The dawn chilled Harper's lungs with the sharpness of broken glass. It smelled like soil drenched in chemicals and wet cement. The sun had yet to rise.

Harper was hunkered with Avian and Declan in a large industrial graveyard somewhere north of Berlin. One could imagine horrible creatures living in its bowels, waiting for night to fall so they could emerge and hunt any living thing that ventured through the chain-link-fenced perimeter. She cast an uneasy glance at a rusted door hanging askew, revealing nothing in the darkness beyond its threshold.

"So damn cold," muttered Avian.

"You mentioned it," said Declan.

"Did I? Freakin' Siberia here," said Avian. "Why couldn't the drop be somewhere in the south of France?"

"Or why don't you dress for warmth, not looks next time," Declan pointed out.

"Why can't it be both?" asked Avian, sounding genuinely puzzled.

"Because clearly, you failed at one of them," snorted Declan, giving Avian a once-over. "Maybe both."

"Avian," warned Harper preemptively, cutting off what could easily turn into an hour-long bickering match.

Avian might not have had the good sense to layer up, but what he had done well was execute the Sand Road trap beautifully. Until the last minute, he'd let other bidders push the price well into nine figures. Then, the highest bidder had experienced some unfortunate and entirely unforeseeable technical issues, leaving an opening for Crispin's people to snatch the winning bid seconds before the auction had closed.

The winner was provided the same coordinates that Harper, Declan, and Avian would approach from the southeast on this morose morning. Tank had gone ahead to scope out the perfect sniper spot and was already in position; he appeared as a blue dot on Declan's map, less than a mile from the drop site.

Wick's contacts appeared at the checkpoint like golems coming to life from the rubble: two burly men with balding heads that looked like they ran a corner Italian butcher shop, and a third, lanky curly-haired one. The larger of the pudgy brothers was clearly the leader of the group. He stepped forward and shook each of their hands, introducing himself as "Vito."

Harper raised an eyebrow at Declan. There was no way that was his real name.

Avian, thinking the same, grinned at the curly-haired guy. "And, let me guess, Sunny?"

Curly frowned, two light eyebrows rode down so low they almost landed on the bridge of his nose. "Peppe," he said in a gruff voice, then muttered something that sounded like "cologne-eh" but had the distinct flavor of the word asshole.

Harper shot Avian a warning look. Don't engage.

Declan handed them a briefcase and kept his greeting to a laconic nod. Smart man.

Gerard had dug deep into the Order's trove to find a quasar that was a suitable candidate to pass muster: something the Society wouldn't have come across in all their years, old enough to fit the bill, and gave off all kinds of radiation when scanned. It was one of the more powerful quasars in the Order's collection and, Harper knew, it pained Gerard to use as bait.

Peppe unlatched the briefcase, examined the object, and looked questioningly at Harper. "What is this?" he asked.

"You weren't hired to ask questions, only to make the exchange," said Declan curtly.

Peppe shut the briefcase and nodded at Vito, who started in the direction of the exchange. The three Watchers exchanged a glance and drew black ski masks over their faces, becoming the anonymous security detail to the Italians.

Harper's mind was reeling with the myriad of ways this could go south. What if these people turned on them? What if the Society had sent them? What if there was a trap waiting at the drop site?

And what if it all went well, and she was face to face with Crispin...

Could she stop herself from killing him the moment she got a clear shot?

Strips of sunlight burst through concrete pillars onto their silent procession. Harper thought back to Wick and Leonie hiding out in an idyllic little cottage in the woods, waiting for them to retrieve the parcel—Crispin. They'd settled on that as it was the nicest code name proposed. The alternatives were: Stinky Snake, The Sneaky Son of a Bitch or the SOB, The Bastard, Bag of Dicks, and The Albino Walking-Corpse. Leonie had suggested some word in French that no one could pronounce, but it had sounded intense when she'd said it.

They turned a corner of broken windows and entered what had once been a courtyard; a dry fountain sat in the center of several two-story buildings that had collapsed into themselves. Broken glass lay strewn along metal frames like abandoned beehives, and ripped colorful fabrics and tufts of fur piled in corners. They were in an abandoned toy factory.

A second group appeared shortly thereafter. Four masked guards flanked two men and a short woman whose face was bruised.

Crispin had sent Shakti in his stead. Hell. Fucking hell.

They'd have to take Shakti. To say this was far from ideal was an understatement.

"The artifact?" Shakti asked without preamble.

