except, she wasn’t dead.
She should have died so many times.
But, she hadn’t.
Still, Raelle knew what it felt like. To almost die.
To almost drown.
And, staring at those blue eyes she would recognize anywhere, seeing those freckles her fingertips had traced numerous times, those pink lips that used to turn up when she was around…
Standing there, knowing Scylla was alive. Was not in prison.
Standing there and seeing Scylla Ramshorn like they were just two people. Two normal people. No uniforms. No medals. No training or drills.
Two kids who were adults.
Standing there, seeing each other, sharing the same space. The same air. The same world.
Raelle couldn’t breathe.
Her mind whirled. Shut down. Spun.
Thousands of thoughts rushed into her mind, yet none seemed to stick. It was empty. So full yet nothing could be felt. Heard. Realized.
She should be angry. Frustrated. Confused. Hurt.
She should yell. Fight. Turn away and hide her emotions. Hide the way that seeing Scylla made her react.
Yet, all she could do was stand there. And stare.
Because Scylla was there.
Scylla, whose eyes were pleading. Hoping. Wishing. Begging.
Who opened her mouth, but no words came out.
Leaned forward, closer, unconsciously trying to reach out yet holding back.
Raelle could see the way her jaw flickered. The way her hands quivered.
The cocky self-assured witch that smirked and seduced and snarked dropped away to reveal the broken longing in love woman underneath the mask the brunette wore around everyone else that wasn’t her lover.
Anacostia stood to the side. Quiet. Watchful. Mindful of what was happening but also searching for the path to do what she needed to do.
Why Raelle was brought in.
“Raelle,” Scylla finally breathed out. Unsteady. Full of all the emotions that hovered in her gaze.
Inhaling sharply, Raelle felt the voice, her name, slice into her ribs and dig into the flesh and bone. Into her blood.
Clenching her jaw, the blonde forced herself to not give in to what her soul screamed for.
She knew what was supposed to happen.
She knew who Anacostia was trying to get to work with her. To infiltrate. To break into.
To get the Spree operative to help the army against their common enemy.
The Spree operative who would be more likely to help if her ex-lover was the one asking her to.
Lifting her chin, the shattered ice in her gaze not fully covering the softness that Scylla brought out of her, Raelle curled her hands into fists at her side and jammed them into the pockets of the blue jeans she now got to wear, “Scylla.”
Scylla’s mouth quivered and she wet her lips.
“We don’t have much time.” Anacostia spoke up, eyeing them both but finally turning to fully stare at Scylla, “Are we a team or not?”
Scylla never looked away from Raelle.
“They took my mom from me.”
Raelle gulped back against the river water in her lungs gurgling up to fill her mouth and seep out of her lips, dribble down her chin to stain the growing hole sliced through her heart. She didn’t look at Scylla. At Anacostia.
She looked straight at Shane.
Met his eyes.
His interested welcoming eyes.
Eyes that sparked with delight.
With recognition.
Recognition of an anger he knew well.
An anger that Raelle held back so long.
“Witches took my mama from me. She died. She was killed.” Raelle rasped. Allowed the blackness that still painted the edges of her memories weave into her words. “The army. The Spree. They’re all the same. They killed her. Took her from a family that loved her. She didn’t want to go away, and they made her.”
She never looked away from Shane.
“They took everything from me. My mom. It nearly ruined my dad. They…they took my girlfriend from me.”
Scylla was Spree.
Spree.
And, the Army found out.
Grabbed her and lied to Raelle about it.
The Army…the Spree.
It was all lies.
Everyone out for themselves.
None of them could be trusted.
Not Alder, who willingly left her and Abigail behind, who took Tally as a biddy, who lied about Libba’s death.
Not the Spree, who killed innocent people. Who sent Scylla.
Raelle didn’t look at Anacostia. She didn’t look at Scylla.
She watched Shane’s eyes brighten with a sinister darkness and focused all the anger that had built and built inside.
Anger about her friends. About her Unit. About her family. About Scylla. About conscription and the Tarim and death and lies and life.
“They took the two people I loved the most from me.” Raelle clenched her fists.
“You’re not alone.” Bonny comforted while Shane smiled.
The rage hummed.
But, if anyone looked close, they’d know it wasn’t rage.
It was sadness.
The anger inside the blonde had morphed from the moment she first felt it, the first time she had to say goodbye to her mama, not knowing where she was being deployed to or how long she’d be gone, into a deep unabiding sadness that led Raelle to forming a hot garbage plan for when she joined the military.
A grief and brokenness that only started to heal when she met her unit and opened herself up to the thought of a pretty girl who she cared about and who might be the light in the storm.
A Unit she no longer was with and a girl who shattered her even more.
Raelle stood still as Bonny’s hand lightly touched her arm in sympathy.
She didn’t look at Scylla or Anacostia.
Raelle rolled her shoulders, a twinge in the right causing her to grimace slightly. Feet kicked out across the length of the bed, her back was pressed up against the wall behind her and her hands clasped in her lap.
She was so tired.
Yet, she knew she wouldn’t sleep.
Sniffing, she rubbed her knuckles across her nose and dragged her palm up the side of her face to run over the unbraided hair that was falling out of the ponytail she’d swept it up into that morning.
A voice in her head that sounded like her mom’s chided her for not getting it cut.
Snorting, Raelle closed her eyes and tilted her head back.
She wondered what her mom would think of her now.
She wondered what her friends were doing. If they were ok.
If Abigail got past not being the witchbomb.
If Tally still had nightmares about bugs and Alder.
If her Coven was ok.
If they were safe. Happy.
Anacostia wouldn’t tell her anything.
Of course.
Rolling her eyes as she opened them, a shuffling noise caught her attention. Turning her head, Raelle sighed.
Scylla stood in the doorway, mug in hand.
