The last thing Ava wanted to see tonight was an eviction notice on her door, but there it was. She had left for just half an hour, but her landlord had seemingly taken his chances to put it up. Rent. God. It was something she’d never had to pay for before, because when your father made millions in the span of days, then thousands meant nothing. Not now, though. Now it meant having a home or being out on the streets with a target on her back. This place wasn’t secure. Every creak in the night and echoing shout down the hallway would make her tense and flinch. This entire building was a hazard to her health simply because of the black tufts of mold on the ceiling, and the rats that would scurry around her bedroom and chew holes right through her tights, socks, shirts and shoes.

It was a miracle that she hadn’t tripped because of a missing step and snapped her neck. Not that it would matter. Her soul had been sold long before she could even spell her own name.

So, like much of her life, it was in the hands of someone else. Just like her empire. Just like my father’s empire. And now, just like her housing situation. Ava wanted to be angry, to be bitter.

All she could muster was enough energy to rip off the sheet of paper, ball it, and stuff it inside her coat pocket as she entered the tiny space. A living room connected to an open kitchen with a single window for ventilation. A bathroom down the hall spewing smells and sounds she would much rather never come across in her life, and a bedroom with steel stuffed inside the mattress and lilting yellow wallpaper reaching toward her like grubby hands. She hated this place, hated it more than anything. Just a month ago, she slept in a bed large enough to fill half the living room, and now she slept on the couch, because she preferred the rats over those damned bed bugs. It really was all she could afford, imagine that. Unbeknown to Ava, there had been a housing crisis for decades in Lower Olympus because of all the superhumans going around destroying them.

And the few Superhumans residing in them would either kill or threaten tenants to leave.

Ava could do neither, so she was here in a space that would have fit snugly in the villa that her father used to house guests sometimes, grabbing lukewarm beer from a rattling fridge and pulling on a small lamp sitting on the kitchen table to turn on the flickering little bulb. She sat with a grunt, kicked off her shoes underneath the table. Then off went the glasses, her tie, her cufflinks and then the buttons of her shirt, one after the other until she could comfortably reach behind her back and unclasp her bra. Ava sighed, leaned back in her rickety chair, took a swig of the damned cheap beer, and…did nothing. Just stared. Just sat. Just breathed and drank the minutes away. She had plans, a strategy. It was all laid out on the table in front of her in elaborate diagrams annotated down to the centimeter and millisecond, folders worth of information on dozens of people, and don’t forget the cardboard boxes full of cassette tapes brimming with incriminating evidence.

In anyone else’s hands, it would be worth millions. Gems the color of old, yellowed paper.

It didn’t really matter to her now, she’d fucking blown it.

All because you wanted to be like daddy, she thought. God, fucking pathetic.

The sound of a liquid tapping against the floor echoed through the apartment. The place was tiny and old, with thin walls and thinner protection against the breeze that slid through cracks. But sounds like that resonated. It wouldn’t be the sink; she hadn’t paid the water bill. That meant…

“You’re home earlier than I thought you’d be,” Specter said, flickering in and out of view, her white hood draped low over her face and that horrible, festering wound in her chest leaking all over the already filthy floor, stinking of rot. Ava only caught a glimpse of Specter as she stood somewhere off to her right, just about in the corona of the weak lamp. “Unsuccessful, then?”

“Who would have thought that nobody wants to do business when you’ve got nothing to offer them in return other than your name and some sheets of paper that means nothing to them?”

“Information,” she whispered, her voice ethereal, harrowing. “You possess plenty of it.”

“Worthless to the people who would see me,” Ava muttered. She knew names, knew places, knew stashes and knew entire family histories. Hell, she even knew who the Daughter of Zeus was.

The person she had told that very secret to just a few days ago had beaten her face in and said to keep her mouth shut if she didn’t want to get left in a ditch again and again. It turned out that the lower-level street gangs didn’t want anything at all to do with Olympia. They feared her. No, Ava figured that a better way to put it was that they hated her so deeply that they had no other option than to stay clear of her. So what if they knew where her lover lived, or her mother and friends resided? Rylee would kill them the moment they even stepped onto any of their front yards. She would hurt them, wipe them out in just a day, crushing decades worth of gang wars, truths and lies and the webs of warfare all in one afternoon, all whilst she quipped about how weak they were.

That information was only useful to the powerful, but the powerful had narrowed down to one man—-one monster: Caesar, and Ava wasn’t going to shake that man’s hand, not for billions.

“I saw the rent notice.”

Ava took another sip, slowly warming up to it. “Third one this week, yes. You know, I used to have someone who counted my money for me and kept things in order. He was a dog, too.”

“Sounds interesting.”

She raised the bottle to that. “It was, until he disappeared. Fucking Kaiju,” Ava muttered.

Specter said nothing, just flickered in and out of eyesight.