Vito motioned for Peppe to open the briefcase with the quasar. Inside lay a gold medallion that fit in the palm of a normal person's hand. Shakti would need both her childlike ones to hold it. She ran her thin fingers over it, no doubt sensitive to quasar powers now that she'd used one before.

Harper shuddered at the memory of the half-moon quasar, the pain that made her double-over that night at her sister's cottage. She watched Shakti with a strange dissociation. Here was someone who had once been a friend, and now she was more than a stranger. Harper was the one who wore a mask, but she wondered: had she ever known the true Shakti? Or was that gloved snake, Crispin, the reason Shakti turned into someone Harper didn't recognize?

Shakti narrowed her eyes at Vito, studying him with her sharp, green gaze like a human x-ray machine. Without breaking eye contact, she motioned for one of her companions who brought over a handheld device with an antenna. It sputtered to life and beeped loud when he waved it over the quasar.

"How does it work?" Shakti asked Vito.

He scoffed impatiently. "It didn't come with an instruction manual, donna. We are only delivery."

Shakti pursed her lips but said nothing more.

Out of the corner of her eye, Harper caught Declan tightening the grip on his rifle. In it was a tranquilizer dart loaded to prepare the parcel for transport—the substitute parcel, in this case—the moment the artifact exchanged hands.

Shakti appeared satisfied with her inspection, as much as she could've been without a demo of its powers, and motioned for her second companion to step forward. This one carried a briefcase and opened it in front of the third Italian whose name they never learned, who brought out a toolkit and began inspecting the bills.

Avian shifted his weight, almost imperceptibly. He and Declan fed on each other's energy like two lions ready to pounce.

Not yet, guys, not yet...

The dawn gave way to a frigid morning, but Harper's every neuron was firing hot. It was almost time. Heat warmed her chest where the transporter quasar lay under her shirt.

Both briefcases snapped shut as the exchange concluded.

Harper glanced back at the Society's guards. Four of them to three Watchers. It was going to be a close call.

The mounting tension brought an incredibly sharp focus to all of her senses, almost as if she were already using the transporter quasar. Underneath that clarity, something fuzzy was fighting its way to her frontal cortex. Something she should know but hadn't registered yet. She could hear her own increasing heartbeat pulsing in her ears. The mask grew increasingly itchy. Her palms were moist with sweat. Palms. Mask...

She looked back at the four guards. Four masks.

One pair of gloves.

You're here.

She sharply spun towards Declan who, in that very moment, pointed his tranquilizer gun at Shakti. "He's here!" Harper cried as the dart released and lodged itself into Shakti's neck.

Shakti reached for it in a daze and swayed to the side. One of the guards jumped towards Crispin and pushed him out of the way as a sniper shot whistled over their heads.

Harper dodged for cover when the Society's guards opened fire. She yanked her mask off.

Declan fired two shots back, then turned to her, "you have to get him. We'll cover. Go."

Harper sprinted after the retreating group that had split in two. Shots rang out around her but there was no time to be vigilant. She felt herself accelerate until she was no longer just running; it felt like flying forward. Everything in her path lit up incandescent green.

She slammed into Crispin and his guard, knocking them both off balance. She felt herself grow corporeal again as she tumbled ahead, head over backside, landing in a heap at a low wall. She lifted her gaze to find Crispin a few feet behind, with his mask off and white hair matted over his forehead.

"Shoot her!" he spat at the masked guard.

The guard raised his gun and pointed it at Harper, who was seeing spots in her vision. The back of her head throbbed as she staggered to her feet. She held onto the wall as a wave of nausea threatened to overcome her, and could only watch as Crispin's guard ended her life. Somehow, the moment dragged on.

"What are you waiting for?" Crispin growled. "Shoot her!"

Seeing the sliver of opportunity in the guard's hesitation, Harper pushed all her will through the transporter quasar until the green spots in her vision spread like ink in water, dyeing everything fluorescent. She pulled herself toward Crispin, seizing his collar when she reached him.

The guard lowered his weapon completely and stood mute.

With a burst of energy that tore a scream from deep within her, Harper transported both herself and Crispin to Declan and Avian. She grabbed onto them and held fast until she took them all to a cottage in the woods where the remaining Watchers awaited.

Her feet landed on something hard and wooden that crashed under the combined weight of her, Declan, Avian, and Crispin. Wick and Leonie jumped back from the destroyed dining table and, after a brief moment of surprise, sprung into action.

The Watchers restraining Crispin was the last thing Harper saw before waves of green water crashed into her and swept her under.