“Thought you might want a drink.” the brunette shrugged.
“Something stronger than tea, I hope?”
The edges of her mouth tilted, “Nothing Cession worthy, but I put in some extra sugar.”
“How sweet.”
It was Scylla’s turn to roll her eyes as she walked into the room and held out the mug.
Raelle carefully took it, their fingers not touching, and cradled it in her hands, “You’re still here.”
Scylla’s hand fell away to link with the other pale hand in front of her.
“I thought you’d be long gone. Back with the Spree. I bet they have a nicer place than this.” Raelle watched the liquid ripple gently.
Something sparked in Scylla’s eyes. On her face. Something Raelle didn’t understand and Scylla never explained, though it happened more than once. As if the other witch wanted to say something but held back.
Instead, Scylla said, “Bigger kitchen. Crown molding is ok. Nice flooring.” Her mouth ticked up higher, “No one as cute as you there, though.”
Raelle huffed a chuckle, “That why the Spree sent you? No one recruited who was cute enough for you?”
“No,” Scylla twisted her fingers together, “But it helped me fall in love with you.”
Raelle felt the familiar hand around her throat.
“I know you might never forgive me. I’m not asking you to.” Scylla took a breath. Gathered herself. “But, I’m not leaving you. I’m going to keep you safe. That’s all I care about.”
A humorless laugh bubbled up, bitter and remorseful, “Nowhere is safe.”
“I know a place.”
They both gulped at the familiar words.
“Is that place with the Spree? The house with the big kitchen and nice floors?”
“It’s wherever you want it to be.”
Raelle thought back to her house in the Cession. To her dorm back at War College.
To the desert in the Tarim Basin.
To the necro labs and Izadora’s office.
To the basement cell.
Being told Scylla was dead.
The blade cutting into her back. Through her body. The heat of her own blood on her hand.
Being told Scylla lied to her.
Being told her mama was dead.
Saying goodbye to her dad.
The lighthouse. The salva.
The Mycelium. Reaching out. Touching her.
Not dying. Not dying. Not dying.
“What if I don’t want it to be anywhere?”
Her friends. Her family.
Fighting with Abigail. Yelling at Tally.
Her dad crying after she took the oath.
Quinn at her mama’s funeral. Somber. Devastated.
Scylla’s scream as she walked away from that basement.
All the dead soldiers in China. Witches burning at the stake.
Porter.
Not dying. Not dying. Not dying.
“Then we can go anywhere. Runaway. Never look back.” Scylla offered.
“Dodger.”
Scylla took a deep breath, face settling into a serious heartfelt look, “I love you, Raelle. No matter what. I don’t expect anything from you. I want you to know…I will do anything to keep you safe. I will always be here for you. I will always choose you.”
“I should hate you.”
“I know.”
She should hate Scylla.
She should hate so much.
“I’m tired, Scyl.”
“I know.”
The clothes on her skin felt like a new body, an old body, like coming back to herself yet not being who she once was. The jeans were slightly baggy, slightly worn, slightly lived in and completely hers. The belt notched in the same old notch and the leather showed the age it had ever since it was handed to her on her birthday, a gift that was worth more than it seemed. Her shoes were comfortable. Sneakers she could easily climb a tree or wade through a creek in. Stroll through the Cession town square or run through the fields and paths that led far far away from the world that was full of words and worries to the natural realm her neighbors cherished above all else. Flannel and t-shirts and sweatshirts. Her fingers felt the phantom strings of her guitar and her teeth nibbled on the memory of cornbread and ice cream sundaes at the diner.
But there was an itch. A poking. Inside herself.
The clothes didn’t fit quite right.
They felt funny. Off. Wrong almost.
Same as the flesh and bone underneath.
The person who used to dress like this wasn’t who she was anymore.
She knew the taste of military rations and mess hall platters instead of the diner’s burgers and morning eggs. Her hands felt empty without the gloves she’d slip on or the weight of the scourge at her hip. The jacket wasn’t the one she slid her arms through each day. The shoes didn’t echo like the black boots had.
There was no guitar. No pop to welcome home at night. No tree climbing.
There weren’t drills, either. No officers ordering her around. No medal around her neck or tin of salva in her pocket.
Raelle almost huffed under her breath.
The half civilian half witch who was never meant to be anywhere. Neither one world or the other.
Alive or dead. Soldier or civilian.
Fixer or something else. Something that lurked in her veins. Ready to explode.
Because of emotions or the white wall that reached out to her, she couldn’t tell which one.
Sucking in her bottom lip, Raelle sniffed and sighed. The brunette entering the room paused, eyes locked in on the witch.
Raelle clenched her teeth.
Scylla was coming and going all the time. Didn’t stay with her and Anacostia. Went back to the Spree. Always looking like she knew something but wasn’t sharing.
Something that Raelle didn’t know about.
Same way she…she looked like she didn’t want to leave whenever she did.
“Hey.” Scylla spoke gently.
So gently.
Raelle lifted her chin in the semblance of a nod and let her hand fall away.
The tension in the air was palpable.
“What’s wrong?” Scylla stepped further into the room.
Raelle shook her head and scrubbed her eyes, pinched the bridge of her nose, “Nothing.”
Scylla’s look told her she didn’t believe that but wasn’t going to push. This time.
Exhaling, Raelle chewed on her lip.
She felt so damn restless.
The clothes felt weird, and the air smelled off.
Yet, she didn’t know where to go.
Back to her friends? Petra? Home?
Salem was home now. Supposedly.
And this power…this power hummed inside. Quiet. Low.
She could forget about it sometimes, but…other times…
She knew what happened in that desert.
And…
And there was Scylla, looking like the world Raelle would have chosen if given the chance.
“Raelle,” Scylla’s fingers dug into her pockets.
“What do I do…when the only woman I’ve ever truly loved…is a terrorist?” Raelle stared at the floor, still feeling Scylla’s flinch. “What does that say about me?”
