

## Contents

1. Thai Food

2. The Rift

3. The Field

4. James

5. Soul Armors

6. Axe in Room

7. Santa Maria Steaks

8. Carlos's Apartment

9. Neil's Designs

10. Algebra

11. New Friend

12. Bonfire

13. Team Meeting

14. Tortilla Chips

15. Practice

16. Jed

17. Sooty Embrace

18. Victory

Epilogue

The Adventure is Just Beginning

Overcast

About the Author

Copyright

Dedicated to my friends at Everyday,

for teaching me to be more like a child.

A full-color version of this map is available at: http://jtstoll.com/riftmap/

## 1. Thai Food

"A double date?"

That's what he'd been so excited to tell her about? Vero snapped the padlock shut on her locker and stomped toward the parking lot.

"It's for a friend of mine, maybe my best friend." Pieter Walters walked backward in front of her, his green eyes locked on hers. He happened to call a lot of people his best friend. "Neil. You remember Neil, right?"

Yes, she did. A plump Asian friend of Pieter's with round glasses and round cheeks. They'd met a couple times. The name brought a vague unease. What was it...That's right, video games. He'd tried—for about ten minutes—to explain some online game to her. Only Pieter's expertise at changing topics had rescued her from the encounter. "How could I forget him?"

A small group of guys walked by and waved at Pieter. He nodded back. Vero, who came up about to her boyfriend's shoulders, curved an arm around his waist and tugged him along. Sometimes, his social life made the daily walk to the parking lot a difficult task. They passed from the C Building into the gentle fall sunlight.

"Come on, he's not that bad," Pieter said. "Look, it's just one night. The guy's never had a girlfriend. Barely a date, even. I wanted to, you know, help him out."

"Pieter..." They'd been together for twenty-eight days. It seemed a bit soon for this kind of thing.

"Look, if it's a train wreck, you and me can hang out after." He stroked a hand through her hair—black with brown highlights. "The worst dates always make the best stories, right?"

They walked down one of South Obispo High's countless staircases and arrived at the old oak, a tree that outdated the school by a couple centuries. Yellow, grassy hills rolled in the distance, and the rocky crag of Bishop's Peak towered just a couple miles away.

She laughed. "Okay, sorry. It's been a long week. Did you know Kristin broke up again?"

Pieter sighed and shook his head, waving back and forth the little gelled spikes of his brown hair. "I thought that was every week."

She smiled. It wasn't far from the truth. "I've been texting her all week. You know how she gets."

Pieter rolled his eyes. "Oh yeah, the whole senior class knows how she gets."

He tugged her arm then sat against the old oak and she sat in his lap. The grass scratched against her calves, but his body was warm, comfortable, welcoming. Against the brown of her legs, his were pale—though hairy.

Pieter slipped his arm around her waist. "It's Friday. Let's just hang out today, okay? Don't worry about tomorrow night."

A couple girls came by and waved to Pieter. He waved back. Vero leaned back harder against her boyfriend.

"So...do I have to find someone for him?"

"Vero, Vero, please. Have a little faith."

"So who's the lucky girl?"

"Gloria. Gloria Stone. You know her?"

"Name sounds familiar."

"We've been in classes together since like kindergarten or something. Nicest girl I've ever met...met but not dated, that is. She's had a rough life."

She sounded as desperate a case as Neil. "Can't really say no to that, can I?"

Vero leaned against a mailbox planted in the cement of the sidewalk. Overhead, the sky changed to dark blue as the sun painted a few last wispy clouds pink. Streetlights flipped on. Behind her, a happy family enjoyed the clean interior of a San Luis Obispo home. She sighed.

About halfway between Los Angeles and San Francisco, SLO was definitely an improvement over Bakersfield and the Central Valley. Here, grassy hills created a matchless scenery that enfolded the small town. Parks and trails spread around the city, and the beach was about fifteen minutes down the highway. People joked how Oprah had once named it the happiest town in America. It had flawless weather, people were friendly, and the neighborhoods were safe. Vero missed nothing about her old hometown—except her friends.

Last spring had been the perfectly wrong time to move. If she were still back in Bakersfield, she'd be starting off her senior year with friends she'd known since forever. Instead, her old boyfriend dumped her about a week after she moved away, and she had to start from scratch. She'd gotten lucky and hit it off with a few well-connected friends—Kristin and Carrie. And of course, somehow, she was now dating Pieter. Still, these white kids in idyllic SLO didn't understand the world of heat and dirt she'd grown up in.

A white two-door Toyota with a dent in the bumper and a scrape across the driver's side pulled around the corner. Pieter had gotten it for his eighteenth birthday. His dad, a physics professor at Cal Poly SLO, tended toward expensive presents. It seemed like his way of competing with Pieter's mom for their son's affection.

"Hola, chica," Pieter called from behind an open window. It was about the extent of his Spanish, despite two years. He smiled that smile that never seemed to leave his lips.

Her dark thoughts and doubts vanished like a thin mist. "Hey."

"Hop on in the White Lady."

She opened the door and climbed inside.

He did a U-turn. "You know, you don't have to wait outside. Your mom's not that bad."

Vero shook her head. "No, no, it's fine. I wasn't waiting long."

He stared as though wanting to say more, as though he suspected something. Or maybe it was just the length of her skirt. He stayed quiet as they drove. Wind whipped through the windows, but Vero smelled a faint aroma of weed.

"You nervous or something?" she asked.

"Nah, tonight'll be great." His voice faltered. "It's just that Steve's in town."

"Steve..."

"My brother."

"Oh, right. Steve."

"He showed up today and tried staying with Mom. She turned him down, for once."

"And now?"

"He's somewhere."

His car idled at a red light. She put her hand on his on top of the gear shift and squeezed sympathetically.

"I'm just tired of him—the games, the using people, the whole mess of his life." He turned his head down and shook it. "Anyways, I'm glad to be getting out tonight."

They pulled into a little strip mall on a corner and and parked in front of a hole-in-the-wall called Thai This. Vero stepped out and glanced around. "You see them?"

Pieter pulled out his phone, then laughed.

"What?"

He showed her the screen. It read, I can hav grl in car! grl!

A teal Honda cautiously turned into a nearby spot. Neil climbed out in a light-blue, button-down shirt and black slacks. He almost—almost—looked classy. Except for those white tennis shoes.

Gloria stepped out of the passenger's side. She wore jeans and a sweater. Not a classy sweater—a hoodie. Her hair, at least, was nice—black and falling about to her shoulders. She followed a few steps behind Neil. She looked familiar—from somewhere or another.

Vero gave Neil a friendly hug. "Good to see you again!"

Neil's body went rigid. "H-Hi. Good to see you too, Veronica."

Gloria stepped back—clearly out of hugging range. "I'm Gloria."

"Vero," Vero said, hoping that someday, Neil would get the idea that the only time Veronica was used was by teachers on the first day of class. She finally figured out where she knew Gloria from. "We have sixth period together, don't we?"

Gloria nodded. "Um, yeah."

Silence descended. Vero smiled at Gloria. Gloria looked up into the twilight. Pieter grabbed Vero's hand. She squeezed his. What had he been thinking?

Neil finally spoke up. "Anyways, sorry being late. We had a bad pull, and it took a while to escape."

In response to whatever he was talking about, Vero could only mutter a vague, "Huh?"

"Oh, sorry, that probably didn't make much sense for you non-gamer types." The words sprayed from his mouth faster and faster. "That's WoW. World of Warcraft. I'm the raid leader for the Army of Pwn. We got in some trouble, and it took a while for me to get us out."

Pieter walked toward the restaurant, practically dragging Vero. "Hey, let's get some Thai food, okay?"

They always made the best stories, later.

## 2. The Rift

James tightened the grip on his axe's handle and watched an orb of light bounce up and down above the head of the hooded figure in front of him. It provided just enough light to see what the itching in James's legs confirmed—they were walking through tall grass. A sheer black expanse spread overhead; the empyrean was far from dawning.

Dirk walked at James's side, hand on his sheathed sword. "You trust him?"

"No," James replied. Of all the people in the world, why did their guide have to be him? "But the king does. That will have to do."

A small cut on his thigh, though sealed, still ached. Their guide either hadn't been able to or hadn't wanted to heal it completely. His body ached in exhaustion from days of travel by foot through the wilderness, and his heart ached for friends he would never see again. All to reach this place. He shifted the weight of the heavy pack on his back.

"This is as far as I go with you," the hooded figure said. He pointed straight through a gap between two hills—barely visible in the pitch-black night. "It's about another quarter mile to the rift. A cement slab marks it. Eight men guard the site. Half will be asleep in the nearby village. One is highlander, the rest wildians. They're not Terian's finest."

"He's rather casual in guarding the key to this war," Dirk said.

James removed a small golden corkscrew from the pocket inside his shirt. "He doesn't know about this."

The hooded figure stared at the object. "That..."

"The king himself made it," James said, slipping it back into his shirt and buttoning the pocket.

"His highness?" the hooded figure said. "Then, will it work?"

James stared into the darkness. "It had better."

"We could use your help," Dirk said. "We'll make sure no one escapes to tell."

"It was risk enough to come this far with you," the hooded man said.

"At the orders of his highness," James said.

"Yes, of course." The figure stopped and gave a chuckle, barely audible. "I live and die at his pleasure. But he has more use for me in my current position than as your nanny."

He turned to walk away.

"Wait." James kept his voice low. "I'm...I'm sorry about my careless words. You're a greater hero than all of us, though no one realizes it." He paused. "But if this is a trap, may the Light forsake you."

"It wouldn't be alone in doing so," the figure said. His little light orb followed him into the darkness.

"Careless words?" Dirk asked.

"We used to be friends, you know. Sons of senators. When he joined Terian, my words turned his own parents against him, and they disowned him. I had no idea that he was on our side—there behind enemy lines."

"Well, the plan?" Dirk asked.

James looked up at one of the nearby hills and squinted. The pale light of an electric lantern rested on top. The faint sound of laughter rolled down to him.

"Climb the back of the hill, but stay hidden. Don't activate your armor. When I open the rift, that will distract them. Hit them from behind."

Dirk shrugged. "See you in the Shadowlands?"

"And remember, I'm still moving a bit slow from the last fight."

"You make it sound like I need your help."

James walked with a soft step through the dry grass, crawling on his belly the last quarter mile. His pack dug terribly into his back. In the thick darkness, his only sense of direction came from the light of the enemy's position on the hill. As he crawled, he hoped sincerely that he didn't end up spending the next day digging ticks out of his skin. Were there ticks in the Shadowlands?

He finally felt the edge of the slab. Good, because there would be no other way to spot the rift in the darkness. In the daylight, they said it appeared as a slight distortion in the air, as though peering through warped glass.

Axe still in hand, James set down his pack and crawled onto the slab. On top of the hill, four men sat in chairs around a little lamp. The tall highlander's skin glowed pale in the light. The three wildians were brown-skinned and much shorter, rough stubble covering their faces. They surrounded a wooden keg and wore casual—sloppy—shirts and pants. James reached into his pocket and removed the small golden corkscrew.

He took a deep breath then whispered the activation words. "A bottle for new friends."

It shook in his hand, and he he released it. It floated up and fixed itself midair, then burst into a steady golden glow and let out a low hum. James's eyes burned with the sudden light.

Up on the hill, four silver lights ignited: the guards, activating their soul armors. They rose from their chairs, and a voice shouted, "What just happened?"

James set his axe down, stood, and faced the hill with empty hands. Lying often solved life's problems. "I'm here from Terian to perform a new test on the rift."

A moment of silence. One of them replied, "James? Is that you?" The voice was nasally. It dripped with sarcasm.

At the sound of that voice, James picked up his axe. "Jed."

"I never dreamed I'd have the chance to kill you with my own hands."

Jed. Here, of all places. "I assure you that seeing your hideous face is an unexpected pleasure to me, as well."

A fifth silver light rushed up behind them. And that would be Dirk.

James concentrated on the metal band around his arm, the fire of Diotein. With an audible pop, burning energy flowed into his limbs, and the earlier weariness vanished. He swung his axe toward the hill, and a small orb of fire launched from the blade. Jed stood his ground and batted it away with his sword. The fireball collided with a young oak tree, which snapped and popped as it burst into flames.

James leaped toward the fight and felt the rush of air through his hair. Up top, Dirk drove straight into Jed and the wildians, keeping them off balance, keeping them from rushing him at the same time.

James landed hard halfway up the hill, the cut on his thigh roaring in pain. He ran toward the top. The light of both the fire and the king's spell reflected from his blade. He went straight for Jed.

"Your sister..." Jed stepped to the side of James's axe. "Rang me up the other day."

James parried and tried to ignore that sickening voice. As he dodged a spear thrust from one of the wildians, he swung for Jed—trying to maintain the advantage of attacking. Outnumbered, if he fell into the trap of becoming defensive, he would die. Jed was a traitor, a coward, and a terrible swordsman. James should have lopped off a limb by now, but the fatigue of the last few days weighed on him.

"She said she missed my caresses," Jed said. "I replied that I didn't miss her smell."

Fury boiled in James's ears. Putting both hands on his axe, he lunged for Jed—and missed, finding himself off balance. The wildian's spear found his stomach. Stupid to fall for that...Jed's taunts were the only weapon he had any real skill with. Agony, burning agony, followed the exit of the weapon.

Jed laughed. "Always the temper."

James leaped back. Down at the rift, an enormous corkscrew of golden light twisted in the air, its hum now a low roar. In that bright display, a huge mid-air distortion—the rift itself—became visible. Atop the hills, the fire had spread from the oak to the dry, surrounding grass.

James kept a few paces between himself and his opponents with a swing of the axe, trying to stay on the offensive. Dirk pierced one of the wildians through the chest. But before he could remove the sword, his other assailant swung a mace at him. Dirk released his weapon and dodged. The mace hit a rock and shattered it into a thousand pieces. Twisting around, Dirk slid his sword out of the first wildian's body. Ah, when Dirk fought, it was like watching a skilled dancer.

Jed's eyes darted to his fallen ally. Immediately, he spun around and took a huge leap for the base of the hill. "Hold them!" he shouted from midair.

"He's going for the other guards," James said.

"I know," Dirk replied. He blocked a mace blow aimed for his head.

The two last wildians fought hard, but they were young. They knew how to fight, but they didn't know how to fight with soul armors. They were still in that phase of awe at their strength and speed, the feeling of invincibility. It made them overconfident, sloppy. Even with the agony in his stomach, James held his opponent at bay. But Jed had escaped.

Dirk cut down the wildian with the mace. The one fighting James threw down his weapon. "I surrender."

Dirk raised his sword.

"Stop," James said. "He's just a wildian. Who knows his real reasons for joining the rebellion?"

The short man fell prostrate. "Please, I have a wife and six children."

Dirk spat on the ground. "You're barely twenty."

"One child," the man corrected.

James held his axe to the man's throat. "Surrender your armor."

"They'll kill me."

Dirk wiped his sword in the dead grass. "Them or us. We'll at least make it quick."

The glow around the man went dark. He unclasped a silver band from his upper arm and handed it to James. His body quaked. Tears formed in his eyes.

James turned the metal over in his hand a few times. It felt lifeless, a dead hunk of metal. "You killed it," James said.

The man nodded. James tossed the band onto the ground.

Dirk leaned down and picked it up. "Disenchanted or not, those materials are priceless."

Friend against friend, families divided...this war was so bitter. And these, the wildians, so many innocent but for Terian's influence, suffered most. If they took the soul armor, this man would likely be executed for his negligence. "Leave it," James said.

Dirk stared at him for a moment, then stood and sheathed his sword. They walked down the hill. Behind them, the soldier whimpered.

"Why?" Dirk asked. "They'll reforge it."

"Maybe just to prove that we're better than Terian. That for all his rhetoric, he's not 'Defender of the Wildians.'" James faced the churning, gleaming light at the base of the hill. "Besides, it's meaningless on our mission."

"And the other weapons?"

