"Gerard! What the hell?"

"I could ask you the same thing," he said in a gruff voice, his bushy brows so low they practically doubled as fuzzy eyelids. He wore a wool jacket, gray and worn, tired around the edges. Just like him. He pulled it closer to his receding frame and leaned heavily onto his cane, more so than usual. The weather changes flared up his arthritic joints.

Harper's anger fizzled when it registered he'd used her last name. He only called her Miss Gregory when she'd done or was about to do something spectacularly stupid. It cut through the adrenaline fog that painted her vision red. Getting her breathing under control was a different matter, however.

"What you were about to do was beyond reckless," said Gerard. "I thought I had taught you better than that." He shook his cane at her, huffed, and turned to go not waiting to see if she followed. He knew she would. Where else was there to go? The last of the quasar's energy faded with a shimmer like the wings of dragonflies.

Harper sighed and hurried along, looping one arm under his. He huffed but said nothing as he leaned on her for support. She thought of it as his reluctantly-grateful huff. He hated the help, but his strength just wasn't what it had been.

He huffed and puffed daily like a teenager who couldn't believe the audacity of his body aging. How dare it betray him so? He should be out riding horseback and seducing women with champagne on yacht parties. Instead, his bones ached and his reason for leaving the house was to babysit Harper so she wouldn't do something idiotic like get herself killed or maimed.

"How is Elizabeth?" he asked after some time walking in silence, steering them through narrow cobbled roads. A light sprinkle misted the air.

"Beth is well," said Harper softly. "Or at least she was until I showed up," she added bitterly. The cortisol was leaving her body in a tired, cold state, and she huddled closer to him.

To an unassuming passerby, they looked like a wretched family. If there had been people out on the streets at such a late hour, no doubt someone would have tossed a coin their way. The thought made Harper chuckle. There was a time when she cared about money and prestige, and in one blink of an eye, all of it turned to noise. Dust and leaves scattered on the wind. She could squeeze her eyes shut, but the image of the moment she lost Theo would forever be burned into her memory. Now the full coffers of the Watcher's Order were merely a means to an end. The end of the Society of Ra, as it were, and everything it stood for, namely greed.

"Avian and Declan will make sure your family are alright," said Gerard in his more soothing grumble, like a grandfather talking to his favorite grandchild after she'd done something naughty. He couldn't stay mad at her for long. Harper gave his elbow a squeeze. The Watchers were her family now, but she knew he meant well.

Together they shuffled to the doorstep of a townhouse with thick curtains darkening its windows, one in a row of many alike. They all blended in unremarkable gray, once-upon-white, and varies shades of aged cheese. The façade peeling away from the entrance revealed dirty bricks to greet them like rotten teeth in a crooked mouth.

Staying inconspicuous was the only thing that mattered to the Watcher's Order. Being a Watcher was all about discretion and stealth.

Watch, but never be seen,

Observe, but remain a shadow,

Unveil only to protect and defend,

Then become one with the night again.

In their youth, Gerard and his partner had formed the Watcher's Order as a competitor to the Society of Ra. The two didn't believe in acquiring and reselling destructive quasars, and so these two young, ambitious kids decided to strike out on their own and collect quasars with powers to heal, regenerate, or simply awe. If they came across any destructive quasars, Gerard believed it was their responsibility to destroy them or lock away for safekeeping. "We wanted to protect the world against its own malice," is how Gerard had explained it to Harper.

The Society of Ra had developed a different philosophy.

"You remind me of Rebecca sometimes," said Gerard, rattling the old key inside the lock until the door yawned open. "Always so foolhardy, ready to jump in front of a moving train if it means you push someone else to safety."

Harper studied him. He rarely mentioned his daughter these days. It was coming up on almost two decades from her death. "She didn't die for nothing," Harper said to him as she shrugged her coat off. "We will finish her fight."

Gerard muttered something under his breath.

"What was that?"

He cleared his throat. "It was my fight, and she should never have been involved. None of you ever should have gotten involved. Never should have let it go this far, for this long."