“Where are the others?” she asked, her elbow on the table as she tried to gather her thoughts. Ava hadn’t given up yet. Lower Olympus still needed someone at its helm, and Caesar being there would mean she would either be forced to leave for good, or be gouged apart every day like Prometheus chained to his stone. “We still have things to discuss about our plans this week.”

The hooded shadow said nothing. Ava looked up from the documents she was blarily staring at, waiting for a response. Any other day, and she would have threatened her. Now she just waited, because she frankly didn’t have anything to use against her. Specter had been important once. A threat. A story that her father used to tell her about before bedtime, or her mother would use when she wouldn’t eat her vegetables. An assassin. A murderer. Supposedly a mother who Awakened far too late in life in such a violent manner that it ripped her halfway out of reality. A girl who was murdered by her boyfriend, left to step in and out of purgatory forever. It didn’t matter. She was cheap, more of a freak show than a good right hand now. No good in a fight anymore. Only good for gathering information when the talisman she was connected to wasn’t too far away.

It meant that, in all honesty, she was useless. Specter never told a soul where her talisman was hidden, because she knew she’d just be used—whatever good that would be. The House of One had its secrets, and she was one of them. The only reason she agreed to be here was because Ava allowed her to use her body on occasion, being that, despite the gaping wound in her chest, she wouldn’t die. Was it worth it? Ava didn’t really know anymore. They hadn’t done it in weeks. It left her feeling naked, touched. Olympia may have ripped her in two and spilled more than just her blood, but Christ, her mind being filled with the thoughts and memories of someone else was like having her brain scooped out with a rusted spork. But, in fairness, Specter was still here with her.

Considering that nobody else was. O’Reiley, that bastard, didn’t count. Shouldn’t count.

“Well?” Ava said. “Where are they?”

“Gone.”

She paused, stared at the woman. “Where?”

“Away.”

“For how long?”

“Forever.”

Ava blinked, sat back in her chair. Forever. Specter couldn’t kill them, she just couldn’t stay solid long enough to do that now. The few stragglers she had gathered had left her. Left her. Me!

She stared into empty space, not at anything, trying to understand how such miserable fucking superhumans had the gaul to leave the daughter of someone who would have used them as foot stools just a decade ago. No, that wasn’t right. Lucifer would have skinned them and laid them on his office floor like rugs. Fucking rugs. God, the damned nerve. She’d paid them. Taught them. Used them to make sure that they would at least have a piece of this disgusting little borough she had been hiding in for so long, and the first thing they did was leave. Not a warning, not a note, and not a single clue of where it is they were heading to, or what exactly they were going to do. No, wait, hang on. Ava shook her head, laughed a little under her breath as she realized that she’d just done them a favor. Those bastards now had at least a few blocks worth of Lower Olympus to themselves. Right, those idiots wouldn’t last a month, no, a week without someone leading them.

I barely have enough to keep myself drunk.

Ava rested her forehead on the table and shut her eyes. The beer was making her stomach warm and her throat dry and her tongue bitter, and maybe she needed that right about now, because she didn’t have anything else left. The Guild was destroyed. O’Reiley had fucked off with her bank accounts, or maybe it was that damned Kaiju…she didn’t know, couldn’t really remember who had put a gun to her head and told her to write them all down or else they’d just keep pulling her apart for days on end. Yes, she was somewhat immortal. But she aged. She grew. And having your gut yanked out from your torso for a week by a man who used to spit shine her shoes was a nightmare she didn’t want to remember. And that dog had watched, Cedric had stared—Ace and Damsel left.

You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

There was one account left, the one her father put in her name alone. She had only found out about it last year before he vanished. Well, more of a storage space than a bank account.

It had been keeping something priceless. Something the House of One would pay in blood for several billion lives over. But it didn’t fucking matter. Ceaser got to it the last she checked.

The Book of Two was missing, meaning her soul was quite literally in his hands.

He could cross out her name right now and end it all.

But he hadn’t yet, hadn’t for months, as if he enjoyed watching her (Ava knew he was watching, knew he was always watching) kick and squirm around in the shit like the rest of them.

Witchling would have been more than helpful looking for that artifact, but she, just like the rest, decided to leave as soon as she could, which just so happened to be the same time Rylee left.

“Ava?” Specter whispered. The stink of saccharine rot got closer. “You promised—”

“Leave,” she muttered.

“But our agreement—”

“I said leave,” Ava snapped, her head jerking upward.

She didn’t find Specter standing on the other end of the table, but another woman entirely. She was tall and lean, clad in slim black armor plating accented with bronze. Two swords rested on her back, crossed over her spine, Ava guessed, and short enough to be useful and deadly in a quick draw. Short chocolate-colored hair lay wild atop her head, and those eyes, so stunningly sharp, so bright and wild, were a deep shade of green. Ava sat upright, stared at this woman, maybe this girl. She didn’t look older than either she or Rylee, but her eyes told a different story. The scar splitting her eyebrow and grazing her upper lip said otherwise. Someone who had lived this life to its fullest and come out alive several times over. Someone who had been forced to drink bitter liquid iron to survive it, too. Well, survive for now. Everyone in this business, even the gods, eventually perished.