“You know it’s not black and white. I won’t apologize for believing in freedom. In something better for us.”
“Is that why you keep going back to them?”
“Where else should I go?”
Raelle shrugged.
Scylla worried her bottom lip.
“I…” Raelle stubbed the toe of her shoe into the floor, “Anacostia won’t tell me anything about Tally or Abigail. Or anyone else.”
“I’m sure they’re ok.”
“Yeah…” Raelle swallowed.
Scylla moved closer, still mindful enough to keep a bit of distance, “I know you miss them.”
“I miss not being alone.”
“You’re not alone.” Scylla vowed, “You will always have them. They’ll always be your friends. And…and you’ll always have me.”
The only time Raelle ever drank wine was when her mama was home.
Her pop wasn’t a big wine drinker, and Raelle only snuck sips from what was left around the house. A can of beer here. A handle of whiskey there. She’d take a long pull until the fire scorched her throat too much and she coughed up the smoke and flames of a future where she’d have a flask hidden in her pack and raised a toast to friends long gone.
Wine wasn’t on the menu, though.
Her mom liked wine. Red, white, it didn’t matter much. Sweet or bitter. Fruity or like an old oak barrel full of all sorts of flavors. Sure, Raelle knew Willa likely had favorites, but, when it came to wine, she didn’t make a fuss. Accepted whatever glass her husband poured for her.
A woman trying to enjoy the little things in the small moments she was able to. Loving her husband for trying and tasting love instead of merlot.
After her mama died, there was never any wine in the house.
The last time a bottle was seen in the Collar home was the last dinner Willa was alive for.
Even at the Bellweather wedding, Raelle couldn’t bring herself to drink the stuff. Champagne and liquor mixed it up enough for her to get warm and loose.
So, of course, Bonnie would hand out glasses of wine.
Balancing the glass in her hand, Raelle tried not to think about the alcohol as the cheerful woman sat down.
She tried not to think about how Scylla was so close.
How they were supposed to be friends.
She should be impressed, marvel, at how well Scylla fit in. Played her part.
She didn’t always catch the glances Scylla sent her way. How Scylla’s hands shook. Her eyes dipped away, full of love and longing. Of pain and guilt and quivering shuddering sadness.
Sometimes, Raelle did catch those looks.
They matched what was in her own blue orbs.
Now, though, they sat in Bonny and Shane’s living room. Pretending to be happy. To be friendly.
To be people who lost loved ones to the Spree and hated all witches because of it.
Radicalized.
Raelle could see the irony in it all.
Scylla was Spree and nearly broke her.
It wasn’t hard to act like the Spree didn’t take something from her.
They took…they took the one thing Raelle craved, would die for.
The one thing that wasn’t even real.
It was, though.
It had to be.
It couldn’t hurt this much if it wasn’t.
“Can’t just hide in the basement until the witches stop fighting.” Anacostia spoke up, playing into what Shane was spouting off about. “We don’t even know who they are and aren’t anymore.”
Raelle blinked, the wine glass fragile in her grasp, words bitter and rancid in her mouth “Besides, we all know they’re liars anyways.”
Scylla stiffened imperceptibly in her chair.
“Yeah. Amelia…Parker, you get it.”
“I had to tell Brianna she can’t play with her friend Tiffany anymore.” Bonny jumped in. “They found out she’s a witch.”
Raelle felt cold.
“H-How?” Anacostia lowered her glass and leaned forward.
“Our friend said they had some kind of test.”
Raelle felt the other witches share a look, but she kept her eyes on their hosts, “Good.”
Shane’s lips twitched.
Raelle shrugged, “Spree are already hiding where we are. Attacking us. Letting us think we’re safe when we’re not. What next?” Her jaw ached, “They lie and get us to have kids with them? Make our daughters one of theirs?”
Shane’s eyes narrowed, and he pointed a finger at her, “You understand.”
The doorbell rang.
Raelle leaned back in her chair.
She barely heard what was said next.
She felt Scylla subtly shift closer to her.
Words rang in Raelle’s head.
Over and over.
Words she heard at basic.
Words she heard by civilians passing through the Cession, not knowing what community they were walking into. A community of dodgers and civilians and all sorts of folks just…living.
Words she heard from some dodgers.
Words. Words. Words.
A kid with a witch mom and civilian dad.
Even the nurses when she was born on base didn’t like the fact her dad wasn’t one of them.
Weak. Half breed. Wrong.
“I don’t know what we’d do if we wound up with a Tiffany.”
Bonny’s words shook the earth.
“I thought we agreed you two wouldn’t do anything stupid and get yourselves killed…again.” Anacostia glared at the younger witches, her brown orbs hardening on Raelle.
Raelle’s eyes narrowed and her hackles rose, “They’re after kids.”
Kids.
Little innocent kids.
Kids who had never done anything wrong. Who didn’t understand. Who were young.
Kids.
“It was our chance to go and find out what we needed to.” Scylla jumped in, “They are able to bastardize our work.”
“We knew that.” Anacostia sighed.
“They can also stop our Work from working. Counteract it.” Scylla spoke firmly, “They can detect who is a witch or not. They’re doing tests.”
Tests.
God damn tests.
Anacostia took this in, “How bad?”
“Bad.” Raelle ground out, her face still smarting from the bruise around her eye she’d gotten taken a punch meant for Scylla.
“Ok.” Anacostia nodded, “You two are going to be the death of me. Next time, wait for me.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Scylla saluted.
Anacostia rolled her eyes, half in amusement, half not, “Get cleaned up. Collar, put some ice on that shiner.”
“I’m fine.” Raelle grumbled.
“Ice. Now.”
“She’s right.” Scylla moved toward the kitchen, “There should be ice in the freezer.”
