Tonight, I would see her again. I was taking her on “a date,” as strange as that was for me. At Tristan’s repeated prodding, I’d called her last night to ask her out, and she’d accepted instantly, though she had asked me to pick her up at the Smoothie Hut instead of her house.

“I can do that,” I’d told her, frowning. Getting inside the Hill residence was one of our main priorities, but Ember had been reluctant to have me close to the villa ever since we met. “But, don’t you want me to pick you up at home?”

“Um, yes,” she stammered, and I could sense she was holding something back. “But…well, it’s my brother. He’s my twin, and he’s a little overprotective. Actually, make that uber overprotective. Overprotective to the nth degree. After I got home from the party, he was pretty pissed. If you show up at the house, he’s going to be neurotic and ask questions, and I don’t want to deal with that right now.”

She sounded defensive and a little sad at the same time. “I plan to tell him about us, but after he cools down a bit. Until then, it’s just easier for him not to know.”

Tristan shook his head, moving the groceries from their bags to the counter. “It’s nearly four o’ clock, Garret. Don’t you have a date tonight?” he asked pointedly.

“I haven’t forgotten.” It had been on my mind the second I woke up this morning. Tristan didn’t need to remind me. I was acutely aware of every minute that dragged by. “I’m leaving in a few minutes.”

“Oh yeah. Here.” He broke away from the counter and tossed me something over the room, something tiny and black. I caught it, letting it rest in my palm as I looked down. A tiny, thin square of plastic and metal, lying inconspicuously against my skin. I blinked and glanced back at Tristan. “A bug?”

“Stick that in her cell phone if you have the chance,” he said, continuing to put groceries away. “It should go in right behind the battery. Once that’s done, we should know in a few days whether or not she’s our sleeper.”

I stared at the bug a moment longer, strangely hesitant, before slipping it into my pocket. This is a mission, I reminded myself, standing to return my Glock to its holster. I certainly couldn’t take it with me tonight. It’s nothing personal.

“By the by,” Tristan went on, pausing to grin at me over a Doritos bag. “I’m curious. Where are you two crazy kids going, anyway?”

“Movies, I suppose. Isn’t that the normal practice?”

“Yes,” Tristan nodded. “If you want to be completely boring and unoriginal. You’re not going to get her to talk much by staring at a screen for three hours.”

Irritation flared, which was odd for me. “What would you suggest then, oh guru of the first date?”

Tristan laughed. “Wow, you are nervous. Relax, partner. It’s not like this is real. Besides,” he added, grinning as he shut the cabinet door and turned to me, enjoying my discomfort far too much, “I have the perfect spot.”

Ember

The soldiers were onto me.

I’d already been gunned down twice this morning. My scales were spattered with red, and a trickle of paint kept oozing into my eye, making my third lid constantly slide up to protect it. It was getting harder and harder to ambush the sneaky bastards; they were wise to my method of assault now, and ready to defend a sudden attack from above. Still, I’d managed to take several down before being shot to death with paintballs. Tearing away the strip of red cloth at their waist now equaled a successful “kill,” and I’d racked up quite the body count. I thought I was doing pretty well, for someone who had to get in close to people with freaking guns. Still, it never satisfied her.

I was creeping through the aisles, all senses alert, when a soft groan made me freeze. It came from the other side of the crate wall, and I quickly leaped up top to avoid detection, careful to land silently.

Peering over the edge, I blinked.

A soldier lay in the middle of the corridor, face down on the cement, his gun at his side. I watched, ready to pounce if he got up.

Maybe he’d tripped, or maybe he was just taking a nap, I didn’t know.

But he didn’t rise, though his legs moved weakly and faint groans came from his huddled form. Something was wrong.

I dropped soundlessly to the floor, gazing around for his teammates. No one seemed to be around. They were probably stalking different corners of the room, looking for me. The man in the aisle groaned again, tried to get up, and failed, slumping back to the cement. He was obviously hurt, and there was no one around but me.

“Hey,” I said, trotting forward. I wished I could’ve Shifted into human form and not look so…target-like, but as always, I was nude for these little exercises. “Are you all right? Are you hurt?”

He moaned again, and I stepped closer. “Can you walk?” I asked urgently. “Do you want me to get Scary Talon La—”

Quick as a snake, he flipped onto his back, leveled his gun and me, and fired point blank at my chest.

Dammit! I flinched back, not bothering to dodge, knowing it was useless. I wasn’t even surprised when the rest of the squad appeared from hidden nooks and crannies and fired on me, too. Dammit, dammit, dammit, I walked right into that one. I’m sure she will have all kinds of things to say about this.

Closing my eyes, I hunkered down until the storm of paint finally stopped, and waited for my trainer to appear.

As usual, it didn’t take long. Scary Talon Lady emerged from an aisle, shaking her head, her eyes crinkled with disgust. I growled, curling my lips back, as the soldiers took their guns and vanished again, including the one on the floor.

“I know,” I growled before she could say anything. “Pathetic. you don’t have to tell me, I know what I did wrong.”

Her eyes bored into me. “If you knew,” she said in a soft, unamused voice, “why did you do it?”

“I…I thought he was hurt! Really hurt. He’s not a soldier of St.

George—if he really was injured, I wanted to help him.”

“And that,” my trainer said in a hard, icy voice, pointing with a sharp red nail, “is exactly why you failed. Who cares if he was hurt?

He was still your enemy, and you had no business wanting to aid him.” She straightened, giving me a look of contempt. “What is it you should have done, hatchling?”

I bit back the snarl rising to my throat. “Killed him.”