Ruban bit back a yawn, his fingers crawling haltingly over the squeaky keyboard. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Faiz slouched at his desk, his head drooping forward.

On any other day of the week, Ruban would have yelled at him for being lethargic. But this was a Wednesday. And Wednesdays were different.

Ruban rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands, trying to get them to focus on his screen. The report, due in less than two days, swam in and out of his vision, determined to give him a headache.

Across the room, Dai grumbled under his breath, hidden behind the teetering stack of folders piled high on his desk.

Barring emergencies, Wednesdays at the Hunter Quarters were set aside for paperwork – filing reports, updating inventories, reviewing interview transcripts, and various other types of drudgery. Ruban would have sold a kidney to be allowed a bit of field work just then.

Kitty, Hema’s oversized gray cat, butted her head against his calf and meowed aggressively. Ruban jerked, yanked rudely from his pleasant trance. Disoriented, he looked around the office. Hema’s desk was empty.

Planting his hands on his own desk, he pushed himself to his feet. Hema was probably down in the archives. And she’d apparently dragged Simani down with her. Ruban didn’t envy his partner. Hema was the only one of them who actually enjoyed paperwork. The other Hunters regarded her enthusiasm for it with a healthy mixture of awe and abhorrence.

Kitty pawed at his leg and growled.

Cat food. He needed cat food. Where on earth was Rinku when one needed her?

With a sigh, Ruban dragged himself to the kitchen, trying to avoid stepping on Kitty’s tail as she circled him excitedly.

Sellout. She only ever paid him any heed when she needed him to feed her.

Stepping into the tiny kitchen, he reached for the jar of dry cat food on the top shelf of the cupboard.

His fingers closed around the glass container. The ground shook below him. A deafening blast reverberated through the building, overwhelming his senses. The jar of dried tuna treats slipped from his fingers and shattered. With a terrified squawk, Kitty disappeared under the sink, her tail bushy.

Ruban grabbed the cabinet frame to steady himself, his free hand reaching for the sifblade at his belt.

The next few minutes were a flurry of smoke, blades, and bullets. The front wall – and part of the roof – had been blown to smithereens. Jagged pieces of metal and glass littered the floor where the front door once stood. The white reception desk was splattered with blood.

As Ruban fended off an Aeriel and two human assailants, he took a moment to be thankful that Rinku hadn’t been at her desk when the onslaught began. Behind him, Faiz and Dai were fighting back to back, surrounded by half a dozen armed men and an Aeriel.

Ruban recognized some of the men as members of the Qawirsin. The IAW maintained files on many of them. Neither of the two Aeriels were X-class, which perhaps explained why much of the building was still standing.

He dodged an energy shell and used that momentum to propel himself to the other side of the room. Once out of the Aeriel’s line of sight, he took aim and pitched two sifkren at its wings, one after the other.

A shrill, inhuman scream rent the air, and the creature collapsed.

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One of the two men attacking Ruban shrieked and ran. White-faced and wide-eyed, the other one began shooting at him, his fingers shaky and aim imprecise.

A shot rang out from somewhere further inside the Quarter. Moments later, the jittery young man was on the floor, a bullet hole in his chest and his t-shirt stained with blood.

Simani stood at the top of the staircase, her pistol held aloft.

At the sound of wings flapping, Ruban whirled. Just beyond the destroyed front wall, a third Aeriel floated inches above the ground. Ruban tightened his grip on the sifblade and raised it to his chest, ready to attack.

Behind him, the sounds of desks toppling and electronics crashing to the floor told him that Hema and Simani had joined the fray.

Seconds later, the new Aeriel was upon him and all other thoughts fled Ruban’s mind. They should’ve been better prepared, but no Aeriel had ever dared attack a Hunter Quarter before. Even in the months after Tauheen’s return, such things were unheard of.

As he dodged and parried the Aeriel’s attacks, Ruban caught Hema’s eye and signaled wordlessly, ordering her to call for backup.

The next moment, he found himself slammed into a concrete pillar. Pain flared in the back of his head. Instinctively, he took a swipe with his sifblade.

A sharp, aborted cry. Then, light spilled forth from the Aeriel’s lacerated abdomen.

A vicious strike to the side of his head made Ruban’s vision swim, his grip on consciousness slipping. Once again, the Aeriel slammed him into the pillar. He blinked, the pain dragging him out of the stupor he’d been sinking into.

“Tell your bosses at the IAW,” the Aeriel growled, its lips inches from Ruban’s ear. “The Hunter Corps is digging its own grave by antagonizing Qawirsin. The days of the IAW’s hegemony over the feather market are gone. This is a new era. And unless it wants more death and mayhem, the IAW would do well to learn how to share.”

So close to the Aeriel, two things struck Ruban at once. One, he’d never heard an Aeriel talk like that. And second, he had seen this one before.

How had it taken him so long to recognize it? Her?

Kaheen.

That’s what Ashwin had called the Aeriel that’d killed four Hunters right before his eyes, less than a fortnight ago.

Kaheen leaned further into his space, still talking. But not like any Aeriel he’d ever heard before.

Aeriels tended to be grandiose and dramatic; or alternatively, terse and dismissive. But they were never so…practical. So grounded.

Aeriels spoke of dominion and conquest and glory. Even the ones he’d met in Vaan, even Ashwin, tended to think more along the lines of art and aesthetics. They didn’t talk about market hegemonies and trade conflicts between government agencies and the underworld.

“I take it this is a message from Janak Nath,” he choked out, trying to free himself from Kaheen’s punishing hold.

“Not a message. A warning.” Dark amusement colored the Aeriel’s voice. “Consider this payback for that ambush out in the fields.”

Ruban grinned, ignoring the pain flaring at the base of his skull. “Janak Nath believes he can intimidate the IAW into a compromise? Whatever he’s smoking, it’s worth its weight in gold.”

Kaheen’s fingers tightened around his neck. “How hard can it be? Those lying, hypocritical cowards threw him and Ashfaq to the wolves for letting an Aeriel escape, even unintentionally. And now they’re working with Aeriels themselves. What’s the going rate for an IAW official these days?”

Ruban gasped, his lungs burning. “What’re you talking about?”

“Don’t play dumb with me.” Kaheen winced, clasping a hand over the wound in her gut. “I suppose I should’ve known. You killed Tauheen. And my mother. There had to be something to you. You couldn’t be ordinary.”

“Your mother?” he frowned. “You mean, Tauheen was–”

“Not her. Reivaa. Although, I guess you already know that.” Her lips twisted into the mockery of a smile. “You’ve got the prince wrapped around your little finger, after all. How did you get him to do it? Put his own life at risk to lay a trap for the mafia, on behalf of the Hunter Corps? I thought Vaan had a policy of non-interference. Isn’t that why they locked us out? So why’re they getting involved now, after all this time? Has the IAW made a deal with Vaan? With Safaa?”

“A deal with–” Ruban wheezed, not enough air in his lungs to form a proper laugh. “You think the IAW has dealings with the queen of Vaan? You’re even more deluded than Janak–”

“Kitty! Stop!”

With a terrified squawk, the gray cat shot out of the kitchen and sprinted across the derelict hallway. Rinku, disheveled and wild-eyed, ran out after her.

The sizzle of gathering energy wrenched Ruban’s attention back to Kaheen.

“No!” He tackled her.

But it was too late. A flick of her wrist, and the pearly shell streaked through the air, heading straight for the petrified Rinku.

Someone leapt forward. The shell detonated with a deafening roar.

Through the dust, smoke, and debris, Ruban saw Dai lying at Rinku’s feet, his clothes charred and blood-soaked.