Raelle reluctantly followed, not even waiting until she was fully in the other room before spitting out, “What the hell was that, Scylla?”
“What was what?” Scylla opened the freezer door and plucked out a tray of ice cubes.
“You know what.”
Nimble fingers broke out a few pieces and snagged a dishtowel, “We did what we had to.”
“You just took off. Without waiting for me. Or Anacostia.”
“We couldn’t lose him.”
“He would have killed you.”
“I was fine.”
“The hell you were!” Raelle exploded as Scylla faced her, makeshift cure in hand, “You saw that car and jumped out. We didn’t have a plan. Or talk about it. You just went.”
“And we found him.” Scylla shoved the towel into Raelle’s hand, “We found out what we needed to.”
“No, you exposed yourself and nearly got your head beat in.”
“I’m not the one with the bruise on her face.”
“Because I got there in time!”
“I do things my way. We talked about this. If you don’t like it…”
“He was going to kill you, Scylla.” Raelle spat. “He was going to…and I was supposed to wait in the car?”
“I knew what I was doing.”
“You’re the one saying we need to have plans. You’re supposed to be the smart one. Not…not…”
“Not what? Putting myself in danger when I shouldn’t? Running head first into something that will kill me? Having a garbage fire of a plan to get myself blown up on the front lines?”
Raelle reared back.
Scylla stood her ground, “I did what I had to. You said it yourself. Kids, Raelle. Witches. They’re hunting them. Us.”
“You always do what you have to, don’t you?”
Scylla blinked, the underlying meaning clear.
She seduced Raelle because she had to.
“I’m not sorry that I tried to keep you safe. That I did what we had to. I took an opportunity that might never happen again.” She gulped, “I’m sorry I hurt you, Raelle.”
“You do whatever you want to, damn anyone else.” Raelle waved her hand, “Kill you, Scylla. He was going to kill you.”
“I’m sorry.”
Raelle tossed the towel on the counter, “If I hadn’t gotten there…if I was two seconds later…”
Raelle couldn’t breathe.
Was drowning.
Choking.
“We’ve both done this.” Scylla cut in. “I’m not the only one who has gone in without caring what happens. You’ve left me behind, too.”
Raelle closed her eyes.
“We haven’t been working together. Not really.” Scylla ventured closer. “We need to work together.” She stopped a heartbeat away from the fixer, “Can you trust me?”
Raelle froze.
The answer was instant.
No.
She shouldn’t trust Scylla.
Not after everything.
“I don’t know.”
The hurt was clear but quickly hidden, “I trust you. You might not trust me…as your lover…but…believe me when I say I don’t want to see you hurt. That you can…you and Anacostia can trust me.”
Raelle exhaled.
Scylla had shown she was willing to help.
She’d fought beside Raelle.
Looked out for her.
She had saved her…even when she wasn’t trying to.
“I do.”
“What?”
“I trust you.” Raelle shrugged, “I’ve always trusted you.”
“They’re not all like this.”
Raelle watched Scylla stop at the door, palm on the handle.
Clearing her throat, Raelle scratched at her knuckle, “Civilians. They’re not all like Shane. Or Bonny.”
“You’re talking about your dad.” Scylla faced her.
“He fell in love with a witch. Raised me where people didn’t give a damn about who my parents were.”
“Not everywhere is like that.” There were so many who hated witches. Hunted them. Burned them at the stake. Hung them. Murdered them. They weren’t free. Conscription was slavery. They were bound to serve and protect people who wouldn’t care if they died.
“No, but it doesn’t mean everyone is like them.” Raelle rubbed the red spot on the back of her hand, “My dad would like you. Hope you’d give him a chance to get you to like him back.”
She stood up and walked to her bedroom.
Raelle knew civilians could be evil. She’d seen enough in life to know witches could be just as bad. The Spree. The Army.
Clean hands were impossible to have in a dirty world.
But, she’d grown up with people who were nice. Civilian and witch.
She grew up in a household that was civilian and witch.
She was a civilian and a witch.
“I know.” Scylla’s whispered reply touched her ear as she reached the threshold.
Raelle sat on the front stoop of the house, the night air surrounding her.
It was calm. Peaceful. Pleasant.
She could almost see the stars if she squinted hard enough and leaned back just so.
She didn’t.
The small pocketknife drifted around the piece of wood.
Dipped and weaved. Let tiny flakes of wood fly into the grass lining the paved path leading to the sidewalk from her small spot. Her tongue pushed against the roof of her mouth as she whittled. Trimmed and carefully peeled back layer after layer until the soul of the tree this stick once belonged to was revealed for all to see.
Her hands moved softly. Carefully. Measured with each flick of her wrist.
It was a tender wood. Gave beneath her fingers with little more than a brush of the blade.
Her mind focused on the task. Started to wander but was pulled back in by the glimmer of the streetlights on the metal and the scruff of the stick against her thumb.
The sound of the front door shutting and the ripple of air around her barely registered.
“Do I even want to know where you got that knife from?” Anacostia settled down beside her on the step.
Raelle shrugged.
It didn’t really matter where she got it.
Just that she needed it.
Hadn’t been able to do this since leaving the Cession.
Since leaving her life.
Anacostia watched her for a few moments. Let the silence envelope them.
Raelle kept cutting.
Cut. Cut. Cut.
The words in her head dipped around like the flakes flying high.
Scylla.
Beautiful. Brilliant. Devastatingly heartbreaking Scylla.
Raelle didn’t know what to do.
Her heart and mind and soul…
She was in love and so damn scared.
She knew she should walk away. Not say one damn thing to Scylla.
She couldn’t do that, though.
Walking away from her…again…
Walking away once was hard enough.
Raelle wasn’t sure her body could do it again.
Things were hard.
Her friends were still at Salem. The Camarilla were getting stronger. The movement to kill witches deadlier.
