Vicki Pettersson - Cheat the Grave

He didn’t pretend not to know what I was asking. Instead he smiled so broadly, teeth blinding against his honeyed skin, that I was momentarily startled. Could the leader of an underground rogue cell, with a past tailored to bitterness, really be so guileless? Even as I had the thought, he spread his arms, as if inviting me inside. “First, let me introduce you to your fellow grays.

“You know Tripp from before, and you’ve already met Milo and Fletcher.” Carlos strode to the center of the room like a lion tamer in a cage. “To their right are Alex and Oliver. On the other side we have Gareth, Roland, and Vincent.”

“Not Vinnie,” the last man said, in a voice that screamed old school Bronx. I let my gaze pass over him with disinterest before landing on Roland. The collector. He looked at me like I was the one who blew up Marge.

I looked back. “Met your girlfriend outside.”

Oliver snickered from the other side of the room, and when Roland’s gaze returned to me, it was as narrow as not-Vinnie’s had been. “Pretty, ain’t she?”

“I think you make a beautiful couple.”

Carlos cleared his throat, a too-bright smile widening his face. Well, what did he want? Pom-poms and a spirit song for waking up in a nuclear crater with a bunch of leukemia breeding trash? Not that it mattered to the non humans in the group, I thought wryly.

“There are currently four more of us,” he said, “but they’ve gone on a recruiting trip to Salt Lake.”

I nodded to indicate I’d heard, but took my time looking not-Vinnie over, then did the same with each man in turn. Alex was obviously Mexican, like Carlos, though shorter and rounder. Oliver’s genetic background was indistinguishable, probably some Americanized bastardization of British and German and Irish. Roland was as black as Io, while his tablemate was what one would expect from a not-Vinnie from the Bronx. I paused on Gareth, who was lanky, not even into adulthood, and sported spiky dishwater blond hair that reminded me of a rooster’s comb. I’d wager he was less than a handful of years past his second life cycle. Obviously used to the speculation about his age, and sensitive about it, he thrust out his chin and took a menacing step forward. I ignored the implicit challenge and studied each face again. Interesting.

Carlos anticipated my question as I turned my gaze back upon him. “There are no female rogues in the cell. The nature of a matriarchal world means women are the first and most targeted of us. When a female rogue is discovered, both Shadow and Light dispatch as many agents as it takes to destroy her. We lose them as quickly as we gain them, so you’re the only one.”

“Um, I hate to bring up the obvious-” Wasn’t joining the cell going to make me even more of a paranormal pariah than before?

“You’re already targeted,” Carlos interrupted, with less concern than I’d have liked. “You already know the history of the struggle between rogues and agents in this valley. You know the laws as laid down by the ruling troops, and the dangers we face as independents. We’ve also given you some of the tools to survive those dangers, and trust me, they’ll come to good use.”

“When?” I asked warily, not entirely sure I wanted to know.

“When we overthrow the current regime of Shadow and Light, of course,” Gareth snapped, still stinging from my earlier observation.

I’d have told him to chill, except his words stalled me cold. “Overthrow?”

Carlos cleared his throat, then ducked his head as he shot me that beautiful, and now sheepish, smile. “That is the purpose of the cell. By unifying the independent agents into a third, larger troop, we will wage our battle for the right to live aboveground. We will fight for the right to live as we choose. And this emerging troop, Joanna Archer,” he said grandly, gesturing at the ragtag men again, “is your army.”

My eyes went almost as wide as Io’s, and I waited for someone to laugh. Roland and Gareth only scowled more deeply. I sighed. Well, of course they were an army. What else could they be?

“Surely you’re joking.” I had swallowed a worm because Carlos promised to stave off Mackie’s attacks if I’d keep an open mind. But an open mind to what? Leading my own troop against those I used to count as allies? In my mortal flesh?

“You’re right. There aren’t enough of us yet. Only fourteen with you,” he said, shrugging as I opened my mouth to protest. That wasn’t what I meant. “But once we open the threshold to Midheaven and free the others from their bondage, we’ll outnumber both of the existing troops, two to one. Maybe more.”

My mouth stayed open. Holy shit. An entire army of rogues. “What about individual star signs?”

In the existing troops there was only one agent for each sign of the Zodiac, twenty-four in total between both sides. Rights to the star sign were guarded fiercely, passed down through the mother’s lineage.

“Fletcher and Milo are both Pisces.”

I glanced at the two men, sharing a bench and alcove. A meal of meat and beans. From the way they touched, lightly and comfortably at the knees, probably also a bed.

I crossed my arms. “Okay, so what about Warren’s lock?”

He’d placed it over the entrance to Midheaven as soon as Hunter crossed over. Though Mackie and Tripp had since escaped, I knew there’d be another barring the entrance by now.

Carlos shrugged. “We’ll break it again.”

Because he was no longer worried about the valley’s agents knowing what they were up to. Building an army.

“Don’t worry,” Alex said, misinterpreting my silence. He lacked Carlos’s discernible accent. “Between the defenses we can offer you and the weaponry left to you by your mother, you’ll be well protected while in this world.”

While in this… “My mother?” My head jerked up and I swallowed hard.

“Why, yes.” Carlos glanced at Io, whom I now realized was more of a den mother than a ward mother. “The treasure chest. Didn’t Io tell you?”

Io held her hands in front of her, an uncharacteristically defensive motion. “She didn’t even know I could feel the past living within her.”

“She’s disconnected,” Tripp said. I couldn’t tell if it was accusation or excuse.

“Bet she never even knew she possessed a sixth sense!” Fletcher dragged from a long-necked bottle.

Milo hit his leg. “That’s not the problem. I told you. She’s chased death before. She has a taste for it now. She’d rather die than live.”

Carlos held up a hand, halting the discussion. I took the opportunity to jump into the fray, ignoring the comments of men who’d never known me. “Let’s go back to the part about my mother.”

“She’s the one who set it up so we could find you. Told us where you’d show up, when, and to leave the weapons until you found them. Once she learned of Mackie, she knew she could no longer protect you on her own. She’s never involved us in her affairs to this extent before, so she must realize it’s time.”

My mother had left me weaponry. I was willing to bet she’d left me the warning note on the day of Suzanne’s bachelorette party too. She’d also created Skamar to rival the Tulpa in power. Before that, she had taught me to make a fist. I shook my head as all this new knowledge flooded it. “Time for what?”

“The Shadow to bind with the Light.”

The fifth sign. I’d stumbled right into the portent…just by trying to avoid it.

And Zoe had known what happened to me too! How could she not, when she knew all this? That I’d given up my powers as she once had, the pain and struggle in that…and how Warren had left me in the world, alone. Yet she remained hidden, waging a solo war on the Tulpa, her sole obsession and care. I mattered…but only if I could help her with that goal.