"Disenchanted, by now. All that matters is reaching the Shadowlands."

James kept his hand on the cut. Dirk glanced at him. They didn't need words: James was injured, but he could still walk. The mission would go on. As they reached the base of the hill, the golden light coalesced into a rough circle.

"Is that...did it work?" Dirk asked.

James peered into the circle. A tunnel—just a little shorter than him—stretched forward into nothingness. The walls were cut in a spiraling, corkscrew shape. It extended for maybe a hundred yards. The other end glowed faintly.

"It's open," James said.

"What now?"

"We go through and start our resistance."

"They'll follow. Best if I guard from this side."

"Dirk, it's you against the five of them."

"Yes, but it will only stay open for a few minutes. It'll close, and you'll be safe."

"And you'll die."

Dirk laughed. James would miss that laugh. "So says the man who got speared in the gut by a wildian adolescent."

"Overconfident as always." James slung his pack over his shoulder. "If you can, avenge my sister's chastity on Jed."

"Gladly. Enjoy the Shadowlands."

James turned off his armor. The weight of the pack and his axe tugged him down and the pain in his side roared, but he needed to conserve his armor. He took a deep breath and walked forward.

Warmth radiated from the walls of the tunnel, and his footsteps echoed. About halfway through, he could make out a field on the other side. Tiny points of light hung like jewels in the night sky. Their beauty shocked him.

A young woman's voice came through. "Someone's coming."

## 3. The Field

Pieter held open the door, and Vero and the others walked out. Two smiling Thai men waved them out amid the aromas of curry and garlic. A cold breeze slapped her bare legs. Behind her, Neil laughed. He seemed to think the night had gone well. She eyed Pieter's car like a bank robber eyes the getaway ride.

"All right, where to?" Pieter asked. "Night's still young."

Vero locked on his eyes and begged through her gaze for him to just put this thing out of its misery. He blinked and turned away.

"No preference," Neil said.

"How about you, Gloria?" Pieter asked. "Anywhere you want to go?"

"Oh, anywhere, I guess." Four words, about as many as she spoke during the dinner.

"No, come on," he said. "Any favorite spots?"

Gloria paused and looked at each of them in turn. "Well, there's the bike path near here."

Pieter blinked. "Bike path?"

"You know, the one by the railroad tracks. It's quiet. I like walking it sometimes."

"Sounds good," Pieter said. "Vero?"

No, they needed to part ways, right now. Besides, what kind of hangout was a bike path? It was probably a good place to get mugged. Though, that was her upbringing in the Central Valley. Even the sketchy parts of SLO were safe compared to where she used to live. And Pieter still seemed to have hope for the night. He was the eternal optimist—even in their short time together, she knew that about him. She didn't want to ruin his matchmaker groove.

"Sure," she said, a little too cheery. "Sounds great!"

They walked out of the shopping center and around the corner. Some condos rose in the distance. Unlike most of the housing in SLO—single story and dating back at least half a century—these were modern, skinny, and tall. SLO, far as Vero could tell, had some kind of development war between grandmas wanting to keep it a small town and Cal Poly graduates wanting to start businesses and build new homes like those.

On the right, they passed an empty lot with a large For Sale sign. Trees surrounded the lot on three sides, and a creek bed ran between it and the shopping center. The creek was silent after the long, rainless summer.

"You see that?" Gloria asked.

Vero glanced over and noticed some flickering light toward the back of the lot. A group of trees hid the source.

"Probably some homeless," Neil said.

"No, they wouldn't light a fire where people would notice." Pieter pointed to the condos.

The light vanished.

"And a fire wouldn't just vanish like that," Pieter said. "Let's check it out."

Pieter—usually a social genius who created a great time for everyone—seemed to be having a really off night. Bike path? Sketchy empty field? Vero shook her head. "Umm, go check out a homeless camp? No."

"Oh, come on," Pieter said. "This is SLO. The homeless population is actually quite friendly, though grungy."

Gloria stood there and shook her head. It was the sort of head shake that communicated, guys, this is a stupid idea. She opened her lips as though to speak, then closed them.

Vero planted her feet firmly on the sidewalk. "Pieter, I am not going in that field,"

"Come on," Pieter said. "I'll keep you safe. And Neil's secretly a ninja, you know."

Neil rolled his eyes. "Sure, just because I'm Japanese, that means I emerge from the womb with a katana. Pieter, that joke got old in middle school."

Pieter grabbed Vero's hand and began to walk into the field.

"Pieter..."

He kept walking until her arm pulled taut. From the time he had first asked her out, Vero knew that with Pieter, she'd wind up in some impulsive, bizarre situations. That field didn't seem appealing, but he sure did. He turned and gave a friendly grin; his tug dragged her forward. Neil followed. Gloria trailed wordlessly, still shaking her head.

The hard, dry dirt crunched beneath Vero's step. It was dark, but the moon and some lights across the street illuminated enough to show forms and shapes. They rounded a cluster of trees and walked toward where the light had vanished. The plants concealed them from the street.

"Why are we doing this, again?" Vero asked. A dry branch scratched her calf.

Pieter squeezed her hand. "Come on, you really want to end up walking down a bike path?" In other words, a last-ditch effort to salvage the date.

"Does Pieter really need a reason for the things he does?" Neil asked. "In seventh grade, I briefly started a whole branch of science to answer that question. In the end, the conclusions reached—"

Neil's speech stopped abruptly, and as though shoved from the front, he fell onto his backside with an "Ack!"

"You all right there?" Pieter asked.

Neil stared at the empty air in front of him. "I...I ran into something."

Pieter stared at the empty space. "Watch out for those air molecules, they can be mean in a gang."

Something floating in the air caught Vero's attention. She moved toward it, and it became a...a tunnel. The inside looked like rock, but it cut straight into the air. She moved her head around to the back, and she couldn't see anything.

"Come around this side," she said.

Neil came around. "What in the world? How is this..." He reached forward and touched the inner edge. "It's some kind of optical illusion. It's...invisible from the back. The back—that's what I ran into."

Vero stared straight into the tunnel. It was a bit taller than her and went back a few hundred feet. At least, it looked like it went for a few hundred feet, but that was impossible; they'd have seen it earlier. A dark silhouette in the shape of a man stumbled through it. On the far side, a fire burned.

She pointed down the...the whatever it was. "Someone's coming."

## 4. James

For the first time in years, Vero considered the reality of Hell. This dark tunnel with fire on the far end sure looked like the entrance to it. The silhouetted man stooped in the tunnel, which put him well over six feet. One hand held his stomach, the other a backpack.

Vero stepped back. She'd have run, but Pieter held her hand. The same quality that compelled him to explore empty fields kept him from doing the smart thing and dashing for his car. In most people, she'd call it bravery. In Pieter, stupidity. Gloria—without the encumbrance of a boyfriend—backed slowly toward the street.

The man emerged into the moonlight. His clothing looked...well, a bit formal. Not quite what she expected for a creature crawling out of Hell. Metal buttons fastened his long-sleeve shirt together down the front, and a dark stain spread across that shirt from near where he held his hand. An axe blade peeked over his back. Vero ripped her hand free of her boyfriend and took two steps in the direction of the road.

"We'd take you to our leader, but the Secret Service probably wouldn't let us get close." Pieter's face had that half-serious, half-sarcastic look that she'd come to both love and hate. The curve of the lips always made her sure he was joking, but the tone of voice and the intent gaze of his eyes left enough room for doubt that she was never quite sure what her boyfriend was really up to.

"I don't catch your meaning," the figure said. The English flowed smoothly, and his pronunciation was American. His voice sounded almost...gentle. And his face seemed almost kind, though he was tensed in some kind of pain. Definitely not demon material. Though still ready to bolt if needed, Vero relaxed—just slightly.

Maybe this was some kind of science experiment or secret technology. But if someone had invented a teleporter or something, no way would it dump someone in an empty field in SLO. That left, what...aliens or something? What was going on?

Pieter gave a little bow. "Forgive me for not introducing myself. I am Pieter Walters the Third, king of Emptyfield. Here is my queen, Veronica Mendoza. And this is my loyal chambermaid, Neil Matsumoto with his mistress, Gloria Stone."

Neil raised an eyebrow. "Chambermaid?"

The figure appeared dumbfounded. "King? Then...you're aware of this place? The rift? How did you know to be here tonight?"

Pieter waved his hand as though tossing something behind his back. "Details, details. Your name, first, fair traveler?"

"James. James Weatherton. Your...Highness."

Reality TV. That might explain it. Maybe they were simulating that tunnel with mirrors...or something. If anyone could do that, Hollywood could.

"Does that tunnel lead to another world?" Neil's voice had a bright, hopeful tone. "Or just somewhere else on earth?"

James stared at him. "Who are you all, really?"

"King of this plot," Pieter replied. "Do not question me again. We came here in answer to the prophecy."

James's jaw dropped open. "Prophecy?"

"Of course," Pieter said. For an instant, Vero believed him. Except for that stupid grin. "Now, tell us, yon traveler from another world, why hast thou cometh?"

James stared at Pieter for a moment with a bewildered look. "I apologize for my appearance, Your...uh...Your Highness." He bowed his head—barely. Half a smile curled up on his lips. "But I'm here with a warning for your world. I need sanctuary. Will you help me?"

"Oh, totally," Pieter said.

Gloria stepped forward. "You're hurt." Between Pieter's sarcasm and Neil's weird excitement, she was the only one who seemed to really notice that this man was wounded. "Do you need an ambulance?"

"A what?"

"An, uh...a doctor."

A voice echoed from the tunnel in a nasally, singsong voice. Vero heard something like James's name—it sounded more like "Jamasu"—but she couldn't understand the other words.

"We have to go," James said. He stepped away from the tunnel.

"I don't think you should be moving with that cut," Gloria said.

He looked at her, his eyes wide and wild. "The man coming through that portal is the one who gave me this cut."

Pieter shrugged. "Well, into the bushes, shall we?"

He headed for the dry creek. To Vero, it seemed like a better idea to run the opposite direction from James. She stood still for a moment. Gloria was beside her.

"That man's really hurt," Gloria said.

"You coming with?" Vero asked.

Gloria glanced across the field. Her voice trembled. "I don't want to run off by myself. Not if there's more of them coming through."

Pieter waved to Vero to follow. That wave made up her mind. "Let's stick with the others," she said. "Look, it's probably some TV show or something. Just...keep your head low. Don't say anything dumb, yeah?"

She and Gloria jogged to the edge of the bushes. James stepped inside.

"This is so awesome," Neil said.

"You think this is a game?" Vero snapped.

He turned to her. "Maybe. Could be LARPers. But either way, we're neutral. James is the one they're after, not us. But man, if this is real, this is the coolest thing that's ever happened to me." He ducked into the bushes.

Turned out Neil was mildly insane. Or else...No. He was in on it. He and Pieter. Some kind of joke. That made way more sense than anything else. Only, Pieter didn't seem smart enough to engineer that tunnel...thing. Maybe Neil had.

Pieter ducked under a big branch, followed by Gloria. Vero stared into the blackness.

"Come on, pretty girl," her boyfriend said.

Those bushes did not look very appealing. "But maybe...maybe there's ticks and stuff in there."

James groaned.

The nasally voice called from the tunnel, louder this time. Given the option between meeting whoever that guy was and going into the bushes, Vero opted for the bushes. The crackly branches scratched her on the way in.

"Having fun yet?" Pieter whispered.

"Did you come up with this?" Vero asked.

"Nah. You think I could make something that sophisticated?"

"Then how? What? Prophecy?"

James stood near enough to hear their conversation, but he gave no reaction.

Pieter chuckled. "Thanks. I thought the prophecy was a nice touch, don't you think? Anyways, this is way more interesting than some bike trail. But if it gets sketchy, we bail."

He didn't consider this sketchy? Vero leaned against a thick branch and stared at his silhouette. Unbelievable.

Though, given what Vero knew of him, his reaction seemed about right. The only thing she'd seen him serious about—sometimes—was their relationship. Usually, she loved that humor. It was how he first stuck out from everyone else at school. But right now, she wanted to strangle him.

Two men stepped from the tunnel and into the moonlight. A tall one, pale-skinned like James, held a sword. The other, short and dark-skinned, walked with a slight slouch. He held some kind of club. It looked metal.

"Jed..." James whispered. He glanced at the four of them and sighed. "I should have jumped away before they came through."

The tall one—Jed—called out some incomprehensible words—though James's name was at the end.

James—uncertainty and fear on his face—turned to Pieter. "Are you sure you'll help me?"

"So sure," Pieter whispered.

Opening a button on his backpack, James muttered to himself, nearly too faint to hear, "This is a bad idea."

Without a word, the little guy leaped straight up. Vero gasped as she lost sight of him through the trees.

"Ignore them," James whispered. He pulled a large metal band—like an enormous bracelet—from his backpack. Through the bushes, a stray beam of light fell on it, and it gleamed like silver. "Don't let these fall into their hands, whatever happens." He handed the bracelet to Pieter. "Slide that on your arm."

Pieter turned it over in his hand. "Oh? What is it?"

"It's a soul armor," James said, pulling a metal rod out of the pack.

The short one landed, about where he'd jumped from. He said something to Jed in a low voice. He...Vero must have just lost sight of him. He couldn't possibly have been in the air that long.

"Soul armor, great." Pieter slid the band nearly up to his shoulder. "Totally explains it."

James pulled on the rod, flipped it over, and pulled again. With each tug, it grew. It had to be some kind of telescoping rod. That'd explain how it could be growing like that. Yet with every weird occurrence—the tunnel, the jump, now this—that fear in Vero's stomach got worse and worse. After finishing his tugging and pulling, James gave Pieter the finished product—a sword.

He handed Neil a belt with a large metal buckle and told him to put it around his waist. Neil did so with the enthusiasm of a kid tearing into Christmas presents. James expanded another rod into some kind of club with a circle of rigid flaps at the top.

The two men searched the perimeter of the field.

"It that a mace?" Neil asked.

James nodded. "The soul armor will give you unimaginable strength once activated. That's how they're so strong, able to jump so high. Concentrate on the band—just not yet." As he spoke, he pulled on another small rod. "They'll see you as soon as you turn it on. The weapon and band work together."

Vero watched as this one extended into a large stick. But no, it wasn't like a telescoping pole. It didn't have parts that fit inside of other parts, it was simply growing. He handed the stick to Gloria along with a thin metal band.

"Gloria," James whispered. "Put that band under your clothing, on your chest—it needs to press against your heart."

Gloria took the stick and band. "Uh...no." She buckled the band around her chest—just above her breasts.

"That one won't work, not through your clothing."

She backed deeper into the bushes. "Look, I'm not taking off my shirt..."

James ignored her and faced out toward the field. Jed was stomping toward them, whacking bushes with his sword, a bored look on his face.

"Listen," James said. "Once I go to fight, focus on those bands. You'll feel their strength welling up inside you. Then come and help me. I don't think I can beat them alone."

"Umm, come again?" Neil asked.

"Wait a few moments, then concentrate on the armors. Come, Mr. Matsumoto. You seem like a noble man just waiting for a real challenge in this life."

"I..."

The taller man, Jed, moved close enough to hear them. Neil shut up.

James took a deep breath. As he did, a slight gust—from his direction—slapped into Vero. He seemed more alert, standing straighter, less focused on his wound. He gripped his axe and leaped from the bushes, straight toward Jed.

## 5. Soul Armors

For a fleeting instant, Vero hoped that James and Jed would turn and shout "April Fool's" or something to that effect, and this would all end in laughter. Instead, he brought his axe down—just as Jed spun around and raised his sword in defense. A metallic screech echoed into the night. Something in the ferocity of that screech and the fury on Jed's face confirmed that they really were trying to kill each other.

"Pieter...what do we do?" Vero asked.

"Rush in and save the day." He held his sword high.

She grabbed him by the arm. "Cut the stupid act."

James pressed forward, keeping Jed off balance with blow after blow.

"Haven't you tried what James said?" Neil asked. "Don't you feel this thing? It's incredible." Neil didn't look any different.