Raelle felt like she wasn’t doing anything.
Not like she was ever meant to.
“You’re a good soldier, Collar.”
Raelle’s hand stilled.
Anacostia looked out at the street. Watched a car putter by.
“I know I was tough on you in basic. You came in with an attitude, and I knew you were stronger than you acted. I knew you could be ok if you gave the army a chance. I’d seen your type before. Saw your type get sent to the front lines and killed before they even knew they had a different choice.” Anacostia spoke steadily. “I also knew you could be great if you’d let the army be for you what it was for me.”
“What’s that?”
“A family.”
Raelle scoffed.
She had a family.
A mom and dad.
The blonde blinked and exhaled.
Now, she had her Unit. Her Coven.
Byron. Adil. Khalida.
She had Scylla.
Scylla.
Damn it.
“You’re a good kid, Raelle.” Anacostia went on. “I am incredibly proud of who you’ve become. You’ve shown how strong you are. You’ve shown yourself to be someone any soldier would be proud to serve with. Even more, you’ve shown yourself to be a good person. A good witch.”
Raelle gulped.
The hand was back around her throat. A lump forming beneath its touch.
“You let your emotions run wild sometimes. That sort of thing gets you in trouble in the army. Gets you hurt.” Anacostia finally looked at her, “It also made you someone others trust. It made you help people when others wouldn’t.”
“What’s your point?”
“I know it isn’t easy for you to be here. I know a lot happened…some things in China I don’t even know about. You don’t have to tell me. But…”
“But?”
“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but, we don’t all get second chances.”
Raelle frowned.
“You have someone who is willing to listen to you. Who loves you. Be careful, but, it’s not a weakness to be cared for or to care about someone else.”
“You mean Scylla.”
Anacostia gave her one hard look and stood up, “She’s not all bad. You told me that once.”
“And you let her go to follow and use.”
“Sometimes we get second chances. Sometimes others see something in someone. Can see they can change.” She turned, “Like I knew you could change.”
The door opened and closed.
Raelle stared at the stick.
The thing was…she wasn’t sure she wanted Scylla to change at all.
The thing was…Raelle was the one changing.
The thing was…the love Raelle felt never changed one damn bit.
She dug her knife back into the wood.
Cut. Cut. Cut.
A rock flung passed Raelle’s head, nicking her temple as she ducked and dove at Scylla, wrapping her arms around her and dragging her away from the agitated unruly crowd that pressed closer and closer.
The rally had turned into a nightmare.
Hands prodded at the wound the second they stumbled a few steps away. Scylla held the blonde’s face, studying the wound.
Anacostia had already left, and they needed to go.
Now.
“I’m fine.” Raelle batted at her hand.
“You’re hurt.” Scylla smudged a trail of blood with her thumb.
Raelle could feel the brunette wanted to fix her. Heal her.
She couldn’t.
Not without possibly blowing their cover.
“It’s ok. Just a scratch.”
“Dizzy? Headache?”
“No.”
Their eyes met.
Held.
You’re ok. Tell me you’re ok.
Scylla’s eyes were hypnotizing. An ocean Raelle could get lost in, drown in, and not mind at all.
The only place she ever wanted to lose herself fully and completely in, the only person she ever wanted to do so with.
Scylla’s touch was loving. Giving. Worried. Scared.
It was the touch of a lover.
“I’m ok, Scyl.”
“Ok…ok.” Scylla grabbed her hand, “Let’s go.”
Raelle fiddled with the crisp collar of her plain white button up shirt. The starched cotton jabbed at her neck in a way she hadn’t felt since she attended her grandma’s funeral as a little kid, washed up and in her finest clothes standing in front of a hole in the ground while being told the woman who used to smile at her and gently brush her unruly blonde fluff of hair out of her eyes as she whispered stories into her ear while the moon rose and the stars shimmered in the rundown dilapidated old cabin her father’s parents called home was now high up in the sky.
She could clearly remember that day. See everything if she closed her eyes and concentrated. Could smell the pungent nose wrinkling dirt that drifted one shovel load at a time onto the pine wood box deposited six feet underground. Could hear the sniffles and creak of cracked boots. Feel the cool spring breeze and taste the confusion and sadness that had coated her tongue since the moment her dad set down the phone, dog faced and eyes already turning red.
Raelle could remember every single second of the funeral.
Same as she could remember every single second of her mother’s funeral.
She didn’t wear a starched collar that day.
No.
She couldn’t.
Her dad didn’t make her, either.
Both were too caught up in their own grief to iron out the wrinkles and straighten the sleeves of their clothes.
The uniform the army shoved into the fixer’s hands the moment she stepped on base was supposed to be ironed. Supposed to have certain folds and creases.
No starch, though.
No collar that cut into her neck.
A rigid reminder to be on her best behavior.
Not like this.
The blonde almost chuckled to herself.
It wasn’t just a reminder to be on her best behavior.
It was a reminder that…
That there was a hand hanging loosely around her neck at all times. Slowly squeezing. Slowing choking. Invisible fingers stabbing like knives into her flesh. Into her airway. Clogging up her lungs and dripping, scaling, slicing down to her heart. Ripping open her chest whenever she caught a glimpse of emotional blue eyes that took a breakup and lifetime of lies to actually show that emotion.
Her slim calloused fingers tugged at the collar harder, wrenching it this way and that as she inhaled deeply, taking in as much air as she could and letting it out just as quickly. Her chest rose and fell, shoulders twitching and jaw flexing.
A pale freckled hand gingerly pressed against her own.
The entire world froze.
The hands around her neck tightened and a gulp caught in her throat.
“Stop.” Scylla’s voice was still so damn sweet it made Raelle’s head spin. “Let me help.”
Swallowing, Raelle dropped her hand from the collar, tongue darting out to wet her dry lips, “Anacostia say anything yet?”