Ah, so that was the mood he was in today.

Harper helped him out of his coat. "It's our fight now," she said. "The Society of Ra overreached when they stole the destructive quasars from the Order back then. You and I both know exactly how those were used, and how they will continue profiting off of them. Until we destroy the Ra artifact trove, we cannot stop fighting."

Gerard huffed and waved his hand as if swatting a fly. He didn't want to hear it and preferred to wallow in pity instead? Well, too bad. Harper was going to remind him why she risked her life. Why they all did.

"The Society took Rebecca from you," she said. "They took something precious from each of us," Aisling's smile flashed before her eyes. "But more importantly, the fact that they continue dealing in destructive quasars means that this is bigger than any of us. The Watcher's Order is there to watch and protect, as you taught me. Sure, we can continue racing to get to any quasars before they do until the end of time, and then hide them or destroy them until they find us and destroy us, but they grow more powerful every day. Until we destroy their trove—the source of their wealth and power—danger continues looming over the world, and our mission is not over. Rebecca knew the risk of being a double agent, and it was worth risking her life if it meant we could stay a step ahead of them. I would do the same if I could—"

"Enough!" Gerard held up his hand. "Enough. I know all of this," he glared at her from under his bushy eyebrows. "I know what we must do," he grumbled. "It's just that the years weigh heavier some days."

"I know," said Harper softly. "This is why you have us, to lighten the burden sometimes."

They followed a flickering light at the end of the hall. It opened into a narrow room with a tall fireplace. It crackled lazily like a sleeping fire breather. Harper tossed the scratchy coat in the corner and sank in one of two winged armchairs. Gerard lowered himself with a sigh in the other, resting his cane on the side. They could hear the pitter-patter of rain drum against the windowpanes. For several minutes, Harper rubbed her aching arm up and down, her mind elsewhere.

"What is it?" asked Gerard. "It was hard to be back there, wasn't it?"

For all his faults, he'd always known how to read her. Ever since she'd met him as a little girl of five, her parents would say he just had a way with Harper that no one else did. When he helped her escape from the Society of Ra and protect Aisling, he'd become like her second father. In moments like these, she missed her parents dearly and wished things were different with her sister.

"It was," she said. Gerard was the only one who shared her secret. Beth had not seen him, but he had been right there in the shadows, watching over her on that fateful night many years ago. He was there for the months of heartbreak that followed when Harper wished she would die to make the sorrow end.

In the flicker of firelight, the same memory reflected in both of their eyes: Harper begging him to let her take her own life, and Gerard snapping her out of it. I lost one child to Ra, so help me, I will not lose you, too. Your daughter is still alive. You owe it to her to fight them and end them.

It was the darkest corner of Harper's soul. Not even Declan knew.

Harper was the first to break eye contact. She strode to the window, leaning her forehead on the frame. Her fingers trailed lines on the fogged glass.

"You will have a chance to clear your name and start over," said Gerard from his chair. "We will talk tomorrow when everyone is here."

She heard a shuffle behind her, the tap of his cane on the floor, and felt fingers like dry sticks pat her on the shoulder in passing. With a resigned huff that said he was done for the day, Gerard retired down another hall leading to his bedroom.

The pitter-patter became heavy raindrops that assaulted the glass, punctuated by angry thunder. Harper could recall another night like this when she looked out the window into a storm that would remain in her life since.

***

It was a golden day that shone brilliantly onto the palatial estate that was one of the Society of Ra bases on the outskirts of Edinburgh.

Harper's skirt made a swooshing sound over the polished floor when she and Shakti entered through the grandiose doorway that never failed to take her breath away. Stone sculptures of French kings of old flanked the double-wing door. It and all its accouterments had been acquired from a 16th-century monastery in Burgundy.

Inside, a gold-vein pattern of circles over circles under her feet glowed under the midday sun: a sun disc and the eye of Ra over the Flower of Life. The emblem of the Society of Ra could be found anywhere one looked; Hung over doorways, pinned on lapels, embossed in a journal here, engraved in wood there. It was a gentle but firm reminder they were always within the eyes—and reach—of the sun god.