Another gust hit Vero from Pieter's direction.

"Whoa, no way." For the first time since Vero had met him—maybe the first time in his life—Pieter sounded genuinely shocked. "I...wait...this..."

Neil nodded to Pieter. "You're glowing."

Vero saw no glow. She peeked through the bushes. Jed was stumbling after blocking another blow. James reached back with his axe, and it seemed the battle was over. The short one, though: He dashed in from the right—with speed like an Olympic sprinter—and slammed his mace into James, square in the ribs. James flew in an arc across the field, landed hard, and didn't get up.

"This thing's...angry," Neil said. "It wants to get involved, wants to fight. Don't you feel it, Pieter?"

"I...I don't know." Pieter turned from the fight to Neil, then back to the fight. "This is all just...look, let's get out of here."

Jed and the short guy sauntered over to James. Jed said something in their incomprehensible language. He sounded sarcastic.

"The man said our world's in danger." Neil pointed his mace out on the field. "And he's about to get killed."

"A little naive, there?" Pieter asked.

"Naive? Naive? He walked out of an interdimensional portal."

Pieter peeked toward the fight. "Running for our cars sounds like a safer bet."

"You idiot, follow me!" With that, Neil dashed out of the bushes. A little insane? No, Neil was completely insane. Pieter hesitated.

"Don't," Vero whispered.

She didn't know whether he heard her or not. He muttered, "idiot," then charged out of the bushes.

Vero turned to Gloria. "And you?"

"I'm...I'm strong. It's such a weird feeling. But I'm not a fighter."

Neil swung his mace at the short guy. His enemy turned casually, and the blow missed. He didn't seem worried. Rather, curious. Pieter attacked Jed with the finesse of a six-year-old playing tag. Jed flicked his blade, sending Pieter's swing to the side.

"Shadowlanders?" Jed shouted. "You gave armors to Shadowlanders?" And why was he speaking flawless English now? Was it because Pieter and Neil had come out? Jed nodded to the short one. "Dek, take care of fatty, there."

Out of the corner of her eye, Vero saw James beckoning her with his finger. He then pointed to his axe. Oh, no. He wanted her to take it.

"Vero?" Gloria asked.

It wouldn't be hard to scramble over the dry creek and run to the shopping center. Or to just pull out her phone and call the police. Except that by the time they got there, her boyfriend—her stupid, impulsive boyfriend—would be dead.

Vero shoved aside the bushes and dashed across the field. She knelt next to James.

"Take it," he whispered. "The band on my arm. The axe. Diotein, axe of fire." He turned his head to his weapon. "Serve her well, old friend. Your new master..."

Vero found the metal band on his upper arm, opened a clip to widen it, and slid it off. She put it on, clipped it tight, and picked up the axe. The hot metal of its handle nearly scalded her.

"Focus on the armband," James said. "Feel it against your skin. The smoothness and hardness of the metal, the heat."

"You're serious? Something will happen?"

He nodded.

She concentrated on the awkward piece of jewelry around her upper arm. It felt warm...no, hot. Hot like the school blacktop on a summer day or like soup not ready to sip or like an open oven belching out wave after wave of heat.

And something flared to life. An inferno roared inside her. A burning, passionate blaze. She felt anger, rage. This thing, Diotein, screamed for the blood of the two men that Neil and Pieter were fighting. Her body became lighter, and the axe...it felt like part of her—almost like another limb.

And her vision—she saw that glowing Neil had mentioned. Each of the combatants had a faint light over part of their body: silver on Pieter's arm and Neil's waist. Jed and Dek, too. And the tunnel shone like a small sun. Brilliant golden lines twisted and moved inside of it. It was as though an entire world had been hiding, invisible until this moment.

"Go," James moaned. "They need you."

She stood. Neil faced Dek, but he stayed at a distance. After the failure of his initial burst of action, the overweight gamer seemed afraid to attack. Pieter stood opposite Jed, sword wobbling in his hands.

Vero ran to help her boyfriend. Her feet seemed to glide along the ground. She'd never run so fast in her life. She chopped at Jed. He blocked—barely—but she swung again, again, again. The fury, the power...James was in it, somehow, as though some memory of him remained in the armor. None of her blows hit home, but Jed no longer looked amused. Pieter stood at a distance—maybe from fear, maybe because he was afraid to hit her by accident.

Jed jumped straight up. Vero craned her neck to see. He made it twenty or thirty feet into the air and came down swinging.

She leaped to the side, and he sliced the dirt.

Pieter stabbed, missed. "Stay off my girl."

Jed countered, and Pieter—his face desperate and afraid—managed to block just in time.

"Oh, you'll end up telling her to stay off," Jed said.

Pieter held his sword forward, eyes fixed on Jed. "You're funny. Too bad I have to kill you." Kill? Was that Pieter talking or the soul armor?

Vero whipped her head around to check on Neil. His mace had stuck itself in the dirt after a missed swing. Gloria stood at his side, shaking, holding her stick like a baseball bat. So, she'd decided to come help after all. Her glow was really, really faint. Their opponent still didn't look worried.

A light went out to Vero's left. Where the tunnel had been, a faint afterglow remained.

Jed's mouth dropped open. "What happened?"

James's voice drifted over the field. "The portal's closed, Jed. Enjoy the Shadowlands."

A look of contempt washed across Jed's face. Vero and Pieter rushed forward together. And as Jed slapped Pieter's sword aside, Vero found her opening. She axed him in the side. His blood sprayed into the grass.

He leaped back a few feet and put a hand against the cut, the other still holding his sword forward. "Shadowlanders...your deaths will entertain me. Until my king opens that portal, I have nothing to do but to kill each and every one of you. Slowly." He shouted to his companion, "Dek, jump!"

As Jed leaped, Vero swung at him and almost managed to remove a foot. But she'd been just an instant too late.

"Let's get 'em!" Vero said. She crouched.

"Wait!" Her boyfriend reached forward.

She pushed against the ground with all her strength and launched skyward. As she cleared the trees, she gasped. The sparkling lights of the town spread in every direction. The glowing silver and gold of Jed and Dek were just ahead.

Only, they kept going up, and Vero reached the top of her jump and plummeted. She fell into a bunch of trees and bushes and landed on her side, the wind knocked out of her.

She stayed still, wondering what she'd just done to her body. Yet nothing hurt. She stood—still no pain. She stepped out of the undergrowth and tromped back to the pale light of the field. She looked over her body, expecting to find her skirt and top torn to shreds. But they weren't. Apparently, this thing even strengthened her clothing.

Pieter thrust his arms around her and held tight. He leaned in, his lips slid over hers, and...and they kissed. First time. She opened her mouth for more.

Pieter pulled his head back. "You're hot."

"Thanks."

He unwrapped his arms from her. "No, I mean, your skin is like lava. I think my lips are burned..."

"Maybe the armor?" Vero asked.

"But totally worth it."

Neil called from across the field. "Hey lovers, got a minute?"

They walked back to James. His chest rose and fell in an uneven, labored motion. Blood oozed from where the mace had struck him. Vero gagged.

Gloria knelt next to him. She ran both hands across her scalp. "Oh, this is...I'm calling an ambulance."

"Wait," James said, breathing heavily. "Not yet. I need to talk to you. You need..."

"Can this save you? If I give it to you?" Vero asked, holding her axe forward.

"Not...not now. Too late. And I won't chance dying with it on. It'll...kill the armor. Though Gloria, your staff is a healer, once you learn to use it. Better than any in this world. Now, listen, you kids are..."

"Kids?" Pieter asked. "What happened to 'Your Highness?'"

"I needed you to play along, so I played along." James gave a slight grin—then his face spasmed in pain. "You're my resistance."

"Resistance?" Pieter asked.

"I come from another realm, another world...Ruach. Those men are soldiers of Prince Terian. He tried to kill his younger brother, Justin, and now he's rebelled against his father, the good king Rolland. Terian wants the throne."

"Isn't it his, as elder?" Neil asked. "Though, maybe in your world..."

"He lost his inheritance for trying to kill his brother," James said. "And now he's looking to your world to strengthen his side."

"And how are we supposed to do that?" Vero asked.

"Resources," James said. "He needs precious metals and gems to make soul armors. He outnumbers us, but he needs arms to win the war. He's uniting the wildians. The wildians, like the soldier with Jed. They're primitive but numerous. More than my people, the highlanders."

"How do you even know we have the resources you need?" Neil asked.

James closed his eyes. "We've watched you for a century, but we've never been able to come here. I'm the first. This place, the rift, is a weak place in the veil between our worlds. The king—Rolland—made a spell to open it and create a tunnel to this place. But the rift is in Terian's territory. Three of my friends died coming here. One stayed behind. I don't think we'll be able to reach it again. Terian is close to finding a way to open it...and he'll come to conquer."

"So you want us to fight an army?" Neil asked.

"No." James took a shallow breath. "Annoy them. Slow them down. The war's fierce. Terian can't spare so many men. Please..." He coughed, a fresh convulsion of pain passing over his body.

Vero didn't speak. If not for feeling the armor's power flowing through her, she wouldn't have believed any of this. But she'd just jumped over a line of trees. That made things a lot more believable. But believing did not mean she was about to commit to do what this man wanted.

"Your soul armors...you hold the weapons of my fellow knights who died coming here. They are some of the strongest soul armors ever forged. Created by Duncan."

"Who?" Vero asked.

"Sorry, my...mind, mind is...Duncan. Duncan. The royal smith. Created the first soul armor. He made these." He lifted a finger and pointed to Pieter. "That is Croga, the sword of resolve. Neil, your mace, Reitach...means bravery. Gloria, Gloria. Kind and beautiful. But hurting. You deserve better than your life has given you. For you, the strongest, Nadur, the staff of nature. Those weapons..."

James coughed. Then coughed again. And again. Vero watched uncomfortably, unsure what to do.

When he spoke again, it was slower. "Jed...kill him, for my sake. He'll show you no mercy for humiliating him tonight."

"I'll call the ambulance," Gloria said.

She tried to stand, but James took her hand. "Thank you...sweet Gloria. You remind me so much of...." With a shaking hand, he took a small piece of paper from his pants pocket and handed it to her. "If you ever meet, give her my farewell."

He stared into the distance as he spoke. "There's so much more. Sight. Yes, you'll begin to see..." He gasped a few times, then looked directly up, his eyes opened wide. "Empyrean, can my soul find its way to you from this world? Can I—"

He coughed again, then fell still.

Gloria dialed 911 and started talking to the operator.

"This is bad," Pieter said. "Look, we need to ditch those weapons. Vero, you need to get the blood off yours."

"What?" Vero asked.

He faced her. "What are the cops going to think happened here when they see James dead an us with these weapons?"

Sirens echoed in the distance.

"Why do the SLO police have to be so quick?" Pieter asked. "Neil, can you cook up a good story?"

Neil was still kneeling next to James. "That's always been your job."

Pieter massaged his temples. "Okay, weapons...dead guy...police..." He looked at Neil. "You two don't have blood on you, right? Look, you and Gloria heard noise and decided to check it out. James was dead when you got here. You saw the attackers—Jed and that short guy—but they ran away. Got it?"

Neil nodded. "Yeah."

"And we were never here. Now, gimme your weapons. Vero and I need to be gone."

Pieter and Vero ran for the bushes, carrying two weapons each. Pieter grabbed James's pack from the bushes, and they forded the empty stream and came up in the back of the parking lot. Red-and-blue lights flashed by on the street. Vero stood with the gear for a minute while Pieter brought the car into a shady corner of the strip mall. She tossed everything in the backseat, and he drove off.

Exhaustion hit hard. She felt like she should be wide awake and terrified, but her body began to shut down. She vaguely remembered arriving at home and falling into her warm bed.

##  6. Axe in Room

Dead people had to feel like this.

Vero woke up and lay half-asleep under her blankets, the warm metal band still touching the skin on her upper arm. Her heavy limbs felt attached to the bed by adhesive, and she groaned.

At some point, Isabella got out of her bed and banged around the room a bit. Vero pulled the blankets over her head. Bella always gave her a hard time for making so much noise in the morning. This time, her sister seemed to be enjoying the revenge. Bella pulled a bright-red Panda Express polo shirt over her bulky body, strapped on a bicycle helmet, and left the room, slamming the door on the way out.

Despite the stale odor wafting up from the carpet, despite the chipped paint on the walls and the little gap the window always left when it was closed, this place felt comfortingly normal. Not normal like Pieter or normal like her friends Kristin or Carrie, but normal for Vero. From this room, everything about James and Ruach seemed like a dream.

The three-foot battle axe leaning against her wall disagreed. The handle was smooth steel, and a leather strap, which they'd found in James's pack, covered the blade. A blanket lay mostly draped over it, but someone—Bella, no doubt—had taken a peek. That couldn't be good. Vero should've shoved it in their overstuffed closet, but everything after the blaze of the armor went dark was fuzzy in her memories.

She pushed away the blankets. Her arms swung like rusty hinges. Against the strong protests of her limbs, she stood. She flipped open her phone: 10:14 a.m.

I need you, she texted Pieter.

Vero undressed and removed the armband, wrapped herself in a towel, and walked to the bathroom. She stood under the hot water of the shower and began to wash away the grogginess, along with dirt and dried blood. The water flowed milky and blackish down the drain. How was that much gunk on her body? She'd gone to bed like that? She stood in the warm stream until it went tepid—courtesy of their tiny water heater. After a quick towel dry, she trudged back to her room.

She dressed, then stared down at her new armband. It brought images of a dying James. Take it...Diotein, axe of fire. It was a strange piece of bling: gold surrounded a red gem, maybe a ruby. It was thin, so it wouldn't show under thick sleeves, but most of Vero's clothing wouldn't hide it. She buried the object in the bottom of her purse and plodded to the kitchen.

Gabriella—Vero's second oldest older—sat at the dining room table in the small alcove of their kitchen. Tiny shorts failed to cover her thick thighs, and a bulge of her stomach peeked out from beneath her stained shirt. Beyond the table, a small window showed a sunny day over Tolosa Mobile Home Park, the neighborhood that the rest of SLO hid behind a tall wall and pretended didn't exist. The combined incomes of her mom, Isabella, and Gabriella paid for a decaying, two-room mobile home in "the happiest town in America."

"Te levantaste tarde, ay," Gabriella said.

She wasn't getting up that late. But trust Gabriella to say something. Vero slid a couple pieces of bread into the toaster and grabbed a mug for some instant coffee. She replied in Spanish. "What, I'm not allowed to sleep in?"

Gabriella spoke with her mouth full of off-brand Lucky Charms. "Stay out all night with the boy toy?"

"I wish." Vero pushed the thoughts of James and Jed out of her mind and managed a little laugh. "He brought along a friend of his on a double date. I'm just lucky nobody spotted us."

"Still a better night than mine. Worked till almost midnight."

"How sad."

"By the way, we're hiring."

Vero shuddered. "I think I'll pass."

"Come on, Carlos keeps saying how he'd love his littlest sister-in-law at the shop."

Juggling food service jobs with community college seemed like the next step for Mendoza women after high school. Only Emilia—their oldest sister—had escaped the trap. She'd married a restaurant owner in SLO and now cared for their baby, Maria the second. Vero, for her part, needed to escape this family after graduation. She'd give anything to join her classmates and move somewhere far away and fun for college. But likely, she'd end up like her sisters: reeking of grease every Saturday night.

Gabriella poked her. "Oh, pretty baby Sister. Doesn't have to get a job in high school. Feels so special. So sexy."

The door opened, and Vero's mom, Maria, returned from mass. She was short and wide and wore a crimson dress that contrasted with the faded paint and dull stains on the walls. Her mouth parted into a huge smile.

"How's my girls?" She hugged both of them. "My early riser slept in. What happened with Pieter last night?"

"A mess," Vero said. Her toast popped out. She put it on a plate, buttered it, and started nibbling. "Glad it's over."

"It's over with Pieter?" Her mom sounded hopeful.