Because of course Anacostia talked to Scylla and not her when they were out on a mission.
Those two were almost best friends now.
Not that she was upset Scylla had someone else watching her back. Supporting her.
It was…
Different.
Because Raelle always wanted that for Scylla. Always wanted her to have people.
Raelle wanted to be one of those chosen few who got to be by Scylla’s side. Even when Scylla pushed her away or didn’t open up.
What a world. The person who tried to keep them apart was now the person watching over them.
Keeping them safe.
Scylla paused for a beat before tenderly straightening the mussed collar, “No. We still have a few minutes.” Her gaze dipped up to Raelle’s face before going back to her work, “Relax, Raelle.”
The blonde bit back the sharp retort that lingered on her lips.
The same retort that nestled right next to the declaration of love, the beg for answers, and the shout of confusion and rage.
She could keep her mouth shut sometimes.
When it hurt more to talk than not to.
Sighing, Scylla pulled back, “Remember, we’re supposed to…”
“I know what we’re supposed to do.” Raelle cut in.
Scylla blinked and nodded; mouth snapping shut.
Exhaling, body so tense it could shatter like glass with one wrong move, Raelle’s eyes ignored her attempts to stare straight ahead out the car windshield at the pleasant peaceful neighborhood and swept over to the woman seated beside her.
Her heart thumped hard enough to make her hand instinctively want to press against her chest.
Scylla was beautiful.
Breathtakingly so.
Hair tied up to allow her elegant features to glow in the setting sunlight, the dress hugged her curves and accentuated her figure. Her eyes…
Her eyes were mesmerizing.
Those eyes were what caught Raelle like a net what felt like years ago. Tangled her up and never let her go.
Raelle would recognize those eyes anywhere.
She had.
“Raelle?”
Blinking, Raelle shook her head, “Sorry.”
“Are you ok?” Scylla asked.
“Yeah…just…you look beautiful.”
Pink ghosted across Scylla’s cheeks, “You don’t look too bad yourself.”
Raelle scoffed and tugged at her collar, “I look like a high atlantic.” Bells would be proud…and laughing her ass off.
“Stop.” Scylla grasped her fingers and led them away, “You look good, Raelle. Not a bad date for a Not Our Daughters’ party.”
“Yeah? You should see what I wear to a Camarilla one.”
“Break out a tie?”
“Even shine my shoes.”
“Very impressive.”
“If you think that’s impressive, wait until we go to a party in the Cession.”
“No shined shoes?”
“More dusty sneakers and flannel.”
“I…I’d like that.”
They shared a grin.
A grin that slowly faded as they realized what was happening.
Raelle cleared her throat and settled back in her seat, arms crossing over her belly.
It was the same old back and forth.
One second, she was cautious. Guarded. Unable to forget Scylla’s face as she confirmed that she used Raelle. That their relationship was because of orders from the Spree.
The next, she was forgetting the pain. Lost in blue eyes and a brilliant smile. Words flowed easily between them.
They always knew each other. Got each other.
Scylla understood her.
Raelle understood Scylla.
The connection, the spark, the tether, never left. Never fully broke.
They weren’t together…
But they were.
They were everything and nothing at the same time.
A kiss away from heartbreak. A word away from redemption. A look away from completion.
Suddenly, Scylla straightened in her chair.
Raelle knew the look.
Anacostia was talking to her.
A couple beats later, and Scylla was reaching for the door handle, “We’re good to go.”
“Great.” Raelle did her best to shrug off the moment and scrambled out of the car. She hustled around to the sidewalk, reaching it as Scylla stepped up, her coat pulled around her shoulders.
“Here…let me…” Raelle grabbed at the garment and smoothed it out.
“Thanks.”
“You’re welcome.”
Scylla took the opportunity to fix Raelle’s collar and pat down any wrinkles on the dark emerald waistcoat Anacostia had shown up with earlier that morning.
The necro’s hand was shaking.
“Scyl?”
The brunette pursed her lips, “They likely have the technology that makes it so we can’t use Work. You have your knife at your ankle. I know you can fight…Cession brawler. If anything happens…”
“Scyl,” Raelle grabbed her hand, “You’re the one who always goes and does whatever you want, not me.”
It was true.
Scylla was the one who went into that school by herself. Got caught up in the alleyway by herself. Showed up at the memorial by herself.
Who knew it wasn’t the brash fixer with a giant chip on her shoulder and attitude for days that was the one not always playing well with others and following the rules.
Scylla did things her way.
She also never let Raelle out of her sight when they were together.
“Please…stay safe.” Scylla pressed her lips together.
Raelle’s wrist flipped and her fingers twisted until their hands joined, “You, too.”
The urge to kiss her nudged the back of Raelle’s mind. Itched beneath her skin.
The way it had been doing longer than she’d admit to.
She ignored it.
With one last glance, Scylla marched down the sidewalk towards the house where their Not Our Daughter’s buddy Shane was waiting to escort them to the party. Kids danced around them as they walked, costumes and bags of candy flying by.
“Ever go trick or treating?” Raelle broke the silence, mentally pushing away the want that’d sprung up to press her lips to Scylla’s and taste the sweetness she remembered so vividly it could drive her crazy sometimes.
“No. We usually were moving or…we observed Samhain.”
“Yeah.” Raelle nodded, “We didn’t really…we lit a candle, but then mama and dad let me go out. We didn’t observe much of anything. Except candy and horror movies.”
Scylla’s face flinched, but she quickly covered it up, “You do look really good.”
“Only because you’re with me.” Raelle flashed a grin, “Might take that coat, though.”
She didn’t have one.
“Aren’t you supposed to be tough? Rough and tumble Cession soldier?”
“I don’t like the cold.”
Raelle got cold easily. Her giant coats from back home proved it.
“I remember.”