Harper basked in the warmth, feeling watched over and protected.

"So I told him," Shakti said, "I will get that Coin of Poseidon if I have to invent time-travel and go back to Naxos in 700 BC!" Shakti had always been a dog with a bone when she got her eye on an artifact, so Harper was hardly surprised when her friend was invited to join the Quasar Division, the Society's highest and most prestigious order. Harper, while recognized for her brilliance, was much less ambitious, which is why she was still a mere Researcher.

"Did you get it?" Harper asked.

"What do you think?" Shakti said with a wink. "One thing's for sure: I couldn't have done it without your mad skills. We make a kickass team."

Harper laughed. "Yes, we do, twin."

After the way they'd left things with Theo, Harper welcomed the distraction that Shakti brought with the stories of her latest expedition. To say things had been tense between Harper and Theo was an understatement. It had been a week since their fight, and she'd only been able to avoid him because he'd given her space. The estate was big, but not that big.

"Oh, look who it is!" Shakti exclaimed. "One tall glass of handsome coming your way," she elbowed Harper conspiratorially.

Harper had spotted Theo already—that forest green sweater was her present to him—and was hoping Shakti wouldn't notice him and they could dodge that bullet, but now they were on a collision course and there was nowhere to go.

"You guys catch up," said Harper quickly, slapping her forehead. "I have to run back. I forgot to report findings. But I'll see you at dinner?"

"Of course," Shakti replied with a bemused smile as she watched Harper do a U-turn. It was easy to be in a good mood around Shakti—the woman was a positive battery—but not even she could balance the tension that would surely crackle between Harper and Theo.

Much like Harper's thoughts, by afternoon the sky churned from clear to murky, and by dusk, a sound like barrels rolling was rumbling above the estate and echoing through the otherwise quiet halls. Deep in the second-floor stacks with parchments in Arabic scattered about, Harper found herself reaching for her shawl. Whether the chill was from the open window or her mood was anyone's guess.

She kept replaying the fight she'd had with Theo. She never got a chance to tell him about the baby. And now? Was she going to? She didn't know what to do. What he had said was pure madness.

Her eyes fell on her handbag. Her plain, boring black handbag. The fake passport carrying her photo with another woman's name inside it felt like she had a bag full of vipers. She stared at it as if expecting them to escape and attack her.

Madness.

Pure madness.

Oh, Theo. What's gotten into you?

There had to be some logical explanation, some misunderstanding that drove him to say what he did. Once they cleared it up, they would surely have a good laugh about it. Remember the time you wanted us to change our names and escape to a foreign country? How silly was that?

She arched her back and reached over her head with a yawn, satisfied at hearing her vertebrae pop after sitting hunched for hours.

"Perhaps get up a bit, walk around," she told herself. The sound of raindrops dotting the wooden floor from an open window prompted her to do just that.

She hurried to latch it closed, but not before she spotted two figures on the roof of the east wing a level below. The roof itself was a long stretch of terrace with an iron fence on one side and open landing on all others, giving her vertigo just looking at it. People out on it in this weather? What were they thinking?

She could see one dark-clad shape wave its hands energetically—angrily, she realized. The other had his back towards her and was partially obscured by the angle of the building. She squinted from her post to get a good sight on the edge of the rooftop. The dark figure paced when a hand pointed at him from the other side.

She furrowed her brow at the sky. The rain intensified. The fools were going to slip and fall off the roof. Couldn't they take this inside?

Harper opened the window again and was about to yell at them when thunder shook the skies. She startled, a flash momentarily blinding her. What happened next was a blur of water, lightning, and shock.

A fist. Someone falling. Getting up and grabbing. Two figures joining into one.

Tumbling.

A dash of green as one went over the side of the roof, leaving the black-clad one standing over it.

He looked up, pushing back hair the color of rock salt. His bottomless eyes met Harper's across the expanse.

She gasped, her mind refusing to understand.

Understanding.

Not believing.

No.

A single word escaped her lips.

"Theo."