"No, I mean, last night's over. He made me hang out with a friend of his."

"And why did you bring home an axe?"

Her mom hadn't been awake when Vero came home. Bella must have said something. "Um...Pieter gave it to me."

"Pieter, what?"

No, she could do better than that. "Well, no, it was this friend of his, Neil. He's like a...a major nerd. It had something to do with a...a video game. What was I supposed to do? He shows up and hands it to me and says it's a gift."

Her mom stared blankly. "You stay away from that kid. He's weird."

Vero would have loved to do exactly that.

Her mom pulled out a chair and sat at the table. "Did I ever tell you what Juan got me our first Christmas?" She had, actually. "A chainsaw. A chainsaw! What's your madre going to do with a chainsaw?"

As she launched into the story, Vero's mind drifted. She'd just lied to her mom. It wasn't a first, but if everything James said were true, she was stepping into a whole new level of deceit. The idea settled at the bottom of her stomach like a cheap cheeseburger.

After breakfast and some sitting around the house, Vero found herself overlooking potholed streets from a cracked plastic chair on the front porch. Pieter still hadn't returned her texts. She called him.

"H-Hello?" He sounded groggy.

"Where you been?"

"Uhn, asleep. What time..." Muffled sounds of movement came through the phone. "Whoa. Twelve thirty?"

"You just wake up?"

"Yeah. Feel like I got hit by a bus."

"Me, too. Get over here," Vero said.

"Gimme a minute. Shower, then...pick you up from your place."

"I'll be out front."

He paused. Did he suspect about her house? "Yeah. Out front, then. See you in twenty."

## 7. Santa Maria Steaks

Vero stood in front of the house around the corner—the one with the mailbox planted in the cement. She paced up and down the street, unable to stand still. What were they supposed to do? Had James really expected that they would fight his war? More importantly, was Jed already looking for them? And did he have a way to find them?

The White Lady pulled up along the curb.

She stepped into the car. "Finally."

"Sorry." Pieter yawned. "Took longer than I thought. You want to go to Carlos's place? I'm starved."

Vero smelled pot on him. She wrinkled her nose and rolled down the window. "Sure. Downtown sounds nice right now."

The car seemed to inch along the road, to get accosted by every red light. She wanted to get out, to hold hands, to embrace, even to just talk about what had happened. Vero moved her hands back and forth from her lap to the window to her sides, her questions a swarm of mosquitoes in her mind.

After shifting gears, Pieter put a hand on her thigh. "Nothing to worry about."

Some of the mosquitoes vanished. "Easy words."

"You prefer hard words? We're completely screwed. Totally, completely screwed. That better?"

She smiled.

They parked on the roof of the downtown parking structure and walked through the lot toward the elevator.

"Pieter, I..."

"Yeah?"

"Last night, I mean, what do we..."

They stopped outside the elevator. It was a gorgeous day. At three stories up, they stood on one of the highest buildings in the city. Downtown looked almost like a forest—so many trees planted in the sidewalks. Bishop's Peak and Mount Madonna towered in the distance, their shadows lengthening along the town. Golden hills surrounded the city, their grasses waiting for winter rains to bring life.

Pieter pulled his arm tight around her waist. "It'll be okay."

She looped an arm around him and rubbed her fingers along the cotton of his shirt. "That mean you have a plan, or..."

"Sure. Enjoy you. Go to school. Graduate. Party during college. Get a killer job. Be happy."

"Umm...so...the whole Ruach thing?"

Pieter's voice sped up. "You hear me agree to a war last night?"

"No."

His fingers rubbed along her hips. "So, where's the fun in a resistance? I could think of about a million better things to do with my time."

"But the prince, Terian..."

"The guy doesn't even know how to get to our world. James opened the portal, not the bad guys. And even if Terian does figure it out, we pay taxes for a reason. Swords and spears against U.S. fighter jets? Good luck."

Vero's breathing slowed. Pieter could face the worst parts of life with a smile. He'd slept all morning while she'd worried. She envied that. "You think it could be that easy?"

"I don't see a reason to make it otherwise, you?"

The tension in her shoulders released. Images of wounds and blood faded. They stood in the warm sunlight for a moment, watching pedestrians make their way around downtown and listening to the gentle busyness of the city.

"You know what happened after we left?" Vero asked.

"Neil texted me. The police took a report, searched the area, then let them leave. Neil and Gloria might get called to testify, but the cops don't even know that the two of us were there. There's nothing to tying us to this thing."

"And James?"

"An ambulance took him away, but you saw him..."

He'd died on another world, far from friends and family. She should feel sad, but relief came instead. James hadn't asked their permission before bursting into their world with all this about a king and a war. Pieter was right: They didn't owe James a thing. She felt a bit guilty about feeling the relief though.

Pieter gave her side a squeeze. "You're quiet. You want to save the world or something?"

"Nope. Not if it's like last night. It didn't seem glamorous like a movie."

"Well, maybe if we had Sony's wardrobe budget..." Despite his words, Pieter didn't wear his usual easy, carefree look.

They took the elevator down and walked a few blocks to a tiny shop with a sign overhead that read Santa Maria Steaks. A glass window faced the street. Somehow, the entire guts of Carlos's restaurant fit in one tiny room behind that window. A few tables on a plaza out front provided the only seating.

"Give me tri-tip!" Pieter bellowed into the ordering window.

"Sandwich or combo plate?" said a young blonde cashier.

A voice came from the kitchen. "Hey, Vero, Pieter!"

Pieter waved. "Carloooos."

Vero's brother-in-law, wearing an apron stained black with years of barbecue residue, walked up to the window. His skin was a dark brown, and he was short and heavy set.

Pieter leaned on the counter. "Don't we get, like, a 10 percent discount for friends and family?"

"Nah, for you guys? Free."

As though Pieter didn't know.

"Sis, you want anything?" Carlos asked.

Vero looked at the menu: pictures of enormous steak sandwiches and BBQ chickens and buttery garlic bread. "Just...you know...a little salad."

Pieter tapped the glass. "And give me a Cactus Cooler."

"A what?" Carlos asked.

"Only the best soda of all time. You get Cactus Cooler on tap, your business will explode! It's so hard to find a good orange soda in this town."

Vero and Pieter sat in the shade at a mesh metal table—the outdoor kind that didn't get cleaned often enough. The blonde girl brought a tray out, and Pieter dug into his beefy sandwich. Vero's side salad was anything but. Diced beef and blue cheese covered the top. She poked the monstrosity with her plastic fork. Was there even lettuce under there?

A million-calorie salad was a problem she could deal with. She exhaled and leaned back in her seat, happy for Pieter in her life. It felt so good to do something simple like watch her boyfriend gorge himself on a tri-tip sandwich to the sound of passing traffic. Even the bearded man digging through the trash just felt...normal.

Pieter took a break from his sandwich to hold her hand with his clean hand. "By the way, sorry to put you through all that last night."

"Hey, you didn't know what'd happen in that field."

"No, I mean the dinner."

"Oh," she laughed. "Yeah, I kinda saw that coming. Just...no more double dates for at least six months, okay?"

He nodded. "Sure. There just...used to be a lot more to Neil than games and anime."

Across the street, two men plummeted from a roof to the sidewalk. Vero gasped. Pieter, facing her, didn't notice. A few people nearby stepped back in shock, but the men landed on their feet. And they had weapons: a mace and a sword.

Impossible, impossible, impossible. That was Jed and Dek. Jed clutched the cut Vero had given him the night before. Dek held...was that a JanSport backpack? It looked new. The two soldiers glanced around.

Vero leaned in and whispered to Pieter, "Pieter, Pieter, they're here."

He grinned. "Oh, who?'"

"Quiet." She began to tremble. "The guys from last night. Across the street. What are they doing here?"

Pieter flicked his head around then turned back to Vero. He stayed quiet, as though thinking.

She shoved her head onto the mesh table, a sticky thing that probably had drunk Cal Poly student barf dried all over it. Had those two tracked them down or something?

"Don't panic, stay hidden," Pieter said in a low voice. He held her elbow.

Vero covered her face with her other arm and peeked out. Jed and Dek looked in their direction, a number of cars passing on the one-way street between. They were looking in Vero's general direction, but she couldn't tell whether or not they were actually looking at her.

And then she realized: she wasn't helpless. "I have my armband in my purse. If I slip it on, we could maybe get on the roofs, and..."

Pieter shook his head and kept his voice low. "You don't think they'd spot that? Chill for now. They're not here for us."

They walked across the street, prompting a momentary traffic jam. But this was SLO. No one honked.

Vero turned her hand and squeezed Pieter's arm. "They're coming."

Pieter ducked his head on the table. "He saw us in the dark. He doesn't recognize us." He seemed to be talking to himself. "There's no way he recognizes us. If he did, I'd already have a sword in my back."

As the two walked onto the sidewalk—just a few feet away—Vero trembled. Pieter squeezed her elbow—almost painfully. Her breath came in gasps. Her hand stretched to her purse.

"Chill," her boyfriend whispered.

She moved her head to peek around Pieter with one eye. Those two weren't looking at her. They walked quickly toward Carlos's shop, passing out of eyesight.

"I see them," Pieter whispered. "They're facing the other way. Let's go. Slow."

The stickiness from the table smacked as Vero pulled her skin away. She lifted her purse, the strap vibrating with the shaking of her hand. Pieter took her arm, and they walked—so slow she wanted to scream—up the street.

Jed shouted, "Give me your dollars! All of them!"

She risked a glance backward before passing around the corner of a brick building. Jed stood at the window to Carlos's shop, pointing his drawn sword at the glass. A number of customers stared. Once out of sight, Vero stopped to listen.

"That a sword?" Carlos asked. "Why you have a sword?"

The sound of shattering glass echoed around the courtyard. The cashier girl screamed.

"Put your dollars in this bag," Jed shouted.

Pieter whispered in Vero's ear. "We need to get out of here."

"We're just going to walk away?"

He tugged her arm. "Nothing we can do. Even if we had our weapons, I don't think we could take them, not just the two of us."

They walked at a brisk pace up the street. Vero's chest heaved up and down, and a tear escaped her eye. She didn't know her brother-in-law all that well, but he'd made her sister really happy and had been amazing to their whole family. He and Emilia having the baby was what made everyone move to SLO. He'd even found their rental—such as it was. He was a good, good man. She didn't want baby Maria to grow up without a daddy.

Sirens blared somewhere in the distance. But the police wouldn't get Jed, not while he could jump. And even if they caught up to him, they might regret it.

Pieter pulled Vero into a little clothing store. Pretty dresses hung from racks around the room. It was the kind of place her classmates could afford to shop at.

"Well, that was unexpected," Pieter said.

Just ignore it, eh? That was his plan? Suddenly, Vero wanted rather to hurt those who'd just hurt her family. Though here, surrounded by cute tops and expensive accessories, a more sensible side warned that she was better off hiding.

## 8. Carlos's Apartment

"Then I said, 'Usually, a gun's better for a holdup than a sword,'" Carlos said in Spanish. He laughed. Vero didn't remember that line, but she kept quiet.

The five Mendoza women surrounded Carlos in his living room. Emilia coddled baby Maria. Carlos was leaning back in his recliner, little white bandages covering his arms. The TV played, and Vero sat in a kitchen chair near the door, texting Kristin while listening to the story.

Carlos shook his head. "Then he busted in the glass. If I'd just been standing farther back..." He looked at his bandage-covered arms.

"And the money?" Vero's mom asked.

"Four hundred dollars! I told the girls not to keep so much cash in the register. I chewed them out before Gabby took me to the hospital." From someone else, it might have sounded mean chewing out some girls who'd just been held up. But Vero could picture Carlos—laughing despite his injuries as he told them how they'd screwed up. He probably even paid them for the whole day.

Vero was responsible for this, somehow. If she hadn't been in the field that night...no, Jed would have come through the portal either way. But if she hadn't taken the weapons from James...no, that didn't make this happen either. But she still felt somehow responsible.

Vero's mom poked her daughter in the arm. "And you just ran away?"

Vero mumbled some vague affirmative and slouched in the chair.

Emilia turned up the volume. "Quiet, it's almost on."

A large, three-dimensional eight rotated on the screen then transitioned to a reporter standing in front of Carlos's shop—front window shattered. A voiceover spoke in English. "A quiet Sunday afternoon in downtown SLO turned dangerous when two robbers with swords held up five separate downtown businesses then vanished."

Grainy security footage showed Dek throwing a young woman to the ground in a souvenir store.

"I'm here with Carlos Fontana, owner of Santa Maria Steakhouse," said the reporter. The screen showed Carlos, identified by the text local restaurant owner.

"Come on, it's Santa Maria Steaks," in-the-living-room Carlos said. "They got it wrong!"

His wife shushed him.

On-screen Carlos said in English, "Yeah, I was barbecuing the tri-tip when they show up. I was like 'what you doing here?'"

The screen cut to another restaurant owner, who claimed that the robbers somehow got onto the rooftops and ran away. Someone also reported them stealing a backpack—the one Vero had spotted them with.

"The two suspects are still on the loose," the reporter said. "Due to their weapons, police suspect they may also be responsible for the murder of an unidentified homeless man off Orcutt Street last night." The TV displayed sketches that looked a little like Jed and Dek. "Suspects are armed and highly dangerous. Back to you in the studio."

Carlos snatched the remote off his table and muted the TV.

"That's it? They interview me for thirty minutes, and that's all they show? I had some good jokes in there."

Emilia took the remote from him. "Hon, your jokes never work in English."

"Or Spanish," Bella added. The other sisters laughed. Vero didn't.

"Five stores in one afternoon," Carlos said. "I don't get how they outran the cops. The tall guy was hurt, even."

"And why swords?" Vero's mom asked.

Why swords, indeed?

As her family jabbered back and forth, Vero slipped out onto the second-floor apartment balcony with her purse and sweater. She gazed over the quiet street below. The sun had nearly finished setting. The city was darkening.

Better that her family didn't know about the field. Carlos might like all that attention from Vero's mom and sisters. He hadn't lived with it his whole life. Right now, Vero just needed to get away from all that.

Okay, so Jed was out there, somewhere, beating people up and stealing money. He was probably just trying to get a place to stay and food to eat until more people from Ruach arrived. The only other thing he had on his mind was...well, to do what he'd promised: kill Vero and the others—if he could even recognize them. Earlier, he'd walked right on by. With a little luck, he'd never find them.

She pulled out her well-worn phone and texted Pieter. Can I wake up now?

Amazing that the night after getting hit with an axe, Jed was out committing armed robbery. So that was the power of the soul armors? Could he just keep that thing on all day, or did he have to take time and rest?

As she waited for Pieter's response, Vero looked at the armband at the bottom of her purse. It looked like a simple piece of jewelry, but it could do amazing things. The night before, using this thing had felt incredible—though it would have been nice to try it out doing something other than fighting for her life. She looked around, confirmed the balcony was empty, then slid the band on under her sweater.

Her phone bleeped with Pieter's response. Nope, nightmare continues. You okay?

Family kidnapped me to come watch Carlos recover at his place.

He hurt bad?

Santa Maria Steaks got it worse, she typed. What do we do?

Hide.

A cool fall breeze blew by. We're armed, you know.

As she waited for Pieter's reply, she focused on the band. It felt warm, despite the cool air. Like a bolt of lightning, Diotein roared to life.

From inside, her mom called, "Vero, what you doing out there?"

She watched a car drive past. The speed of it felt...funny. Time slowed. No, that wasn't quite right. Time moved the same, but she could take in and process more details. At the same time, she felt hollow. Somewhere out there—a couple miles away under a blanket in her room—waited this thing's other half. The armor felt almost...mournful, and the blaze inside her seemed weaker than the night before. She could have—without any doubt—spun and pointed in the direction of the axe.

Her phone vibrated. We're armed? What, you planning to fight a war?

Her fingers flew across the keypad. She had to stop for the autocomplete on her awful phone to catch up. Jed promised to kill us, remember? Don't think we can ignore him, she texted. Well, at least there was something good about this whole mess. Super texting powers or something.