Before they could continue talking, their feet guided them to the paved path where a little girl and her mom stood waiting, fairy wings in place and enough energy that one piece of candy might cause an explosion.
A little girl…whose parents were likely teaching her to hate witches.
To secretly hate them.
Maybe not so secretly.
The place was nice. Really nice.
A great place for a group hellbent on genocide to have a swanky soiree at.
Raelle couldn’t help but look around. The candles. The shimmering gold. The elegant staircase and well-dressed people.
Abigail would fit right in.
Except for the murderous witch killer part.
Peeking to her side, Raelle blinked as Scylla attempted a wind strike.
Nothing happened.
“We can’t use any Work.” Scylla whispered as she adjusted her purse.
“Good thing I know you can throw a punch.” Raelle felt the collar jut into her throat again. She reached up to loosen it, but Scylla batted her hand away.
“Leave it alone.”
“It’s tight.”
“Relax.”
“I don’t belong here.” She wasn’t cut out for this type of party. This type of place.
“Good. It’d be difficult to explain to your friends why you suddenly became Camarilla.”
Raelle cut her a glare as they were approached by Shane, “Ladies…if tonight goes well, we’ll be set.”
Raelle hated him.
“These people, they’re on another level.”
Raelle felt Scylla step off to the side, but kept a pleasant look on her face as the man kept talking.
“The Camarilla. They take care of their own.”
The name sent ice down Raelle’s spine.
They were right.
The group was linked with the Camarilla.
And, they’d hit the jackpot that night.
“Investments funds, private schools, real estate. Plenty of cops and judges in their pocket.”
The hairs on the back of Raelle’s neck stood up. Something was really wrong. And not just because this man was saying things that should make her blood freeze.
Something wasn’t right.
The urge to hit him coiled in her belly.
The collar cut into her throat.
“Thanks for including us.” Scylla smiled her fake smile at him, all eager and a perfect liar.
“Too bad about Bonny. Trick or treating is fun, but this seems better.” Raelle chimed in.
“Bonny isn’t cut out for this. Too weak. You, ladies, you seem like you’ll do what it takes.
Raelle grinned, “Let ‘em burn.”
“I’ve got a lighter.” Scylla added.
Shane smiled gleefully and walked away into the party.
Scylla and Raelle stood there for a moment.
They were entering the lions’ den.
Hands linked, they squared their shoulders.
Raelle stole a tiny peek at the other girl.
Scylla looked absolutely stunning.
The breath, the single breath, left in Raelle, flitted away. Disappeared. Was drawn out of her by the way Scylla glimmered in the chandelier light like a goddess. A goddess Raelle would have gladly worshiped given a chance.
She really did love her.
If she wanted to, she could pretend this was different. They were different. On a real date. Some fancy gathering. Maybe they snuck in. Stole away in the night to sneak sips of champagne and giggle about the other party goers. Tipsily trot around the dance floor. Spinning. Swaying. Fall into each other’s arms.
Pretend they weren’t witches. One a soldier. One Spree. They weren’t surrounded by people who hated their kind. Weren't on a secret mission, Anacostia on standby, waiting to help, if needed. Waiting to get news. Intelligence.
Pretend they weren’t…something and nothing and everything in between. Half broken and half stitched together in such a haphazard way it might as well have been done by shaky hands and thin thread that was barely able to handle the weight of a declaration filled with affection and undying romance let alone the weight of a relationship neither thought they could have.
Pretend they weren’t…them.
If Raelle wanted to, she could pull Scylla close. Hold her tight. Whisper that it still hurt. That it might always hurt. That she was scared. Nervous. That she wanted Scylla. Needed her. That she didn’t know what life would be like without her now that she got her back. That it wasn’t a life she wanted. That she didn’t know if Scylla was there with her or not. That the world would let them have this one simple thing. That her head was a mess and she felt like there was no air left to breathe, that she was lost in the churning waters of the world, but…but…Scylla was always the hand held out that she wanted to grab, to guide her back to the sunlight and the stars.
That Raelle would give her anything. Her home. Her family. Her life.
That Raelle should be dead.
That her reason to live was a pretty girl with a gorgeous smile who loved the ocean.
That…
That Raelle didn’t know if she could ever say any of that.
Because sometimes she was angry. Rageful. Sad. So damn sad.
And, it was all pretend anyway.
So, what did it matter?
Pretending never did anyone any good.
The two witches stood there, spines straight, and eyes focused on the masked people.
The Camarilla.
Raelle wanted to kiss her.
“Be safe.”
With a quick wordless squeeze of fingers, they headed inside.
“She should be able to grow up away from this.” Raelle chimed in.
Anacostia and Scylla quieted, the debate on who Tiffany should go to silencing at the interjection.
Raelle hunched her shoulders and dragged the toe of her shoe along a short line in the dirt, the wind ruffling her hair and caressing her face.
Like it used to in the Cession.
Letting her blue gaze take in the surrounding field and road with the car where Tiffany waited patiently yet curiously, Raelle wet her lips and spoke, “She shouldn’t have to see what we’ve seen. She already lost her parents. Dodgers can give her a community.”
Scylla stared at her. Grateful. Thoughtful. Tender.
Anacostia’s eyebrows furrowed, “Collar, the Army…”
“I’ve seen them.” Raelle lifted a shoulder and rubbed at her thigh, “The Dodgers…she can go to the Cession. She won’t be bothered there. Can have a life. Not have to see anymore death for a while.” A morbid smile tugged at her lips, “She’ll see enough of that when she gets older.”
“The Army can give her a home.” Anacostia ventured. “I know you understand what I mean.”
She did.
The army had given her a place. A family, in some ways. Tally. Abigail. Byron. Glory. Others.
Raelle tilted her head.
Caught Scylla’s eyes.
