DA: So, we have an ancient warlord princess running around the country, possibly starting plagues and, good news, she found an apprentice with weird powers. Fantastic. How sure we are that Roland is no longer a threat?

BD: One hundred percent sure. Daniels is unconcerned, and she would be his primary target. As to Erra, we will find her.

DA: What makes you so sure?

BD: Because she looks like this. [passes photograph]

DA: … How tall is she?

BD: Six two.

DA: When you said she was thousands of years old, I didn’t expect… that.

BD: No. I know this look.

DA: What look?

BD: Damian.

DA: Yes? Is there something you want to tell me off the record?

BD: No, I want it on the record. It’s Timothy’s job to record every word that passes here, and I want to be damn sure that he puts this in writing. Do you understand, Knight-Secretary Hanson?

TH: Yes, Knight-Inquisitor.

BD: This woman is a weapon of mass destruction. She can do things we can’t even imagine. She can make indestructible weapons and armor out of her own blood. She has centuries of education and experience. The Shift happened less than fifty years ago. Our most advanced mages are babies compared to her. Leave it alone.

DA: Mhm.

BD: I’m dead serious, Damian. This woman is trouble. Don’t get involved. I mean it.

DA: I heard you. Thank you for the report, Knight-Inquisitor. The Order appreciates your efforts.

BD: I warned you. Besides, it’s Julia Olsen we need to focus on. Roland had taken an interest in her. She was seen at his Swan palace and his subordinates referred to her as talmir, that means disciple. Daniels taught her to use bladed weapons, Roland taught her magic, and now, Erra took her with and God alone knows what she’s teaching her. Three individuals from that family have chosen to pour their knowledge into this child. Why? On top of that, this girl had a front row seat to the mess that is Atlanta’s politics for years. She has close ties to the Pack and the Witch Covens. Also, she’s welcome at Hugh d’Ambray’s Kentucky castle. She worries me.

DA: She’s what, eighteen?

BD: Just about. We don’t have an exact birth date.

DA: Young. Impressionable. And probably has a shit load of power. Find her for me, Bruce. We can’t get Erra, and we lost Daniels, d’Ambray was never an option, but we can still get Julie Olsen. We can’t afford to pass on this one. The ruling family of Shinar isn’t the only one waking up. We need the knowledge in her head, or we’re going to get outclassed fast.

BD: I’ll find her. The question is, how are you going to convince her to join us?

DA: She is an impressionable eighteen-year-old kid. Between the knights and the support staff, we have eighty thousand people who chose our side. Just get me to her, and I’ll take it from there. Make this a priority, Bruce.

BD: Understood, Grand Master.

Knight-Inquisitor Dolivo left the room.

DA [holding photograph of Erra]: What do you think about woman, Tim?

TH: She’s very dangerous, Grand Master.

DA: I’m sure she is. What was it Bruce said? Trouble.

TH: Yes, Grand Master.

DA: When you get to my age, Tim, you realize that playing it safe isn’t always the best strategy. After all, what’s life without a little trouble? Don’t write that down. We wouldn’t want Knight-Inquisitor Dolivo to lose his beauty sleep.

The King of Fire

Four years after the battle of Atlanta

“Why do you do this to yourself?” Grandfather sighed.

I sat on the floor of the library, basking in a pool of gentle light slipping through the narrow, arched window behind me. Blood and dirt smeared my jeans and my T-shirt. Everything hurt, and sorting through the maze of pain and aches was exhausting. My body was pretty much a single bruise. The right side hurt the most, sending a sharp spike of agony through my insides every time I inhaled. The seventh rib was broken. Probably when the bigger one kicked me. I was covering my head at the time, and the broken rib was the lesser of two evils. I was working on it, but I had to conserve magic. They would be coming for me soon.

“I have my reasons,” I told him.

“Are they good reasons?”

“The best.”

Grandfather sighed again. His handsome face, edged with a neat silvery beard, wore a long-suffering expression.

My brother stalked over from the spot by the wall. He moved on all fours, silent like a ghost on padded paws. When I materialized in Grandfather’s palace, he’d taken one look at the blood on my face and changed shape in a burst of flesh. In his human version, he was three feet eight inches tall, a perfectly reasonable height for a five-year-old. I knew this because we measured his height every six months. The current freaked-out iteration was about my height, armed with powerful muscle, leonine jaws with four-inch fangs, and claws that could gut a human like a fish. His fur was so dark, it was nearly black, and against that darkness, his gold eyes glowed, two blood moons hypercharged with shapeshifter hormones.

“It’s not that bad.” It was worse.

My brother pawed at the thick chain stretching from the shackles on my leg into empty air.

“Please leave it,” I told him.

He caught it with his right hand and pulled, testing the strength.

“Stop.” If he yanked it out of the wall, my whole plan would collapse.

He whirled around. The massive jaws gaped and snapped shut, fangs sliding against each other like teeth of a steel bear trap.

“That’s not nice.”

He snarled.

Grandfather stepped forward and rested his hand on my brother’s shoulder. “You are late for dinner.”

The kid let out a soft half-growl, half-sigh that turned into a whine.

“I know. Your sister never does anything without a plan. Off you go.”

“Do I get a hug?” I held out my arms.