Her phone vibrated with the reply. Speak for yourself.

Mom called for her again. Vero walked to where another building's wall provided some concealment. She leaned on the railing, hopped, and balanced the rail on her hands. She pushed her legs up, and they nearly touched the ceiling. And she managed this gymnast-esque maneuver even with her armor feeling incomplete.

Something shifted in her pocket. Out of the corner of her eye, her phone tumbled over the balcony. Her hand darted like a frog's tongue to catch it, but the motion threw off her balance. She fell face-first onto the cement walkway and tumbled onto her stomach.

She stayed still, expecting pain to come shooting up her neck. But it didn't. She stood and dusted off her top.

Somewhere out in that city, Jed was lurking, nursing his wounds, brooding on revenge and murder. But Vero was not powerless.

She was not powerless at all.

## 9. Neil's Designs

A white-haired lady watering her flowers stared as Pieter parked the White Lady under a lit street lamp. He waved; she didn't. She seemed to take it as a personal insult that he always parked at the curb in front of her house. Well, in a year, he'd be off to college. Until then, she could deal with it. Pieter got out and walked to Neil's house.

This neighborhood, built sometime recently, had a fresh, high homeowners' association-dues feel to it. Five short, parallel roads of idyllic, identical homes rose at the foot of grassy hills here on the south side of town—not far from school. Neil's dad practiced optometry, and his mom did something with computers, so they could afford one of these overpriced, three-bedroom dream homes.

Pieter knocked. The door cracked open, and Neil peeked through. "Come in...quickly. You weren't followed, right?"

"Uh...maybe," Pieter said. "You know that grandma next door? I think she's a spy for Terian."

Neil made a shushing motion with his index finger. "Don't mention names. My parents are here." He opened the door. "Also, not your best attempt at humor."

Part of the reason Pieter had done the double date was to get some time with this old friend. With Neil descending into the dark pit of on-line games, the two didn't see each other much. More and more, their friendship was beginning to seem like a "for old time's sake" sort of thing. Pieter didn't like that. He never liked losing friends.

Pieter waved to Yuko, Neil's mom. She kept her eyes on her laptop screen at the dining room table, phone to her ear. She'd moved to America as a kid, and Pieter only heard her use Japanese when Neil did something really stupid.

"Title Media Service—again?" she shouted.

"They just had a big release today," Neil said. "Huge mess."

"Hello," called Hiroshi, Neil's dad, from the couch. He sat watching TV.

"Hey." Pieter waved.

"Friends over? You finish your homework?" Hiroshi asked. His accent had more of the harsh Japanese pronunciation.

"Always," Neil said.

"Haha, good. What the motto?"

"One more year to USC," Neil said rather dryly.

They started up the stairs. "Still going for computer programming?" Pieter asked.

They walked into Neil's room. "Yeah." Normally, this was when Neil would launch into a spiel about how he was going to make video games for Blizzard. Instead, he closed and locked his bedroom door.

Posters of Star Wars, some anime with a cat girl, and the Avengers movie covered Neil's walls. A sword—which Neil had explained many times was an exact replica from the Lord of the Rings—hung next to the Avengers. Pieter's friend had the distinct advantage that his parents wouldn't ask questions about the sudden appearance of a mace.

Neil lowered his voice and sat in an office chair at his desk. "Finally."

Pieter plopped down in a beanbag in the shade of Neil's enormous bookshelf. DVDs and books with titles like The Sword of Thragdorax stared down at him. "Hey, Vero needed me."

Neil glanced at the enormous monitor on his desk. "And she doesn't need you right now, after what happened?"

"Her family hijacked her," Pieter said. "Trust me, she'd much rather be with me than hanging out with all those sisters."

Neil looked him over. "You didn't get hurt, right?"

"He didn't even notice us."

"So, far as you know, it had nothing to do with you? He was just in it for money?"

Pieter nodded. "And not just SM Steaks—sounds like he held up a few different stores. The guy's gotta eat, right?"

Neil swiveled his chair back and forth. "Perhaps. We don't know anything about their biology."

Pieter laughed. "You think they photosynthesize?"

Neil spun a full circle. "I assume nothing. Have you looked through James's bag yet?"

"Yeah. Found a sheath for my sword and a strap that looks like it will cover Vero's blade. Plus some clothes. A little bit of dried meat and crackers. Some other odds and ends and, get this...a flashlight."

Neil stopped spinning. "A flashlight?"

"Yeah. It's metal, has an obvious switch and everything. I even managed to get the battery out—at least, what I assumed was the battery. Not exactly double-A."

"Flashlight, flashlight," Neil muttered. "Why a flashlight?"

"To see when it's dark?"

"No, I mean, they use swords and axes and stuff. If they have flashlights, shouldn't they have guns or something?"

Pieter shrugged. "Well, it's not exactly your normal sword. I could probably take somebody with a gun."

"But it's a full-blown fantasy world! I totally had them pegged at a medieval technology level."

The one thing about being Neil's friend was that you often got free entertainment out of it. At the moment, he was somewhere between a kid in a candy shop and a fanboy at a convention. "Umm...Neil? What's the big deal?"

Neil reached down and picked his laptop off the tower of his other computer. "The more advanced they are, the more threat they pose. Anyways, I've been drawing up plans since last night."

"Plans?"

Neil set his laptop on his knees and tapped the keyboard. "I just finished installing hard drive encryption software on both my boxes."

"For..."

"Security, of course. And don't use public email services for communication. They're too easily accessed by law enforcement. As the dimensional barrier becomes breached more and more often, we all know that the three-letter agencies will end up involved. Did you know they took the field off the market?"

"What?"

"I drove by today. Not for sale. And they're building a chain-link fence."

Pieter shrugged. "So...someone sold it?"

"On a Saturday? And now they're building a fence?"

Pieter shrugged. "Doesn't mean it's the FBI."

"CIA, more likely. Or some agency we've never heard of. But somebody else knows about this. So I set up a secure email server in Panama. I've already deleted my Facebook account and suggest you do the same in about a week—not too close to mine."

Yeah, that wasn't happening. "Umm...You wake up today with a hangover, too?"

"I've never had a hangover, but yes. It's obvious that using the soul armors drained us, as it will probably continue to do."

Pieter wondered if they could escape this little conspiracy theory meeting and go downstairs for some food. His lunch had been interrupted.

Neil tapped on his laptop. "I've outlined three scenarios. In number one, we'll grow used to the devices and learn to function normally with them. In number two, we'll continue to experience exhaustion. In number three, the strain on our bodies will eventually kill us."

This is what Neil had been up to? Pieter was really, really glad to have a girlfriend. "So, what'd you think of Gloria?"

"Don't we have bigger things to worry about right now?"

Not a particularly surprising response. Nothing during the date had convinced Pieter they'd work out.

Neil slid his finger over the track pad. "Anyways, let's at least get your email set up." He handed the laptop to Pieter. "Enter your password. You're p@zx5k6s.co.pa."

Another email address was worthless, but when Neil got in one of his moods, the easiest way out was to humor him. Pieter typed a password, promptly forgot it, and swore to never use this email. "You're...sure jumping into this whole thing quick."

Neil snatched the laptop back. "Of course. You think that waiting is going to make our problems vanish?"

That about summed it up, actually. "Of course not. This is all just...weird, you know?"

"Weird's an understatement. What difference does 'weird' make?" Neil tossed his laptop onto the bed.

"So, think it's real, everything James said?"

Neil planted his elbows on his desk, cupped his face, and began idly bouncing his nose back and forth between his index fingers. "Parts. I'm not sure how many lies he mixed in. But I know he's from another world and there's some kind of war going on, a war where we have to choose a side."

"Exactly. How is that not weird?" Pieter asked. "And how can you just accept it?"

"You saw what these armors can do. Either it's some kind of super-secret military technology, or James really comes from a world of magic. The quicker you accept the facts, the quicker we can act on them."

A glint of passion shone in Neil's eyes. He was...different. His mind worked a million miles a minute. It took ideas and information, processed them, and then just believed "the facts." Like a robot. Neil's strange psychology was an asset when Pieter needed help in school work, but it probably—somewhere deep down—also explained his perpetual singleness.

"Okay, so you want to do the whole 'become legendary heroes' thing?"

"Maybe," Neil said. "But I'm not sure which side to join. I mean, James seems to work for someone named Rolland, but who's to say Rolland is the good guy? Consider this story: James, servant of the tyrannical King Rolland—bane of a thousand worlds—was tasked with a mission to begin a brutal campaign of guerrilla warfare against the heroic revolutionary Terian. Injured during the journey and with his companions slain, he gave his weapons to the first people he found on Earth to prevent them from falling into enemy hands."

Pieter opened his mouth to suggest a snack downstairs, but Neil plowed on. "Furthermore, James came up with a story about the 'evil prince' to get us to begin his guerrilla campaign for him. Thus, when Terian comes to Earth to seek help in overthrowing his despot father, we will take up arms against him. Different story depending on who tells it, eh? Given what we know, do you see any reason that's impossible?"

"Well, Jed still tried to kill us."

"No," Neil said. "We tried to kill him. Maybe he was just defending himself."

"Do you enjoy making things hard?"

"No, I enjoy figuring out the truth. Pieter, you don't question enough. America doesn't need an autocrat like this so-called King Rolland. Or maybe he's the good guy. At this point, who knows?"

And that was the problem with Neil's brain. Just as quick as he could "figure out the truth," he could argue himself into a circle.

Pieter smacked Neil in the shin. "Okay, so how about we just back off and watch what happens? Getting murdered would, you know, spoil my senior year."

"No good." Neil kicked Pieter in the side. The besocked foot failed to do any damage. "We've got a bad guy who knows our faces and maybe overheard our names. SLO's a small town. If you want out of this, we have to do something about Jed."

"You sound like you already have a plan."

"Scenarios, actually." Neil grabbed his laptop again. "Scenario one: path of the chicken. If we ignore Jed and Dek, they either kill us, or when Terian finally comes through—evil prince or not—he knows who we are, and we get sucked into this thing. Running away doesn't keep us out of the battle."

Pieter stared at the ceiling.

"Come on, Pieter. You're not an idiot. You have to see the logic behind this."

"I do, but..." But after making a password for an email server in Panama, he couldn't tell what parts of this conversation came from Neil being paranoid and what parts came from Neil being smart.

"Scenario two: Zip the lips. We kill Jed and his sidekick before more highlanders come through. Then we go back to our quiet lives." He said it so casually, as though planning a raid in WoW. The thought of real violence—so unlike the video game imitation—made Pieter shiver. The night before had been enough to last a lifetime.

"Or scenario three: Save the freaking world." The look on Neil's face had an almost maniacal quality. "Kill Jed for secrecy then do exactly what James asked: Fight a guerrilla war against Terian and make Earth a graveyard for his forces. Arrange ambushes, mess with his supply lines, decimate his finest warriors. Then, when Rolland wins, get rewards and glory. And the girls."

"Assuming Rolland's the good guy."

Neil swirled back and forth in his chair. "Well, the one who shows up with the evil horde—that's the bad guy."

Pieter stared open mouthed at his friend. "Are you serious?"

"Usually, I'm the one asking you that question."

Pieter glanced at the sword hanging on the wall. "So, you been, like...waiting for this or something?"

Neil swiveled and stared dead on at Pieter. "What, expect a portal to open in my backyard and somebody to come out and tell me I have to save the world?" His eyes had an impulsive, agitated look. Pieter hadn't seen him this excited since the first WoW expansion.

"You sound like you're enjoying yourself," Pieter said. "Like Bad Guy Destroy."

Neil grinned. They both remembered it, meeting as kids living in the same neighborhood when they were four, right after Pieter's family moved to SLO. Their parents had forced them to play outside, and the two became best friends. They invented Bad Guy Destroy, a game that involved turning every toy they owned into a laser or sword and blasting imaginary bad guys. Co-op, not versus. It was something like Halo back before their parents let them play violent video games.

"Enjoying myself? Of course not." Neil spun away from Pieter. "This isn't a game. It's real danger, real pain and sweat and blood. Excited? No." That wild look in his eyes disagreed.

"Of course not," Pieter muttered. He knew which scenario Neil was rooting for. And he didn't like it.

## 10. Algebra

Pieter lightly jogged through an empty, locker-lined hallway. It wasn't that this weekend's excitement had caused him to sleep in; it was that every weekend's excitement caused him to sleep in. Now that he drove himself to school, his mom didn't bother him in the morning. And sometimes that meant jogging up the many staircases of South Obispo High to get to class.

Pieter slid into a seat near the back, directly behind Gloria, just as Mr. Miner finished the roll call. "Pieter Walters."

"Here," Pieter called out. Every once in a while, his last name came in handy.

Mr. Miner, a tall black man wearing floating math symbols on his tie, leaped into a lecture on quadratic equations. The bleary-eyed students slowly felt the freedom of the weekend drain away. Pieter stared at the back of Gloria's head.

South Obispo High was about ten years old and lay spread across a hillside surrounded mostly by undeveloped land. Unlike the older SLO High across town, South Obispo also drew students from nearby county land and a couple towns down the freeway. Pieter heard some of the teachers who'd grown up elsewhere talk about how they loved the small town feel of the school and how they never wanted to teach anywhere else. He couldn't wait to leave this parochial village for somewhere fun.

At the same time, he recognized most of the students. They'd grown up together, and he'd probably end up missing them when everyone moved away. Somehow, Pieter had never landed in a particular clique. He had friends on the football team, among the potheads, among the church kids, and even Neil himself representing the clan of the gamers.

"The four of us should meet and talk," he whispered to Gloria.

She jumped a little at the sound of his voice. "Yeah, you think?"

"Hadn't heard from you since Saturday."

She ran a hand through her black hair. Unlike the date night, it wasn't smooth-and-pretty black hair, but more the just-got-out-of-bed black hair. "It was a lot to take in, and—"

"You slept about twelve hours yesterday?"

She nodded. "Yeah."

"After school?"

"I'm busy after school every day this week, mostly work."

"You have a job?" Pieter asked.

Gloria was one of Pieter's many sort-of friends. He sort of knew about her life and sort of remembered meeting her somewhere in first or second grade. He sort of even remembered hanging out more when they were young kids, but he wasn't so sure about that.

"Yeah, Bueno Taco. Lots of drunk college students on weekends." Gloria was so different one on one. She actually talked.

"Sounds entertaining."

"Sometimes."

Mr. Miner spoke up. "Pieter, can you tell us the value of X?"

"Three fifths," he responded.

"That's...that's correct."

"You know me and math. We're like this." Pieter crossed his index and middle fingers and held them high. "Now, do you mind? I have a conversation to finish."

A few laughs around the class. Mr. Miner said, "Yes, actually. There's an empty seat up front if you'd prefer."

"Well, Gloria, yes I love you, but I already have a girlfriend. And I have to pay attention in math class."

A few students laughed. Gloria said nothing but slunk low in her seat. Pieter stared up front and zoned out. His mind flashed to the dying form of James and the feeling of Croga's strength in his muscles. He'd forgotten the names of the weapons of the others, but he could still hear James's rasping voice telling him that he held Croga, the sword of resolve.

Saturday had almost been a blast. Dragging the girls and Neil into a dark field, becoming the king of that field...he'd almost managed to make something of the evening. And then Jed had appeared. And Neil had decided to charge into battle for death and glory. And it's not like they'd accomplished anything. James had still died. Except now, like Neil had said, they couldn't just walk away.

Mr. Miner gave some time-consuming homework then released them. Gloria waited outside. "I wanted you to see this," she said and pulled a little square of thick paper from her pocket. She handed it to Pieter. "What do you think?"

It was a photograph of a woman wearing a long blue dress that reached to her ankles. The neckline rested just below her shoulders. Beautiful but not sexy. Long wavy, jet-black hair fell to her waist and billowed behind her.

