Gregory, who drilled perfectionism into my head even more than science or math or history. But my real lessons didn’t begin in the classroom.
“Garret.”
“Yes, sir.” Never Father, or Dad, or even Uncle. From the very beginning, the only title Lucas Benedict ever accepted from me was sir.
“Come here. I have something for you.”
Obediently, I slid from my desk, where I’d been doing that night’s homework—an essay about the Order’s involvement in the Salem witch trials—and padded across the room to stand before my mentor. He regarded me seriously, as he always did, before he knelt and put something hard and cold into my hands.
I looked down and blinked. A black pistol lay in my six-year-old palms, cradled between my small fingers. A chill raced up my back. I remembered gunshots, fire, men screaming, bits and pieces of that night, and I shivered.
“Don’t be afraid of it,” Lucas Benedict told me. “It’s not loaded, so it can’t hurt you. A gun is only a tool—it can kill, but the person wielding it has to make that decision.” He put his large hand over both of mine and the weapon. “This is yours now, Garret. I’ll teach you how to hold it, clean it and handle it safely so that when it is loaded, you’ll know what to do. But I want you to start learning now. This is what you’ll be using to fight monsters someday, so it’s important, understand?”
I looked at the gun again. I could kill monsters with this. Like the horrible black-winged creature that murdered my family. On my own, I was no match for the demons. I was just a scared little kid who still had nightmares sometimes. But with a weapon like this, I could do my own killing. I wouldn’t have to be afraid anymore.
“Yes,” I replied, looking back at my mentor. “I understand. When will I get to shoot things?”
He chuckled and ruffled my hair in a rare moment of affection. “When you’ve proved to me that you know how to clean, handle and take care of it properly when it’s unloaded, I’ll teach you how to shoot it. But not before. Not until I’m certain you know what you’re doing. So...want me to show you how to clean your weapon, soldier?”
“Yes, sir!”
That was the beginning.
“Too bad it’s not Mardi Gras.”
Riley shot me a look from the driver’s seat, the hint of a smile playing at his lips as we cruised down the narrow road. “Hoping to catch some beads, Firebrand?”
“No.” I wrinkled my nose at him. “But we’re here, in New Orleans. On Bourbon Street.” I looked out the window, at the buildings with their elegant verandas draped with flags and hanging plants. I imagined them filled with people in costume, crazy masks and colorful beads, with streamers of purple and gold flying all around. One huge party, like I’d seen on TV. “I was just wondering what it would be like,” I mused.
Riley snorted. “Crowded.”
“Noisy,” added Wes.
I rolled my eyes at them both.
“Where does Griffin want to meet us, again?” Wes asked, sounding annoyed as he gazed out the window, as if the crowds and pedestrians strolling past the car personally offended him. “And why here, in New Orleans, of all places? Right out in the open.”
“Exactly,” Riley said, and turned down another road, leaving Bourbon Street behind. I sighed and watched it vanish in the rearview mirror. “Out in the open, where everyone can see you. Where a Talon operative can’t walk up and shoot you in the face without causing a panic.”
I blinked. “Or where a pissed-off rogue dragon can’t kick his ass for selling us out?” I guessed.
“That, too.” Riley clenched the steering wheel, his expression promising retribution, even if it wasn’t at the moment. “Griffin is a sleazebag, but he knows what it takes to survive. And if you have a Viper breathing down your neck, the last place you want to meet someone is in a dark warehouse in the middle of the night.”
“Still.” Wes sniffed, gazing out the window in disdain. “He could’ve picked a less touristy place to meet. At least it’s not on Bourbon Street itself. I wouldn’t...oh, look there’s the blighter now.”
I followed Wes’s gaze. A figure in a familiar red suit sat at an outdoor table next to one of New Orleans’s many bars. His legs were crossed, and a half-full glass of something sat on the table in front of him. Riley’s lip curled, his hands clenching on the steering wheel. There were no parking spots anywhere on the street, so we drove past and found a place around the block.
“Wait here,” Riley told Wes, as I opened the door and slid out. The day was humid and warm, and the air felt heavy. “Keep the engine running. If Talon or St. George shows up, we’ll need to clear out fast. Firebrand...” Riley glanced at me. “Keep your eyes open. If you see anything suspicious, tell me right away. Ready?”
“Yeah.” I nodded. “Let’s go.”
We walked back to the outdoor patio where the human in the red suit waited for us. I scanned the crowds, the corners, the overhead verandas and the tops of buildings, searching for anyone suspicious. For anyone who might be hiding a gun, or whose gaze lingered too long on us. For just a moment, I remembered the words of a certain human soldier long ago, when I first accused him of paranoia.
It’s not being paranoid, if they’re really out to get you.
A lump rose to my throat, and angrily I shoved it down. Not now. Focus, Ember.
As we approached, the human raised his glass to us in a mocking salute. “Riley!” he said cheerfully, showing a flash of brilliant white teeth. “And his little sidekick herself. Have a seat, won’t you? Let me buy you a drink.”
“Thanks, but I’ll pass.” Riley hooked a plastic chair with his boot and pulled it toward him before sliding into it. I took the seat beside him, glaring at the human across from us, as Riley gave a dangerous smile. “I’m still trying to figure out how you think you’re going to get out of this without me bashing your head in.”
“Now, now. Temper, Riley.” Griffin waggled a finger at him. “No eruptions—that will get you into trouble here. There’s no need to be unpleasant, is there?”
I growled softly, my dragon seething under my skin. “There are plenty of reasons to be unpleasant,” I said, baring my teeth just slightly in the human’s direction. “Considering you sold us out to the highest bidder.”
Griffin seemed unconcerned. “Oh, come now. That was business. Nothing personal. Thousands like me would do the same. Besides...” He swirled the ice in his drink. “I think you’re going to want what I know. It’s worth more to you than bashing my head in right now. You wouldn’t be here otherwise.”
Riley sneered. “Don’t try to sell me a line now that the organization is gunning for you,” he said in a low voice. “This is what happens when you play both sides. Eventually, they both discover you can’t be trusted...except now you know too much.”
“No such thing.” Griffin sniffed and stared us down over the bridge of his