When the woman stepped slightly forward, she made no sound at all. She wore no mask, wore nothing to hide the savage beauty of the shape of her lips and jaw. Ava could only stare, only drink from the half-finished bottle and look the girl up and down. Who are you? Ava wracked her brain, tried thinking about anything she’d ever seen of her before. The closer she got to the light, the more she saw of the grit under her eyes, the scarred metal of her plating that glinted silver under the lamp, and her smell, too—old blood, sweat, and sewage. A drifter, maybe? No. Not with that posture. Not with that body. A new vigilante, one with an agenda. However, she didn’t ooze heroism, didn’t look like the kind of person who thought themselves higher than other people.

She didn’t think it because she knew it. This girl in front of Ava was an assassin.

Judging by the bronze bird head on her shoulder, she was from the Talon Faction.

Ava sighed and finished her beer, setting it down gently on the table. “Yes?”

“Avarie Rivera,” the girl said. Her voice was hoarse, strained, insightful and inviting, like a snake and its fetid aroma. “I have been sent, admittedly grudgingly, to meet with you myself.”

Ava folded her arms, smiled a little, possibly buzzed because of the humidity and the beer and the exhaustion of this endless painful spiral. “Unfortunately I’m not a very good assassin.”

Her cat-like eyes narrowed. “I would rather teach a cat to bark than you to kill.”

“Find enough Kaiju, and I’m sure you’ll be able to.”

A flash of silver flicked through the air, then the sound of a dagger slamming into metal pinned itself to her fridge. Ava didn’t bother glancing over her shoulder to look at the damage as warm blood began to trickle down her cheek. Before she could wipe it away, the wound closed.

“Fancy,” Ava muttered. “Why is it that you’re here, exactly? What does the Talon want?”

“Your father,” she said. “Lucian has been called upon, yet has not heeded the beckon.”

“Mm,” Ava hummed. “He’s currently indisposed.”

The girl stalked forward, her brows rising ever-so-slightly. “Lucifer is dead?”

Ava shrugged one shoulder. “Missing. Has been for nearly a year now.”

She paused, her eyes drifting to the darkness around her. Ava followed them, watched the girl’s body language, studied the thoughts she saw working through her mind, and that psychic connection they used to communicate with one another. More must have been outside, maybe an entire Wing. She had met members of the Talon before, and even met members of the Order before, too, and neither had very much impressed her. Their business in New Olympus ceased the same day Zeus appeared, and they haven’t been here since. South America. Europe. Asia. That’s where they did their business, but at the end of the day, the shine of this city attracted everyone. If the Talon is here, Lady Kami isn’t far. Ava would have wanted to be part of this symphony, because just so many fun things were happening without her being able to do anything at all but watch. Rylee would be in for so many fun adventures, so many nights filled with bloodshed, sadness, and secrecy, because the assassin guilds did not play nice with anyone that wasn’t part of their society.

Not to mention that the Daughter of Zeus hadn’t been seen in about two weeks now. Schools opened last week. The Olympiad had taken in its new applicants. And Rylee just vanished.

Ava hoped she hadn’t died. They never got to speak without spitting words at each other. Maybe in another life, she figured, they would be…not friends, but something of the sort, too.

She had never had one of those, anyway. Rylee must have been the closest to it.

“Do you know of Lucian’s possible whereabouts?” the assassin asked her.

“I suppose that’s how missing works, I don’t.”

“Yet you requested aid from the Daughter of Zeus.”

Ava smiled. So they’ve been watching, but not for long enough. By her guess, they only began when her father stopped answering them. She never knew their dealings, never knew what they spoke about behind closed doors. It had been her brothers, her older sister, who sat in those meetings and spoke with the Guild Master and her legions. Ava had been just a child, the little one that her father would put on his lap and tell her not to worry, because when it’s her in his seat one day, everything would be much easier. “I did, but not to find him. That would have alerted several street gangs, reignited flames that I was unequipped to handle. That hasn’t stopped my search.”

“What is it that you have found?”

Ava spread her arms. “My search and conquest has led me here, so nothing at all.”

The assassin stared at her. Then, finally, said, “You know who Zeus’ daughter is, yes?”

She said nothing. It was becoming a secret she might as well keep.

“My mother could always tell when your father lied,” the girl whispered. “You are very much alike, Averie. The Talon requests that you share this knowledge with us immediately.”