She faced the camera with a very slight smile. Her dark-brown eyes contained a confidence Pieter had never seen. She didn't seem carefree, just convinced that everything in the world would turn out fine. He couldn't quite place her age: twenty? Thirty? She seemed timeless.

Above the woman's head, some kind of light threw down beams and bathed her in colors Pieter couldn't quite put words to. Blue, yes, but a very crisp blue. It almost looked Photoshopped.

"What do you think?" Gloria asked.

"She's hot. Where'd you get this?"

"James."

"Oh, right. Didn't he say you reminded him of her?" Pieter studied the picture then looked up at his sort-of friend. Gloria definitely wasn't tall and skinny, though they both had the pale skin and black hair. "A nice compliment. But he didn't say who she was, did he?"

"No." She slipped the picture into a binder. "Figure out a time and somewhere private to meet up, then text me."

"Sure thing. I never refuse a lady wanting to secretly meet with me."

Gloria's mouth dropped open and she stared down the crowded hallway.

"Gloria, if we're going to be in this together, you have to learn to appreciate my humor."

"No, do you see that?" she asked, pointing.

"Yeah, and I don't think those shorts fit the dress code."

"No, it's gone. I saw a short, dark-skinned man. He looked like that...that shorter one. Dek? Except he was almost naked and see through, like he wasn't really here. He just stood there, and people walked right through him. Then he vanished. You didn't see anything?"

"Spooky. Though streaking is rather pointless if you're invisible."

Gloria didn't respond.

"You afraid?" He gave her an affectionate hug. "Don't be. You're wearing your jewelry, right?"

"Yes," she replied, placing her hand on the zipper of her sweater, a little below her neck.

"Good. I'll get the staff back to you after school. Remember. James said you're the strongest."

The warning bell rang and Pieter dashed down the hallway. Second period waited across campus, and his mind churned to produce an excuse in case his feet didn't carry him fast enough.

## 11. New Friend

Vero approached sixth period music appreciation with her two closest SLO friends, Kristin and Carrie. She liked sixth period. It gave her a nice nap at the end of the day.

"Did you hear about downtown?" Kristin asked. She had long black hair and clothes Vero would have gladly exchanged a sister for. Her dad was a lawyer, so they could afford such things. She had mostly recovered from her most recent breakup. At least, she'd moved from complaining about it to eying some guy in their English class.

"That was my brother-in-law's store," Vero said.

Kristin gawked. "What?"

"And I was there."

"No way," they both said at the same time.

Kristin and Carrie had both grown up in SLO. Whether in SLO or in the Central Valley, it was the same: Relationships, reputations, and gossip were like a flooded river—now sweeping some poor cheerleader into the muddy depths and now lifting some homely girl to the surface for breath. But in those social currents, girls like Carrie and Kristie always managed—as it were—to float on the surface in a luxury yacht sipping organic coconut water. They were good friends to have.

"So you saw them?" Carrie asked.

"Yeah," Vero said. "A sword. So weird."

They stopped at Carrie's locker, and she checked her blonde hair in a mirror. "Crazy. They hit all those stores. Then just...like, vanished, right?" Though Kristin seemed to be the center of a new and scandalous breakup at least once a month, Carrie was more careful in her relationships and seemed more stable. She was presently with a baseball player, a good guy from all Vero could tell.

"And all in broad daylight." Kristin giggled. "What is this, Bakersfield?"

Vero had told them—once—where she'd moved from. She'd regretted it ever since. Bakersfield wasn't that bad, mostly poor and hot. But to these girls, anywhere outside the Central Coast was basically a third-world slum. These SLO babies were pampered to the limits of imagination. And they didn't deny it. Carrie had once expressed that she was thankful to have been raised in a bubble, and—if she could have been raised again—she would have chosen the same bubble. They walked into music appreciation.

"Hello," a timid voice said from the back row.

Vero glanced toward the voice. Gloria? Despite the warm weather, she wore a loose sweater and some jeans. Vero'd noticed her in passing earlier in the day, but they hadn't spoken since parting ways in the field.

"Hey," Vero said. "How's things?"

Gloria shrugged. "You know, fine."

"You're pals?" Carrie asked.

"We met this weekend," Vero replied. She knew that Carrie and Kristin would mingle with Gloria about as well as water splashed on a grease fire, but after Saturday night, this quiet girl had a strange place in Vero's heart. "You want to come sit with us?" Vero motioned toward the right side of the room.

Carrie scowled. Gloria glanced at the three of them then looked down at her desk. "No, I'm good here."

Probably for the best. Vero walked with her friends and sat in their normal spot. Kristin nodded back to Gloria. "How'd you meet?"

Oh, they'd just hidden in some bushes, witnessed a murder, then fought for their lives with the finesse of a low-budget action movie. "Didn't I tell you about that double date that Pieter forced me on Saturday night?"

"You mentioned it..." Carrie said.

"It was for this old friend of his, a guy named Neil. He was pretty...well...let's just say there's a reason he needed Pieter to try and work out a date for him." They laughed. "Gloria was the female sacrifice."

"They hooking up?" Carrie asked a little too loudly.

Vero shook her head. "Unlikely."

Carrie lowered her voice and said, "I've seen that girl around since I was six. I'm not sure we've ever talked."

Kristin peeked back again at Gloria. "Yeah, I've seen her around. I don't think she's ever made a strong enough impression on me for me to remember her name. And she dresses like a homeless."

Vero shook her head. Kristin and Carrie were friends and all, but some of the things they said...

Yes, Gloria had a missing hole in her life where there should have been a fashion sense. But the night before, it was Gloria who had noticed James's injury. Gloria had insisted on calling an ambulance to try and save him. That girl had a quiet shell, but there was kindness and strength inside.

"Anyways," Vero said. "Neil spent half the night talking about video games. Not even Pieter could salvage that."

A brief grimace flashed over Kristin's face, not the first time she'd showed annoyance that Vero had scored Pieter. Kristin's parents had old money. Their daughter was aware of the fact. Girls like that wanted someone like Pieter—someone high visibility. But Kristin helped Vero's social standing. Due to her influence—combined with Pieter's—Vero had gone from an unknown new kid to an accepted part of the senior class during the last month. She could deal with any interest Kristin might show toward Pieter. Yes, by reputation, Pieter had dated half the school. But he never cheated once committed. There were few things in life worse than being cheated on.

Kristin lowered her voice. "Oh, I remember now. She's a foster kid. She got taken from her parents because of drugs or something a long time ago. She's all kinds of screwed up."

"What?" Carrie asked. "Go on."

"I think she got arrested once..."

And so they continued. Normally, learning a classmate's secret history would at least be interesting. But Gloria? They'd shared such a strangely intimate experience that hearing all her garbage—true or false—felt ugly. And foster care? Vero knew what it was like to lose a parent—at least what it was like to have one leave and never return. But losing both?

Gloria, chin on top of her desk, looked like she needed a hug. But in the atmosphere of a classroom, Vero simply shut her mouth.

## 12. Bonfire

Vero watched the hills leisurely pass by as Pieter's car struggled to reach freeway speeds with four people. In his trunk were some firewood, lighter fluid, obligatory s'more materials (Pieter's idea), and magic weapons from another world.

"We headed to Pismo Beach?" she asked.

"Nah, they don't allow fires," Neil said. "You haven't lived here long, have you?"

She glanced back at him in the rearview mirror. "Six months. My oldest sister married a guy here, and we moved. We'd been dying to get out of Bakersfield forever."

"You're from Bake-O?" Neil said. "I'm sorry."

Pieter reached back and slapped him on the side of the leg. "This is why you don't have a girlfriend."

The sun drifted below the line of hills, and the sky above captured the last of its golden rays. The road curved left, they crested a hill, and a sparkling expanse of ocean greeted them. Peace knocked a little stress out of Vero's chest.

"I don't miss the Central Valley," she said.

"What about you?" Neil asked, turning to Gloria. "You lived here your whole life?"

"N-No, we moved here when I was five."

She seemed nervous. Neil pressed on. "What brought you here?"

"Mom's job."

"Yeah? What's she do?"

"She died ten years ago."

"Oh, I'm...umm..."

Pieter slapped Neil on the knee again.

Vero wore her band. She'd gotten into the habit after Sunday, at least when her clothing allowed. It stayed in her purse or backpack otherwise. After what happened at Carlos's place, it felt safer to have it on. The axe now spent most of its time in Pieter's trunk. It was Saturday. Between school and Gloria's job, this was the first time they'd been able to get together.

They passed through a fee collection booth and drove out onto Grover Beach, following a vehicle pathway made out of pressed sand that ran between enormous dunes and the icy waters of the Pacific.

"Our trespassers from Ruach were spotted again," Neil said. "Somebody dubbed them the Medieval Burglars."

Vero's heart rate picked up. "Did they hit up more shops?"

"No, witnesses say they were sitting on top of one of the downtown buildings, just watching people go by. They were gone by the time the cops showed up."

The car bumped up and down over the sand.

"Watching for us," Neil said.

"Yeah," Pieter said. "We kinda figured that out."

Pieter turned his car right, bumped off the pressed sand road, and faced the ocean. Amid the sound of crashing waves, the boys stacked the wood from the trunk into a log cabin and doused the structure in lighter fluid. Vero and Gloria watched them while sitting in the fine-grained sand, which still held the sun's heat. Gloria, in her signature sweater, crossed her arms and looked out at the surf.

Vero scooted over to her. "Cold?"

"Just thinking."

Pieter ducked and held a lighter to the logs. The fuel caught, and a wave of heat washed over Vero. Above, the first stars appeared. Everything seemed like four friends having an ordinary Saturday night bonfire.

She held her hand toward the fire's warmth. "I've been wanting to try something."

"What?" asked Gloria.

Vero stood and focused on her soul armor. Inside Pieter's trunk, the axe was close enough that the armor didn't whine of incompletion like it had at Carlos's place. Heat danced inside of her. Heat was her friend. But how much of a friend? She held a hand over the dancing flames.

"Careful, pretty girl," Pieter said.

Her inner fire connected with the bonfire. She reached into the flames. No pain, only strength. She breathed in the black smoke—to her, it was a ravenous aroma like the deep fryer exhaust outside a McDonald's.

"That doesn't hurt?" Pieter asked.

"No, feels great," she replied. She knelt and lay on her stomach on top of the logs. Sparks popped as the fire readjusted itself under her weight. "I'm Diotein, the fire, right?"

Something wet hit her back. She craned her neck. Pieter held the lighter fluid. He opened his mouth in feigned surprise. "Oops."

She laughed, the added flames giving strength. "Cut...cut that out!" She waved her hand at him, spraying flaming droplets in his direction. Pieter leaped backward.

"Remarkably, your clothing isn't catching either," Neil said. "It's also protected. As I suspected, we have a lot to learn about these things."

"I could sit here all night," Vero said.

She felt a little pulse and looked back at the others. The belt around Neil's waist glowed silvery. He reached his hand over the flames. "Uncomfortably warm for me. Better than third-degree burns, but not the sort of thing I'd like to take a nap in, like Vero there."

She closed her eyes and soaked in the wonderful heat, like a bath after a day playing in the snow.

Neil droned on. "But anyways, this goes to show that there's more to these artifacts than hacking and slashing and jumping really high. For example, when James pulled them out of the bag, they were collapsed on themselves or folded up somehow. Not sure about you guys, but I haven't been able to replicate that: Reitach is completely solid, no hint of a joint or telescoping parts. Also, James said something about sight. I think we're getting the beginnings of that, right now. Check this out."

Vero opened her eyes. Neil stepped outside the firelight. "I have activated my soul armor, so you see light emanating from it, right? However, look at the sand around me. Does it appear illuminated?"

No one replied.

"As you can see, it's not!" Neil seemed unaware of the fact that they weren't paying attention. "See? The light from my armor isn't reflecting off the sand. It's not light. You're seeing something else, perhaps something from elsewhere in the electromagnetic spectrum, or..."

Vero lost track of his words. She peered out over the crashing waves and the last of the sunlight, her senses consumed in the warmth all around her. They were going to have to make some hard decisions soon, but in that moment, she was content.

Pieter's voice broke her out of the daze. "Vero, you're smothering the fire."

She looked down. Oh, she was lying in the sand now, and the logs were spread all over the place. She got up, brushed off the ash, and sat next to Pieter. "Not so close," he said, squirming away.

Her heart dropped. "What, why?"

He pulled a marshmallow out of their bag and held it next to Vero's cheek. It began to turn a golden brown. "Because I can make s'mores on you."

Neil rearranged the logs on top of one another. "You always said she's the hottest girl in school."

Pieter looked down and shook his head. "That joke is now officially banned." He smeared the marshmallow onto Vero's cheek.

"Pieter, come on, gross." She pulled the marshmallow off, but a string of melted sugar trailed behind. She sat in the cool sand by herself and focused on her armband again—this time to tell it to go back to sleep. At once, the strength and warmth vanished.

"So, uh, looks like we've started the team meeting," Pieter said.

The fire crackled. A cool breeze blew in from the ocean.

## 13. Team Meeting

"Team meeting" sounded like a school project. But a week ago, Vero had watched a man bleed and die and had seen her brother-in-law come home from the hospital looking like some kind of gauze-covered mummy. And now they were having a "team meeting"? Whatever comfort she'd gained from barbecuing herself was gone.

Neil removed a laptop from the backseat of Pieter's car and opened it. Under the twilight, the screen made his face glow a ghostly white. "Yes, I was wondering when we'd begin. Thanks for coming out. I thought that a bonfire would afford us optimal privacy." Other than passing cars, the only other people on the beach were marked by a few distant fires. The ocean breeze also would muffle any far-off sounds. "I have a list of things to discuss. Item one, team name. I'm now accepting nominations."

"Who put you in charge?" Vero asked.

Neil peeked at her over the rim of his glasses. "Well, I'm the best strategist. I'm raid leader for the Army of Pwn, after all. Anyways, I have seven suggestions. One, The Rebel Alliance. Two, The Avengers. Three, The Fellowship. Four..."

"Rebel Alliance? What are we rebelling against?" Gloria asked.

Neil turned to her. "It's a—"

"Stop, just stop," Pieter said. "Neil. Are all those movie and comic book references?"

"One's from a video game..."

The breeze shifted and blew smoke at Vero. She coughed. Without her armor active, it was simply a plain old tear-wringing campfire smoke.

"All right, let's skip the team name and get to something important," Pieter said.

Neil lowered the laptop screen slightly. "A name's important."

Vero stood and stepped out of the path of the curling smoke. "Okay, let's start over. The real question one: 'What in the world are we doing?'"

"Keep your voice down," Neil said.

"Say something useful." Vero glared at him through the flames.

"Oookay, let's rewind. " Pieter reached over and shut Neil's laptop. "I now call this team meeting to order. Neil, we'll get to your to-do list a little later. Gloria, you've been quiet. What do you want to talk about?"

She crossed her arms. "That's okay. I don't have much..."

"No," Pieter said. "We've been talking to each other all week about this. I haven't heard from you...outside algebra, that is."

"Well, I want to know...how are all of you doing?" Gloria asked.

"I'm good," Neil said, reopening his laptop, the pale light returning. "Though we should totally figure out the scope of what exactly—"

"I've had worse weeks." Pieter warmed his hands on the fire. "Homework load not too bad. Family drama manageable. I've got a pretty girl in my life. And, you know, superpowers cancel out the threat of murder in my book." Oh, Pieter. He made even the hard parts of life bearable. Though at times, she wondered how he really felt beneath all the humor. "You, Vero?"

She scooted over and laid her head in the comfort of his lap. Where to start? Frustration at their ignorance, anger at the guys who were ruining the SLO life she was just starting—including James for dragging them into this whole thing. And there was that fear in the background that someone was just about to attack her. "A lot's happened. Right now, I just want to figure out what we do about it."

Pieter turned toward Neil and nodded. "Neil, why don't you tell them your scenarios?"

Vero rested against Pieter and looked up as the first stars emerged from the darkness.

He tapped a key. "All right, scenario one—"

"Briefly!"