“Cession is nice in the winter. Cold, but the land looks like nothing else you’ve ever seen right after that first snowfall. People are good. It’s where my mama and pop raised me. Collars have been there since before it was the Cession.” The corner of her lips twitched, and she peered over at Anacostia, “We’re all soldiers the second we step foot at Salem.”
With a shrug, Raelle slipped away from the other two. Let them go back to arguing over it.
She’d said what she needed to.
The army might take care of kids, of those who lost their parents, but this…
She knew what it was like to grow up surrounded by Dodgers.
She’d seen what growing up around the army did to a person.
Tiffany should be able to grow up like her parents wanted her to.
Hearing the crunch of boots and the slam of a car door, Raelle looked over.
And frowned.
Anacostia was slumped back in the car, and Scylla was walking towards her with Tiffany.
Raelle swung a foot back, steadying her stance, “What’s going on?”
“We’re going to get ice cream.” Scylla’s smile wobbled, “Anacostia is tired. Decided to take a nap.”
Raelle tried to not tense up.
Scylla moved closer, voice lowering, “Come with us.”
It was clear as day at that moment.
What was happening.
What Scylla was asking her to do.
God, Raelle wanted to say yes.
In that one moment, one breath, she wanted to give in.
Run away.
“Scyl,”
“Please.” Scylla was close enough Raelle could smell the lingering perfume on her skin, “Come with us, Raelle.”
Time stood still.
Go with them.
Leave.
Not look back.
“I can’t.”
Scylla’s face fell.
“They’ll look for me,” and find Scylla, “and…my friends…Anacostia…I can’t.”
Scylla nodded strickenly.
“I…” Raelle inhaled deeply, “might take a nap, too.”
Scylla’s eyes widened, “Raelle.”
“Been tired for a while. Might be nice to sleep.”
Scylla started to shake her head but stopped.
She knew what was happening.
What needed to happen.
The brunette still tried one last time, though, “Please.”
“If you ever go to the Cession…visit my dad. You’d like him. He’s good with kids, too.”
Scylla opened her lips, words stuck to the roof of her mouth, the same words she’d hesitated in saying ever since she first saw Raelle dressed in civilian clothes, standing with Anacostia.
Words Raelle didn’t know and Scylla always swallowed back right before they were set free.
The fixer offered an exhausted wry twist of her mouth.
Scylla’s chin quivered.
Raelle’s eyes burned and her throat clenched.
There was one more thing.
Scylla’s eyes revealed she knew it, too.
Anacostia had been able to find out where the Spree were from Scylla.
From Scylla’s mind.
If it came down to it, and Alder wanted information, she wouldn’t hesitate.
“Last thing I remember is standing over there, listening to you two talk.” Raelle gulped, “Thinking about how pretty you were at that Camarilla party.”
Wet eyes held Raelle’s as a shaky hand touched her face.
“Remembering how you were the last thought I had in China before I died.”
Raelle stood tall, face set, stance sturdy, and heart anything but.
She didn’t know where Scylla was.
Or Tiffany.
She didn’t know what happened, precisely.
Except.
Except that they were both gone, and her and Anacostia were back on base.
Listening to General Alder tear into Petra with a fire and vigor that spoke of something much deeper than an officer conducting a secret mission.
Unseen hand curling around her neck, fingers dragging across her trachea, water filling her lungs and flooding her belly, Raelle focused on one spot on the wall and never looked away. Let the General’s voice wash over her as the situation grew worse and worse.
Let her heart pound and sink into the murky depths of choking river rapids.
It was clear. Right in front of her eyes. Obvious.
Scylla left.
Took the kid.
Was likely back with the Spree. Maybe halfway to a new mission.
Raelle knew she hadn’t been caught by the military. By the Camarilla.
Scylla was too smart for that.
Hell, she’d only been caught because of Raelle.
She wouldn’t make the same mistake twice.
A tiny voice in the back of Raelle’s mind goaded her. Twisted the unseen knife in her chest harder. Viciously.
She could almost feel the blood spurt out. Cover her uniform. Drip down her front to stain her clothes. Her hand. Coat her tongue. Pool in her mouth.
Scylla left again.
Never truly wanted her.
It was all a lie.
Scylla used her again. Used Anacostia, too. The whole military.
Another Spree win.
Except.
Except Raelle knew that wasn’t right.
Scylla couldn’t have lied like that to her again.
Her chest hurt so much because…because she trusted Scylla. Still.
She only wanted to know she was ok. Safe.
That her and Tiffany made it wherever they were going.
That Scylla would never have to be like her. Standing in front of Alder. Wondering what would happen.
Not like Raelle, not caring as long as the person she loved had gotten away.
Raelle loved her.
Always would.
She loved her when they danced during the wedding and when Scylla confirmed she was Spree. She loved her when she lay dying in the Tarim Basin and the first time their eyes met after Raelle joined the mission.
Raelle couldn’t imagine ever not being in love with Scylla Ramshorn.
She might never see her again. Might get tossed back on the front lines. Demoted somehow. Kicked out of War College. Locked up.
She might be sent to Izadora to be experimented on.
Might get her wish to see if she can finally join her mother and grandmother in the sky.
Either way, at that moment, Raelle didn’t care what Alder tried to do.
So long as Scylla and Tiffany were far away from it.
“Collar.”
Raelle didn’t move as Alder stepped up to her. Didn’t flinch. Barely even breathed.
She didn’t give a damn what the general did to her. Never really had.
She wasn’t afraid of Sarah Alder.
There were other monsters that haunted her dreams.
“Get back to your Coven. Now. You’ll report to your classes as you should have been this entire time. Your Coven Leader will report directly to me if you miss one moment of your scheduled activities.” Alder leaned closer, “I will personally oversee your visits with Izadora, since, it seems, she was not entirely transparent on her work with you.” Straightening, she was like a rock, “Dismissed, Private.”