Each step was excruciating. The humming of the armed bombs brought all Tate’s nerves to the edge of sanity. He knew he hadn’t set the detonation, but he kept waiting for them to blow. After a glance at his watch, he decided he’d give the cat five minutes. Gritting his teeth, he checked how much blood had pooled over his arm.

He could spare five minutes. Probably.

He stopped in the short hall and listened, hoping that Cuss would be forever Cuss. That cat hated three things: anyone but Jane, cages, and things that reminded her of the lab. The electronic humming was highly reminiscent of the sound some of their equipment made.

Ah. There it was. The feline version of a growl—a low chest moan of utter loathing.

Tate smiled despite the pain and limped toward the sitting room. He stopped in the doorway and checked to make sure that Wauters was still on the floor where he’d left her.

She was starting to stir.

He scanned the room as he entered, careful to never turn his back on the human-xeno. His e-pistol was too close to her to be retrieved, but at the edge of the room, he saw her weapon, next to a growling, hissing armchair.

Convenient.

Joseph went for the gun first. He did a quick inspection and fired it toward a wall. It still worked, and it was unbound. He let out a sob of relief, then stopped himself. If he was having that kind of reaction, he was worse off than he thought.

Unbidden, he heard her voice in his head. “Look for the cracks where emotions slip through. They’ll tell you what’s going on inside the head. Watch your friends. Watch yourself.”

He wondered what she’d say if she knew he’d gone back for a cat, and he grimaced. That was the kind of idiot thing a hero would do. He’d never live it down.

Tate looked around the couch to check on Lia Wauters. She’d stopped moving. He dropped to all fours and looked under the armchair beside him. Cuss was there. She was not happy to see him.

“Any chance you’ll let me rescue you?”

Another growl.

“Right.”

Tate straightened up to his knees and looked around the room for anything he could use. His eyes fell on his jacket, hanging up by the door.

The door right next to the still-living xeno.

He thought he’d prepared himself, but watching the hand transform had terrified him like nothing else in his life ever had. Every cell in his body had screamed at the wrongness of it—a howl of warning that the thing in front of him wasn’t human.

And she was smart enough to wear body armor and knew how to fight as well as any soldier.

At least he still had the head shots.

He hurried sideways, past the obstructing furniture, and reached for his coat. When he yanked it from the rack, the whole thing fell from the wall, stealing his attention for a second.

He turned back. Lia Wauters was crouched close to the wall. Her eyes were fixed on him, and her posture said she was ready to spring. Both her hands were now deformed by xeno claws. She opened one of them and his knife clattered to the floor with a metallic ringing sound.

She was going to attack. He raised his gun despite the fact he wouldn’t be fast enough. But even when the muzzle was pointed at her head, she still hadn’t pounced.

“Where is Jane Bonumomnes?” she said through clenched teeth.

Tate shook his head.

“Tell me!”

“How many of you are there?” he yelled back.

She didn’t move.

“How many human-xenos are there?”

She shook her head.

Tate pulled the trigger and blew it off.

He put the e-pistol back in his concealed holster and took his jacket toward the armchair. It had gone silent. He almost crashed to the floor, praying that Cuss hadn’t made a break to hide somewhere else, but the cat was there, seemingly scared into a humble silence. Tate knocked the chair over with his shoulder and wrangled the cat under his coat. He scooped the jacket under her paws and pulled the struggling package to his chest.

Stolen story; please report.

That’s right. I’m a goddamn hero.

He tried to walk as quick as he could, despite the fact he was limping worse than ever. Part of his side had gone numb. He made it to the back door of the lab and the utilities box. The other lab animals would have to be left behind. Other people must have heard the fight. More would be coming soon. There would be entire crowds of strangers and no way to know who or what they were.

With a sad pang, he tripped the last switch. He had forty-five seconds to get away.

When the lab blew, he stopped to admire his handiwork. It was controlled, impressive, and efficient. She would’ve been proud.

He limped toward the tavern with Cuss cradled against his bleeding stomach, still shrouded by his jacket. She’d resigned herself to whatever was next and had stopped struggling.

As he approached Odyssey, he saw a movement in the dark corner of the alley. He staggered toward it.

“Doc?”

The light of the planetary rings glinted off the raised e-pistol. “Not another step.”

Joseph smiled. “Good girl.”

“Can you prove who you are?”

“I have Cuss. And the scars she gave me. Better yet”—he jerked his head toward his left bicep—“no xeno could get a tattoo and have it be completely healed in under ten minutes.”

“Show me.”

In case Cuss found her fighting spirit, Tate checked to make sure of his grip on the jacket. Then he reached over and pulled up his shirt sleeve enough to show the black marking.

Jane hesitated and almost turned to where Moric Sipos was standing behind her. One hand left the pistol.

“I said no one.” Tate took a breath. “Look, I’ll walk into the light so you can see it better. Approach slowly.” There was an unexpected laugh. It came from him. He realized he didn’t have long. “I’m still bleeding out, Doc. I won’t be able to attack you easily.”