"Right," Neil said. "Well, we don't know much. We don't know if Rolland is an evil overlord or a benevolent monarch, whether Terian is coming to conquer Earth or protect us from his father. Plus, despite James seeming so convinced, who says they even have advanced enough weapons to do any damage? He said nobody from his world had ever actually been here. How they know anything at all about our society is just another one of those big questions. Knowing that little, I—for one—don't want to join James's little guerrilla army just yet."

"Really, dumping all this on us was a pretty douche move," Pieter said.

"More desperate than douche," Neil said. "Anyways, do any of you actually want to try and harry the movements of EP's army?"

"EP?" Gloria asked.

"Sorry, Evil Prince." Neil chuckled. "Terian, that is."

Neil thought he was clever—so clever! "Except," Vero said. "He might not be evil."

"Well, cool name either way." Neil chuckled again. Vero shuddered.

"I take it that nobody really wants to fight?" Pieter asked.

Vero looked up through the smoke at the stars.

"Good," Neil said. "In that case, we've just got one barrier: our friends from Ruach. They need to be gone before anyone else shows up. Then I can get back to WoW, Vero and Pieter get back to kissing..." Definitely the opposite of clever. "And Gloria, you get back to your life."

"What do you mean by 'gone?' Like, dead?" Vero asked. Fighting in the fury of that first night had been one thing. But actually hunting someone down?

"Of course not," Neil said. "That would be murder, and we would go to jail. I say we try to disarm his soul armor and take him to the police. He and Dek are currently wanted for armed robbery. Let the courts handle the Ruachites...Ruachers..."

"Ruachians," Pieter said. "Like Asians. Europeans. Ruachians."

Neil tapped the keyboard. "Ruachians. Check. Anyways, disarm Jed, get him to the police. End of problem."

"And if it's not that clean? If it comes to killing or being killed?" Pieter asked.

The fire crackled.

Neil looked down at his keyboard. "It won't."

"Why don't we just tell the police right now?" Gloria asked. "That sounds easier."

Neil shook his head. "Bad idea. For starters, if they find out about our weapons, they might suspect us of James's murder. Plus, the army or CIA or whoever would take our soul armors. And I don't want to give up our only protection with those Ruach...ians still out there."

"Wait, 'our only protection?'" Vero asked. "We have like police and stuff."

Pieter scoffed. "Did you see what Jed did that first night? I don't think the SLO-po is ready for something like that. I don't know if anyone is."

"So, witness protection or something," Vero said.

"You want to leave SLO for witness protection?" Neil asked. "And give up your soul armor? Do you?"

Vero paused and rubbed a finger over the band on her arm. Her sisters and mom loved this place. And, truth be told, Vero did too. She said nothing.

Neil gazed into the fire. "We take care of Jed. Then, if we want, we hand everything to the authorities. Or not. Personally, I say we're safer keeping the whole thing a secret."

"Agreed on that," Pieter said.

"And speaking of keeping the secret," Neil said. "We need disguises. You know, take a hint from the Justice League and protect ourselves and our loved ones. I want you all to pick out some masks on Amazon and email me the links—I'll buy. Disguises, and..." He peeked at his screen. "Right, um...practice. So, I don't think we're ready yet to take them in a fight. We need to train, to figure out how to use these armors. And hey, if we're really lucky, the cops catch them before we even have to do anything. Then, if there ever is an invasion, we sit back and watch them try to take down fighter jets with swords. But either way, we gotta train and get better with these things."

Vero wanted to argue. Something about Neil just automatically made her want to argue. But he'd thought this out pretty well—not that she had any intention of admitting that. And she also wanted to know what her soul armor was really capable of. "I'm down to practice, at least. Jed, well..." She still didn't like the idea of fighting. "Either way, it's better if we can defend ourselves."

"I don't want to fight," Gloria said.

A log collapsed on the fire, shooting sparks. Everyone stared at her.

Neil raised his voice a little. "You have a better idea? A better way out of this?"

"Well, we could...just keep our heads low."

"Gloria, he threatened to hunt us down and kill us. Not to mention holding up a bunch of stores downtown. Do you really want someone like that wandering around SLO? We need to level up then hit him first. We can't just run and hide."

"I just...yeah, that makes sense. " Gloria frowned slightly.

Vero sat up and brushed some sand off her back. "Hey, Gloria, you mind walking to the bathroom with me?"

"Um...sure."

Vero pulled the girl up by the arm. Gloria's face spasmed in pain and her arm tensed. Weird. Vero hadn't pulled that hard. She shrugged it off, and the two walked toward the restrooms at the beach entrance.

"Gloria...You doin' okay?" Vero asked.

"Yeah."

"Oh, come on."

"Well, all things considered. It's all pretty scary, though."

"Yeah." The sand was deep here, and Vero's feet sunk with each step. Walking was a pain. "But you know, with that thing on your chest, you're the strongest woman ever alive. Have you tried it out since a week ago?"

A car passed, headlights white against the sand.

"Just a little."

"Gloria, you're braver and stronger than you let on, aren't you? There's some kind of steel in you."

Gloria looked at her feet as they walked through the dark.

"Look, I know this is all crazy, but we can't just sit and do nothing."

"Yeah, I know." Gloria sighed.

"Right, so what's wrong with hanging out and playing with these things, at least figuring out how they work?"

A light just above Gloria's breasts lit up. Thanks to Neil, Vero couldn't help but notice that it didn't light their path. "That's in a pretty awkward spot," Vero said.

"Yeah, it shows up under my clothing if I wear something thin. But like James said, it has to be against my skin to work right. I have to basically undress to get it on."

"What's it feel like when you use it?" Vero asked.

"Peaceful. It beats with my heart."

"Sounds like the opposite of D—Diotein." The word still tasted funny on her tongue.

They walked in silence for a moment.

"We need you, Gloria. Don't just zone out when we talk. And don't let Neil steamroll you. He acts smart, but he's an idiot."

They arrived at a small, freestanding building made of cinder blocks. Four unisex bathrooms exuded the faint smell of raw sewage.

"Thanks," Gloria said.

"No problem. Let's go back."

"Didn't have to pee?"

"Nah, you just needed someone to talk to. No way I'm stepping into one of those."

## 14. Tortilla Chips

Pieter blankly gazed into 42,000,000 Google results on American civil war cause. Somewhere in there was a passing grade on his history report. He leaned back in his desk chair. Papers like this one really messed with the strategy he had perfected over the course of twelve years of education: do as little work as possible.

Vero had a group project, his sporty friends had sporty practices, and even Neil had homework. He'd come to Dad's house to work on the paper free of distraction. But distractions or none, friends or none, writing about the civil war was boring. Always had been, always would be. He at least hoped for some takeout Chinese, an old favorite for his busy, culinarily incompetent father.

The day after the bonfire, they'd met at a trail just north of town, bushwhacked through the undergrowth, then created a clearing by downing about five trees with their soul armors. Vero particularly enjoyed the lumberjacking. After that, they spent about an hour running, jumping, and sparring, managing to avoid any serious injuries.

After about an hour, one by one, their soul armors went dark, and they couldn't reactive them. Pieter went to bed early and still missed half of algebra the next morning. And he spent the whole day groggy. Soul armor exhaustion went deeper than physical soreness: He had trouble thinking, trouble feeling. Croga stretched him in every way, like it was shaping some deep part of him: his soul, whatever that was. They practiced again the following Saturday, and though he was tired on Sunday, it didn't hit him quite so hard. Honestly, playing with the soul armors on weekends was a blast. A real shame that it came with a package deal of two men hunting him. It was now Wednesday, two and a half weeks post-James.

Pieter tabbed to Facebook and scrolled through a puppy in a soup bowl, commentary on the Middle East, and his friend Mike ranting, I don't care who caused the Civil War. America won. Please let me get back to my life. A link caught his eye: Medieval Burglars Spotted at SLO High. He clicked.

Someone had seen the Medieval Burglars on the roof of SLO High, the older high school across town. The cops had rushed to the scene, but the Medieval Burglars vanished at the sound of sirens. A few students claimed to have seen them jump off the roof. Police were skeptical of that part.

Pieter stared at the ending period of the article and shivered. He had no clue what Jed and Dek had been up to for the last couple weeks, but apparently they'd figured out that here in America, kids the age of Pieter went to things called high schools. And there weren't many high schools in SLO. One training session a week suddenly didn't seem like very much.

The click of the front door opening pulled him out of his thoughts. Sounded like Dad was home. Except that a few moments later, something foul assaulted his nostrils. Rancid body odor? Unwashed clothes? Pieter feared the worst and stomped downstairs.

A figure emerged from the pantry holding a bag of nacho cheese Doritos. He nodded to Pieter. "Hey, Bro."

Dad was not going to like this. "Hey," Pieter said.

A grimy hoodie covered Steve's torso, and equally stained jeans covered his legs. He stood about an inch taller than Pieter, and matted hair hung down to his shoulders. A rough beard covered his face, and a tall camping backpack, its original color impossible to determine, rested on the linoleum floor. The stench nearly bowled Pieter over.

Steve tossed the Doritos bag on the tiled kitchen island and removed some chips with his blackened fingers.

"I seem to remember Dad changing the locks," Pieter said.

Steve laughed as he chewed. "Only helps if you bother to use them."

Pieter gazed into his eyes. Normal, not dilated. No wonder his brother was hungry. "So what'd you come here for?"

"Snacks. To say hi, see if I could stay a day or two." He took another handful of chips. "Cops raided our camp." He said it as someone might describe the inconvenience of the Internet going out.

Pieter could deal with this Steve. They could hold a conversation, and there was no fear for his safety. Despite the grime and the body odor tsunami, this was the Steve he grew up with. "You know Dad won't let you."

"Doesn't hurt trying."

Pieter leaned against the kitchen counter. "Where you been?"

Steve shrugged. "Here and there. Santa Cruz was nice. Stayed in San Fran awhile. The place is cold."

Pieter smiled. "Yeah, that's what I hear." It was good to see his brother. Wait...no. That was stupid. Had he forgotten the last five years? This was Steve! Sure, he was sober—now. Sure, they could have a conversation—now. But tomorrow? The day after? "But I hear it's a lot nicer if you're not homeless."

Crumbs fell out of Steve's mouth as he spoke. "Aww, little Brother, still pampered by Mommy and Daddy. But me, I'm free."

Steve had a very strange definition of freedom. "I think I'll stick with having a roof over my head."

Steve shrugged, sending a little avalanche of chip crumbs onto the kitchen floor. "Don't worry, your time'll come, little Bro. Let's share a camp someday."

A whoosh of air signaled someone coming in through the front door.

"What's that smell?" shouted their dad.

He rounded the corner into the kitchen. George Walters stood at about six feet like his sons. But he had more of a gut, deep lines were etched into his face, and every month a few more of his brown hairs transitioned to white.

"Why doesn't this surprise me?" He threw a stack of school papers onto one of the counters. "Get out. Now."

Steve opened his hands to their dad. "Dad, I don't have a place to sleep. Can't I just stay one night?"

"That's why we have a homeless shelter." His voice had the compassionate warmth of a black widow.

"Dad..."

"Out." A man with less control would have shouted.

Steve looked at the ground. If he were high, he would have screamed and fought and maybe walked out in handcuffs. But now? Hungry and weak? He picked up his pack and slunk to the front door, leaving bits of dried mud on the carpet. Despite his tough homeless druggie act, Steve had always been the one really hurt by words, the one who left the room like a sad puppy. In the doorway, he turned back to them. "Bye, Dad."

Pieter's dad pointed a long, shaking finger outside. "Don't come back."

Steve's footsteps descended the walkway. Dad picked up the bag of chips. "He was eating these?"

"Yeah."

The sound of crushing chips followed the bag into the trash can. "Why'd you let him in?"

Pieter shrugged. "I didn't. He just...you know, got in somehow."

"Next time, lock the door. And call the cops if you see him."

It was better this way. Pieter shook off that moment of weakness, the moment where he wished Steve would stay the night. "So, Dad, you...uh...craving orange chicken like me?"

His dad's face softened. "Why not? I got a bunch of papers to grade." With Steve out of the house, the storm was over. "Maybe we can pick up some air freshener on the way."

"No 'maybe' about the air freshener."

The joke left a bitter aftertaste.

## 15. Practice

Vero tore open a box bearing an Amazon smile and pulled out a clamshell package. "Oh, this."

A light breeze shuffled the leaves overhead. Vero and the others were at their practice spot, the clearing they had created in the hills just north of town. The label on the clamshell read celebrity mask, and inside was a plastic mask shaped like Britney Spears's face. She leaned against a nearby tree and turned the mask over a few times in her hands. "I ordered this?"

Neil frowned. "Yes, you ordered that."

She remembered incessant texts from Neil about her picking something for a disguise so that he could place an Amazon order. She'd considered a ski mask, and then she pictured herself actually wearing it. She'd look like a thug from a movie. And there'd be no room for her hair. After that, she had a vague memory of searching Amazon on the family laptop and sending an email to Neil. And now she was Britney Spears. How had she ended up as Britney Spears?

Pieter slipped his mask on. The off white of a demented clown face—complete with angry eyes, slightly bloody lips, and rotting teeth—smiled at them. A little bit of fluffy red hair stuck off the bald head. "Now this is a disguise."

Neil slipped on a Batman mask. "I am the Neil-man," he said in a throaty voice. "Gloria, how's yours?"

She put on a white bunny head, slightly cartoony, complete with ears stuck straight up like an antique TV antenna. Whiskers pointed off the cheeks. "Well, um..."

"You're cute," Vero said.

"We're not going for cute." Neil pounded his fist into his opposite palm. "These are battle masks! I can't believe I let you pick those out. Britney Spears? Bunny rabbit?"

"Ditch the ears," Pieter said. "They're overkill. Makes you hard to take seriously."

Gloria stroked her bunny ears. "Neil gets to have ears."

"That's because I'm the Batman."

Gloria removed the mask and stared at it.

"You know," Vero said. "If we actually do get in a fight, they'll probably get in the way. Here..." She held out her axe. Gloria used the blade to remove her ears and whiskers.

Vero removed the mask and tied up her hair. Their first practice, after a jump, she'd ended up hanging by that hair in the branches of a tree. It had hurt, but not like it should have. Even her hair seemed strengthened by the soul armor. But picking out all the branches had taken an hour.

Vero activated her armor and faced Pieter. "Well?"

Silver ignited on his arm. "Let's go."

He stepped forward and slashed. She danced back. Diotein knew how to be used. It gave her more than strength and speed. She had technique and muscle memory, maybe some echo of the previous users. She was no expert, but she reacted smarter than she should have been able to. She swung.

He leaped backward, planted his feet on a tree, and in a motion he definitely couldn't have done without that glowing band around his arm, he ricocheted off the tree, arced up, then fell on her from above. Instead of using his sword, he reached back a foot to kick her.

This was the weird part: fighting her boyfriend. Some previous boyfriends she would have loved to attack with an axe. But she liked Pieter. As he descended on her, she nearly swung—but she didn't want to actually hit him with the sharp blade. Instead, she leaped sideways and up and came to rest on a tree branch maybe ten feet off the ground.

Pieter landed and bounced up toward her. It was a dumb move, really. Taking her axe in one hand, she stepped back off the branch. As she fell, she grabbed the branch with her free hand and swung around the bottom like a gymnast. The bark peeled and chipped and scattered, and the branch bowed under her weight, but she flung herself off and managed to stick the landing.

She looked back and caught a glimpse of Pieter crashing into a pile of bushes. Yup, dumb move. She'd learned in their first practice to watch out for overshooting jumps. Point for her.

Neil approached. He was the only one still in his mask. "Vero, let's go. Me next."

She stared at him. The top of his mace rested in the first like some kind of underappreciated toy. His armor was active, and he was smiling like this was a game.

"Sure you can handle this?"

"Any time, anywhere, Bane," he said in that absurd, deep voice. "After all, I'm the—"

"As of now, that joke is also officially banned," Pieter called, dragging himself out of the bushes.