Ava waited, drumming her fingers against the table. Very, very interesting, this new wave of young people she so often met these days. A boy who looked like Zeus. The children of the few Olympians who survived the battle against Titan now emerging into the limelight—at least, even more so now than ever before. And now this girl, standing here with her swords and her stink of mouthwatering poison, was claiming to be Lady Kami’s very own daughter. Who’s the father?

“Yes,” Ava said, “I know who she is, but she’d be willing to slaughter to keep it secret.”

“We acknowledge her abilities, but—”

“No, I don’t think you do.” Ava shook her head and laughed a little. “She isn’t the kind of hero that our families have gotten so used to bartering with in decades past. She will kill you and humiliate you, spread your corpse along the street and leave you like any other name in the paper.”

Her eyes narrowed and fists clenched. “She’s no goddess.”

“And that’s even scarier,” Ava said. “Because a god wouldn’t understand why it hurts when they kill someone you love. She’s human, no matter what she says, and kills regardless of that.”

“Her father’s blood was spilled on this very soil.”

“By a man just as powerful as him, possibly even more so.”

She moved to put a hand on her sword, then paused, stepped back, and released it. A spark of aggression, a tiny flame burning in this girl’s chest, because she isn’t used to being argued with. “We don’t need her identity. Ultimately, that will be damaging to us”—Ava couldn’t help but smile, because someone was in her head telling her these words, because they came out stilted, odd, not her own—“and in that case, we need to know of an individual she has interacted with before.”

Ava rolled her hand, indicating for her to continue.

The girl tensed her jaw for a moment, listening to those voices in her head, to someone else in charge of her. “We request her name. As was last checked, Olympia interacted with her during the 12th Avenue incident just a few weeks ago, saving her life, as well as several others, including an actress, an unknown girl possessing unforeseen abilities, and the heir to the Donovan fortune. However, this girl seemed to be of high importance to her, and we request that you aid our search.”

Ava stared at her for several quiet moments, then laughed. Maybe it was the beer sloshing around her empty stomach, or these ludicrous demands, because the Talon must be undergoing some kind of internal change for them to even consider asking for such information! Ava herself had been killed by Rylee for even saying her name out loud, and these fools, this guild of swords and shadows and secrets, who thought they were untouchable, who thought they were still as important as they were decades ago, were going to hunt down the same girl Rylee so deeply loved?

Ava had nothing left—close to nothing left; she still had her wits, her mind, and a body that hadn’t given up yet, and a soul for at least a few more weeks or until whenever Caesar decided otherwise. But here, right now, she realized that the Talon was ultimately as fucked as she was. But, as she breathed, as she wiped her tears and stopped laughing hard enough to hurt her own ribs, an opportunity was brewing right here in this room. If they wanted to find themselves on the brink of extinction, then fine. She had something they needed, and Ava really wanted something they had.

She wanted power, control, and the backing of people with resources that spanned entire continents. That supplied militias and unstable warring nations that generated millions. Her father’s days were long gone. His influence had faded. The Rivera name was a footnote in this city’s history and remained a target on her back, her cross to carry and her banner to bear, but she hadn’t given up yet. She did believe in this city, in what it could be. The days when it shone, when it was filled with life and color, drugs and murder be damned, was a reality that will happen again. Not because of her father, but because of her and her name. Yes, it was true that she always wanted her name in people’s mouths, and not her father’s right away. Not Lucian’s daughter, but Avarie Rivera. She had failed, but she will not fuck up again. She had done things the way her father had done them.

But Ava wasn’t her father. She would do this her own way, starting now.

She stood, rising steadily and placing her hands on the table, smiling at the girl and looming over the light that shone over the table. “I know who you’re speaking about, every single thing.”

The assassin’s eyes flicked up and down, scanning her. “Her name, what is it? As well as her address, her father and mother, possible professions and possible hobbies. I know...we know of Katie Clear, but why does she protect this girl so fiercely? What does she mean to the Lynx? ”

“For that kind of price, I could buy myself half of this city.”

She glared. “You dare barter with the Talon?”

“I dare make a deal with those you kneel at the feet of, yes.”

She stepped to move again, but once more, her hand did not go any further than the hilt of her sword. The two girls watched each other, one smiling, the other glaring with eyes full of hate.

Like a dog on a leash, Ava thought, and not everyone can bite the hand that feeds.

Silence prevailed, thick and laden with heaving wills in that dark and foul apartment.

And finally, the girl’s hand slipped back to her side. “Name your price,” she hissed.

Rylee won’t be too enthusiastic about me giving out Bianca’s name to an assassin. Then again, Katie won’t either.

Ava stuck out her hand, smiling, her eyes darkened by the flickering lamp. If there was one thing she had gotten good at, it was getting people to want to murder her. But she wanted this city clean, even if it meant that she would have the Talon’s deterrence that was Katie Clear, as well as Rylee herself, coming for her throat. But, well, she didn’t care, because heroes are all selfless, aren't they?