Jane inched forward until she could see the tattoo. It was a snake eating its own tail. The translucent skin tone over it testified it had been there for years. She wracked her brain, trying to remember where she’d seen it before.

Not on Tate. He always wore a t-shirt.

“The notes?” he asked.

“Sipos is holding them,” Jane muttered. She clicked on the safety and tucked the e-pistol into her belt.

Tate didn’t seem happy about that, but he didn’t offer an objection either. “Can you take Cuss?”

Jane nodded. As she took the bundled jacket, she could smell and feel the warm wet blood on it. When she spoke her voice was high and shaky. “I’m so sorry, Joseph. I wasn’t thinking. I’m so sorry. She’s only a lab animal.”

There were tears streaming down her cheeks.

Tate knew Jane would murder him if he embarrassed her when she was feeling so vulnerable. And she was armed. “No worries, Doc. It gave me a chance to confirm-kill the xeno and get a weapon. Not to mention, she is Cuss.”

Jane chuckled and wiped away the tears.

Tate struggled toward the ally where Sipos was waiting. The two men looked at each other but said nothing. Tate limped past him and over to the back door of the tavern. As he pounded on the metal door, Sipos and Jane came up behind him.

A woman opened it and stared out into the night. Her dark eyes took in the scene through narrowed lids. She included a grunt with her sigh.

“Geez, Tate. This is about what I’d expect from you.” She stood aside.

“Ode.” He went into the large kitchen and didn’t stop until he could lean on the preparation table.

Jane stepped up next.

“Good evening, Dr. Bonumomnes,” Ode said. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Jane was too baffled to do anything but nod.

The woman looked at the bloody jacket in her arms. “What’s this?”

“My cat,” Jane said.

Ode arched one of her sculpted eyebrows. “Ah. A woman after my own heart.” She motioned to Sipos. “And this stray?”

“He’s with me.” Jane hesitated. “He was with us…”

“When they came for you?”

Jane nodded again.

Ode turned to Tate as she closed the door behind Sipos. “Who?”

“The xenos.”

The woman spat out a foul word. “Does she know?”

“Not yet. Last contact was five days ago.”

Jane’s mind whirled with all the gaps missing from their conversation.

“Get on the table, loser.”

“I love you too, Ode.”

Ode looked up at Moric. “Hey, you—Frosty.”

Sipos had to suppress a grimace. He hated any reference to how white his hair was.

She said, “Go lock the doors.”

Moric was motionless for a moment, but then he went to do as he was told.

While he did, Ode went over to a cabinet and pulled out a huge metal case. She brought it over to the table where Tate was lying and dropped it beside his head. He winced at the noise. She unbuttoned her chef’s jacket, laid it aside, and opened the case to reveal a fully stocked medical kit.

Jane watched as the woman put on some gloves, pulled out a pair of blunt nose scissors, and cut off Tate’s shirt.

“We can go to a hospital,” Jane said.

“Oh, yeah, honey. A big old hospital. All those doctors and nurses and patients.” She glanced up. “Are you going to test all of them to see if they’re xenos?”

Tate reached out and tapped Jane’s side. “Hey. I don’t need anyone else. Odette is wonderful.”

Jane glanced up at Odette and discovered that there was a facial expression that was almost a scowl while still being a smile.

“I’ve trusted her with my life a hundred times,” Tate added. “She’s never let me down.”

“I ought to fillet you and make gumbo,” Ode said. “It’d be easier than saving your sorry ass. Again.”

“You’ve pretended to be a chef for too long.”

“I’m not pretending. Which you’d know if you ever tried my food.”

Jane watched as the woman worked. Her hands moved with precision and confidence. Then Jane’s eyes were drawn to the tattoo on Ode’s shoulder, partly visible under the white tank-top she was wearing. It was hard to make out because of how dark Ode’s skin was, but Jane recognized the snake with a tail in its mouth.

“You have the same tattoo,” Jane said.

“Ouroboros,” Ode said.

Jane knew she’d heard that word before.

“Who are you people?” She felt her anger, which had been frozen by shock, thaw and come clawing its way out of the corner of her soul. “You were obviously sent here. Who sent you?”

Ode didn’t look away from her work. Jane was almost shouting, but the woman didn’t seem to hear her.

“Doc, it’s okay,” Tate said.

“No, it’s not! Who sent you?” Jane’s mind raced. “It wouldn’t be the Supremacy.”

Ode snorted.

“The Rising?” There was no “almost” about Dr. Jane’s shouting now. “I told them—”

“The Rising didn’t send us,” Tate said.

“Oh,” Ode cooed, “she was right about the good doctor, wasn’t she?”

“Don’t lie to me, Tate!”

“I’m not lying!”

Dr. Jane had never heard Tate sound so angry. It was enough to make her pause and think.

A “she,” a tank top, and a glimpse of a tattoo most people would never see.

Joseph smiled when he saw her face. “You didn’t think Reyer would leave you here alone, did you?”