24 - THE OPERATIVE

I looked down at where Justinia was pushing her way past several seated spectators, then back up at the private box.

The operative was gone.

Sudden, hot panic shot down my spine.

“Oh fuck,” I hissed. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

We really were going to die.

And it was going to be my fault.

I ran—or at least, moved as fast as I could down the cramped aisles. Directly behind Felice and I tapped her on the shoulder, said, “We have to go. Right now. Faster, Felice!”

She glanced back at me, questions in her eyes, but was smart enough to know that now wasn’t the time for questions.

One row at a time, down, down, toward the exits. The remaining gladiators facing off against the man in iridescent armor were down to four. The other six lay in bloody heaps, bodies splayed and twisted across the grass. The audience was roaring, their voices forming a deafening, ear-aching chorus.

It was all too much.

My bladder was full. My heart was racing. Where was the operative? Where, where? How could a person just…vanish? My eyes returned to the box: empty now. Akios would be on his way to the exit. The question was, would the operative warn the governor that something was amiss, or would she simply come for me and eliminate the threat before it became an actual problem?

We finally reached the ground-floor. The closest exit was around a hundred feet away. Some other spectators were already moving through in a slow line, all of them eager to leave ahead of the rest of the crowd.

We joined the line. I leaned forward, whispered in Justinia’s ear: “I think we’re in trouble.”

She didn’t even look at me. “Why?”

“I think an operative saw me. And I think they know that something is happening.”

Now she turned sharply, eyes narrowed. “How do you know they were an operative?”

“Just a feeling.”

“Where did they go?”

“I have no idea. She practically just…disappeared.”

“Describe her.”

I described her exactly as I’d seen her.

At which point we reached the front of the line, a member of the Terarch Guard waving us forward.

And at which point a voice called out behind us.

A woman’s voice, saying, “Wait! Do not let those three through!”

My blood chilled. But luck, it seemed, was temporarily in our favor, because none of the Guard seemed to hear the voice or recognize that it was directed at them. They let us pass. Justinia and I both looked back at the same time.

And there she was, the young woman with the fringe, now sprinting toward us.

“Shit,” said Justinia.

“That’s her—” I started to say.

“Run!”

We ran. Wide, open streets all around us. No sign of Stumbles, or Camillan, or any of the Thorns. They’d most likely already moved to intercept the governor, had maybe even engaged with the security detail. At this point in the plan, the three of us had been tasked with making our way toward the north exit in case things went bad and our help was needed.

Stolen story; please report.

Things had gone bad, but it was us who needed help.

Justinia, as it turned out, was a very good runner. She sprinted north. Felice and I followed but we could barely keep pace with her. My boot slipped, caught on a rough piece of stone, and I nearly fell. I took a chance and once again looked back

There she was, the operative, sprinting after us.

And rapidly gaining ground.

Shit, but she was fast.

It occurred to me that, for the second time since I’d arrived in the city, I was running from an Autarchy official. I wasn’t sure exactly what my father and the rest of our order had had in mind when they’d sent me away on this mission, but I had a feeling that this wasn’t it.

Curse my foolishness, my arrogance, my stupidity—

An impossibly strong hand clamped down my left shoulder.

I didn’t even have time to cry for help. The operative yanked me back, pulling me to the ground, blue eyes flashing. Her hand, lightning fast, went to her hip, and pure reflex compelled me to roll to the side—a moment later, a curved knife darted out, slashing through the space I’d occupied moments before.

“Wait, wait!” I choked out.

The operative was expressionless, wordless, relentless. She came for me, a knife appearing in her other hand, and all I could do was throw myself to the side, scrambling to my hands and knees, crawling away like some desperate animal. Logically, I knew I needed to use my powers, to pierce her heart with a rib or crush her skull, but I needed time, an opening, a few moments at least with which to compose myself.

The operative was giving me nothing.

Footsteps. Boots slapping against the stone.

Something flashed through the air.

One of Justinia’s axes.

The operative threw her knife.

The knife spun through the air and hit the handle of the ax while it, too, was spinning—the ax reversed its direction and then fell, clattering harmlessly against the stone.

It was such a smooth, effortless action that, for a moment, I found myself stunned.

Even Justinia, who was now charging the operative, seemed briefly shaken by what had just occurred.

But the thing about Justinia was that, once she got started, she didn’t stop—not for anything.

Justinia had replaced her thrown ax with another that she’d apparently had hidden on her person. The operative, down to one knife, stared Justinia down.

And then she did something.

Time froze—literally.

I couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t even look around. My gaze was fixed straight ahead on the scene before me: Justinia in mid-stride, locked in place just as I was. Then I noticed a bird high above us, likewise frozen, and several citizens in the distance, who now resembled statues.

Confusion mixed with terror and left me feeling nauseas.

The operative began to walk slowly, confidently, toward Justinia.

No, no, no, a fearful voice echoed in my head.

The operative was using some kind of power; she had done this.

Justinia had warned me; she’d explained, days ago, that the Autarch imbued his most loyal and faithful operatives with fragments of his own power, transforming them into superhuman enforcers. I’d listened, and said that I understood. But I hadn’t. Not really.

Now I did.

The operative was maybe ten feet away from Justinia, curved knife glinting.

Focus. Concentrate.

I was frozen, but maybe I could still use my own power.

At the very least, I had to try.

I switched into necromantic vision so that I could see through the operative’s clothing and flesh, so that her bones, a pure, bright white, were highlighted against the dark grays of the world. It hadn’t been that long since I’d consumed the souls of the dead gladiators. Their power was still inside me. I could use it. All I needed to do was focus.

I shattered one of the operative’s ribs, just as I’d done to the soldier in the arena.

And then, moving quickly, body thrumming with power, I prepared to pierce her heart with the shattered bone—

The operative paused, face twisting in pain.

Impossibly fast, she spun on her heel, turning to face me.

Her arm whipped up, cocking back.

She threw her knife at me.

Time resumed, and a thousand things happened all at once. Sounds, sights, and sensations exploded across my awareness. Each forceful beat of my heart was like a hammer blow.

A second later, the operative’s knife thudded into me.