Vero smirked as she faced Neil. This was a game, really—one involving twirling and jumping in a beautiful little clearing out here in the woods. It wasn't a bad Saturday afternoon—as long as she didn't think about Jed and his sidekick stalking around high schools looking for them.

She went light on Neil; he wasn't as good as Pieter. She dodged a couple blows and knocked another aside. As they sparred, she felt a growing warmth—more than the normal heat of Diotein. The warmth spread and extended into her axe.

She swung at Neil, and he dodged with a gangly leap across the clearing. He stumbled but stayed on his feet for the landing. While he performed his clumsy acrobatics, the heat in her axe rose and began to bubble and churn, as though it were telling her to swing, even though Neil was so far away. She stared at the blade.

Neil faced her. "Vero?"

She could hit him, somehow from here. At least, that's what it felt like. Like if she'd just reach and swing—

"Yo, Vero!"

She looked up at him. "Sorry, something weird with the axe."

"If you do that in a real fight—"

The warmth in the blade faded, and in its place rose a hollow feeling—like the soul armor felt disappointed in her. It had really wanted her to swing for him. "And if you fight like that in a real fight..." She searched for some way to complete the sentence. "We'll...uh...we'll be taking you to the hospital or something." Not the most brilliant words of her life.

"Look, you guys want to try some jumps?" Pieter asked.

"Jumping practice!" Neil yelled. "Gloria, get over here!"

After about an hour and a half, Vero started to feel the exhaustion that told her the end was near. Neil was done for the day, and she beat Pieter in one last spar before releasing her armor. She could have pushed a little harder, but she was tired of sleeping for ten or twelve hours after these trainings. Pieter sheathed his sword, Neil packed up the masks, and Vero went for Gloria.

The girl was sitting by herself on the leafy ground under an oak tree. She'd spent most of her time there, though she'd joined them for the jumping. They all loved that part—who wouldn't? Soaring over trees and getting blasted by sunlight on the ascent, then the peak and the fall: a flurry of fear and excitement as the ground rushed up to meet you. Not even Gloria was enough of a loner to pass that up.

But Nadur seemed different. Despite looking like wood, the staff was hard as steel. Even Vero's axe couldn't so much as put a nick in it. The first week, she'd sparred a little, but mostly, she just sat here, as though in some kind of meditation. She claimed that when she concentrated, she felt power in the armor, something more refined than hand-to-hand combat. To Vero, it seemed like a waste of time.

"Still at it?" Vero asked. "Not tired?"

Gloria blinked, drawing out of a deep concentration. "Whoa, you're right, I am. But check this out."

She held her staff in front of her and spun it in a circle. Leaves fell from the trees overhead and followed it, like a tiny tornado.

"Cool," Vero said. Though not useful in a fight.

"And look." She raised the staff up with both hands then pulled down. Above them, a branch from one of the oaks bent in their direction.

With a loud snap, a quarter of the tree split off and fell. In reflex, Vero activated her armor. Good thing, too: it landed on her. She found herself immersed in a world of foliage.

"Sorry!" Gloria shouted from the middle of the mess.

Vero grabbed a thick branch and pulled herself out. "It's okay. This is new for all of us. But Jed better never come after us in a forest."

Vero slipped Diotein's leather guard onto the blade, and they gathered their things and hiked back to the car.

"I looked up some info on maces," Neil said. "I totally have the coolest weapon. See these?" He pointed to six ridges that extended around the heavy end. "They're called flanges. They could smash right through plate mail. Reitach? I'll bet I could tear apart a tank."

"Do you see that?" Gloria asked. She pointed to the sun, which peeked just over the hills surrounding the parking area.

Vero glanced up. "Yeah, pretty."

"No, look closer. And see if turning your armor on helps."

Vero did so, though using Diotein was hard at this point. A strange blob of light appeared around the edge of the sun. It moved like something from a lava lamp. Trust Gloria to see that. Occasionally, she mentioned translucent human figures walking around, too, figures that didn't seem to notice the world around them. Some parts of this Ruach thing were hard, some were scary, and some were just plain weird.

"It's like a halo around the sun," Vero said. She turned off her armor, and she could still see the blob—barely. "And yeah, now I can see it even without my armor on."

Neil squinted at the hills. "Wait, what are you guys talking about?"

The sun silhouetted a few trees on the ridge, then slipped completely behind it. The blob lingered a little longer then followed the sun.

"Well, what's it mean?" Pieter asked.

Gloria shrugged. "Wish I knew. I'm just glad not to be the only one seeing it this time."

Pieter drove them back into town. They pulled off the freeway and headed for Gloria's house.

"This where your family lives?" Neil asked.

"It's where my foster parents are," Gloria said.

Vero was glad to finally have the rumor confirmed. Neil seemed shocked. "Foster? Wait, your mom's dead, but...you didn't tell us..."

"It's not something I go around broadcasting."

Neil sighed. His head fell onto the back of Vero's seat. "I'm sorry."

"It's been eight years. I'm fine." Gloria shut the car door and walked toward the house. She didn't look back.

Pieter slapped his friend's leg. "Nice one."

Neil put his face in his hands. "Why's this always happen to me?"

"Hey, look at that," Pieter said as a white minivan blew through a stop sign and turned down another residential street.

"I think I saw that car on the freeway," Neil said.

"Was it following us?"

"No. At least, not directly. It was in another lane, but it was never real far from us."

Pieter drove to the stop sign and turned onto the same street.

"You're headed the wrong way," Vero said.

"I want to see where that van went."

The street was empty—the minivan could have turned onto any of about four different side roads.

Vero's stomach rumbled. "Looks like you lost it. Come on, Pieter. You're being paranoid. You think Jed and Dek bought a soccer mom minivan?"

They paused at a stop sign. Vero checked the cross streets but didn't see the van. "It's gone," she said. "We couldn't find it now if we wanted. Besides, if they were following us, they just lost track of us, too."

"I'll text Gloria," Neil said. "But not much more we can do. And seriously Pieter, let's get home. I'm hungry." Hungry was the one thing they all seemed to agree on.

After driving across town and dropping Neil off, Pieter and Vero waited in the car.

"Finally, alone," Pieter said. "You want to hang?"

Trust Pieter to have a date planned. Warmth bubbled inside her. This time, it wasn't Diotein. "We still get to do that? Jed might be lurking around downtown..."

"Well, you just put on your battle mask—" He laughed. "—And we'll have a good time, okay?"

They drove toward downtown.

Vero pulled out her phone and powered it on. She'd kept it off in the canyon, as the lack of reception killed her battery. Twenty-six messages greeted her. In the last week, Kristin had managed to start and end yet another relationship. Once again, she was seeking comfort. Everyone's replies to the group text filled her inbox.

The phone vibrated in her hand. She expected something else about the breakup, but it was Gloria.

Just one word: help.

## 16. Jed

"Pieter," Vero said. She pointed her screen at him.

"'Help?'" Pieter muttered. "She's got a soul armor, why..." His mouth fell open, then he swerved left and made an illegal U-turn. "Call Neil!"

After a few rings, Neil's voice greeted Vero. "Welcome to the voyages of the starship Neil's phone. Our mission, to boldly record what no..."

"Voicemail," she said.

"Tell him to get to Gloria's. Now."

As Pieter rushed through a not-so-yellow light, Neil's voicemail beeped. Vero said, "Gloria texted us. We think she's in trouble. Get to her place!"

As Pieter rolled through a stop sign, she pulled her mask on and tossed his in his lap. A few blocks later, they arrived and found that white minivan in front of Gloria's place under the glow of a street light. It was parked a chasm away from the curb. Vero's insides lurched. Had her desire for dinner just killed her friend? Gloria's front door was wide open.

Pieter pulled his mask on. "How did they get a car?"

Vero got out. In the distance, a pale glow flew through the air, away from them. The golden hue looked like Gloria's, and two silver lights followed it. Vero focused on her armor. The struggle to activate it was like forcing herself out of a warm bed at 4 a.m. in December, but it finally yielded.

Pieter opened his trunk, and Vero grabbed her axe. "Go!" he shouted.

She leaped up onto Gloria's roof just as—about a block away—the three lights descended behind a row of houses. Her legs and arms felt sluggish. The very core of her being protested using Diotein. Still, she had the strength to jump. She ran across the rooftop and leaped over the street, aiming for where she'd seen Gloria go down. Streetlights below, the wind through her hair, then the jolt of landing on another house. Pieter came down with a thud beside her. She dashed to the far side of the roof and scanned the area. She'd been lucky—Gloria was in the backyard of the neighbor's house.

Under a shaggy mulberry tree, she lay flat on her back, Dek on top of her with one hand on her neck and the other holding his mace. Her face was covered by the bunny mask, and her staff lay just out of reach. She struggled, but the wildian held tight.

Jed stood a few feet away in the overgrown lawn. He looked down at Gloria. "My dear, we finally meet again."

Pieter leaped from the roof and shouted, "Hey, ugly!" He swung his sword as he descended.

Jed flipped around and swatted the blow away. "Another one? You just made tonight that much better."

Vero jumped down and aimed a kick at Dek—the axe had too much of a chance of hitting Gloria. He glanced at her—as her foot connected with his chin. The blow shook her whole body and ruined her balance. As she spun and tumbled to the ground, she glimpsed the wildian spinning in the direction of the back fence.

She smashed into the ground then leaped to her feet. Gloria was up and had her staff. Dek was embedded in the slatted wood of the fence—his feet in the neighbor's yard, his torso in this yard. He smacked the wood with his mace, a huge chunk burst apart, and he was free. Inside the house, voices shouted.

Pieter sprang back from fighting Jed and stood next to Vero. "You followed us."

Jed smiled. "Smart little boy."

Dek walked over to Jed. He rotated his arm but seemed to be doing pretty well for someone who'd just demolished a fence with his body.

"You been stalking us? How'd you find us?" Pieter asked.

Jed held his sword forward. "Isn't that a secret you'd love to know? You're exhausted from using your armors. Just give them up. It's that easy."

Pieter took half a step back. "Nah, not so much. We're not as dumb as you look."

Gloria swung her staff down. The mulberry tree uprooted itself and crashed onto the two Ruachians. Lights in the house turned on.

"Run!" Pieter yelled.

As they leaped, Vero felt her phone vibrate. She landed on the roof and glanced at the screen, hoping that maybe, just maybe—yes, it was Neil. "Neil's here," Vero said.

Pieter stumbled as he landed. "Back to Gloria's!"

She ran across the roof then jumped. It was an otherwise peaceful night in the neighborhood below—all quiet, not many people out. One of houses even had a barbecue roaring. Hmm...barbecue. Fire.

They landed in the road, a few houses down from Gloria's. "Nice work with the tree," Vero said.

"Thanks for coming." Gloria sounded as though she hadn't really expected them to show up. The headlights of a car approached.

Pieter slapped her on the back. "What, you think we'd leave you?"

The car stopped, and Neil leaned out the side. He was wearing his Batman mask. "Where have you been? What happened?"

"Jed's here," Pieter said. "Get ready to fight."

Neil waved them into the car. "No, it's an awful time to fight! We've been training all day. In the car!"

Pieter jumped over the car and took shotgun. Vero and Gloria piled in back, and Neil accelerated. Outside the left window, Jed—then Dek—landed on the sidewalk.

"Drive!" Vero screamed. The soldiers jumped again. She lost sight of them.

"Disable your armors," Neil said. "We've already used a lot of strength today. We have to conserve our energy. We need to either escape or make this a quick fight."

Vero released her armor. Exhaustion washed over her.

Neil slowed at an upcoming stop sign.

"Gun it!" Pieter yelled. "This isn't driver's ed."

Neil blew through the intersection, barely missing a Prius.

Given that the Ruachians could be up on any of the rooftops any of those houses, Vero doubted very much that a getaway would happen. But that barbecue had given her an idea. "Get us to the closest gas station."

"I know. I have to pee, too," Pieter said. No one laughed.

Vero gripped her axe handle. "Just do it!"

"Why?" Neil asked.

"Remember me in the campfire?"

Vero looked out the back window and saw Jed land half a block behind them. He raised his sword and paused for a moment. There was some sort of—some sort of energy there.

Vero turned to Neil. "He's about to do something."

"Something? That's real helpful," Neil said. The car swerved as they turned a corner.

Behind them, in a narrow line launching forward from Jed, the asphalt burst apart. A loud whoosh passed them as whatever it was rushed by the back of their car. "He threw something, like an attack or something," she said. When she turned back to look, he'd vanished.

At the end of the block were the bright lights of a major road. "Almost at the Trex station," Neil said.

"Good," Vero gripped her axe. Were there limits to how much fire would feed her? Was there a point where it would end up burning her, rather than strengthening her?

Neil peeked in his rearview mirror. "Though, I think we might have lost them. Vero, forget the gas—"

The car shook as Dek landed on the hood. He raised his mace and smashed into the front fender. It dug into the guts of the engine with an ugly screeching sound. Their armors lit up—shaking the air like a huge subwoofer, shattering the windows. The steady rumble of the car stopped.

"Out!" Pieter yelled.

Vero pushed her door open and launched onto the sidewalk. They stood under the dim lights of a quiet neighborhood street—a fence on one side, a dark park on the other. Jed was running up the street, and Dek stood on the car.

"Two blocks to gas," Pieter said to Vero. "You planning what I think you're planning?"

"Distract them." She dashed down the road.

Behind, she heard Pieter. "It's my specialty."

She ran, the power of Diotein flowing through her. A tall red sign with the words Trex Gas towered over a well-lit parking lot. At the sight of a middle-aged woman filling up a yellow SUV, she realized—really realized—that she was about to start a gasoline fire. That had to be like...a felony or something. She stopped, breath heavy and warm inside her mask.

From the distant night came the faint sound of clashing metal. Well, felony or none, her friends—and Neil—were fighting for their lives. She dashed into the lot.

"I'm gonna blow up this gas station," Vero shouted uncertainly. "Get out of here."

The woman turned to her. "What?"

"I'm gonna blow up the gas station!" She chopped a nearby trashcan into two pieces. Water from the embedded squeegee bin spilled onto the ground. "I'm serious!"

The lady was well dressed. She gave a concerned look. "Look, I don't know what's going on, but if you're in some kind of crisis..."

Vero rushed the woman, ripped the pump away and pointed the axe at her. "Drive away!"

The compassion turned to fear, and the woman got in her car and sped out of the parking lot. Vero dropped her axe, held the nozzle high, and pressed the handle.

An empty click.

She glanced at the display on the closest pump. She still had like ten dollars. She tried the trigger again. Click.

Maybe some kind of safety mechanism? She dropped her axe and pressed against the rubber piece surrounding the spout, just like if it was pressed into a gas tank. That did it. It shot a stream, and the stench of gasoline filled the air. It smelled awful, but Vero kept spraying herself and watched as the SUV woman's money dwindled to zero.

Now, how to light it? Diotein rested at her feet. Oh, of course. She picked it up and struck the octane puddle.

The boom nearly knocked her deaf, and the explosion propelled her backward, a blinding flash consuming her vision. Glass shattered around her. When she came to a stop, she found herself inside the station building, wedged into metal shelves. The station attendant stared at her then ran out the front door. She pushed herself up. The world spun and lurched back and forth. Melted chocolate dripped from her body as she stumbled out.

As she approached the flames near the pumps, her instincts said that this was a big gasoline fire and she needed to run away. She stepped forward, her world still spinning. The heat from that thing hit her like sunshine blasting off a sandy beach on a blistering summer day. Her skin felt glowing hot, but it didn't hurt. She wavered just for an instant then stepped into the blaze.

So different—it was so different from the bonfire, which had been a relaxing, sleepy experience. This creature had a rage—as though different fires had different personalities—and Diotein let her feel those emotions. She spread out her arms and breathed in the acrid smoke and burning vapors—rage rising. Jed and Dek, Carlos's shop, the sight of Gloria's front door bashed in...her dizziness vanished.

She leaped from the blaze like a meteor and sailed over two blocks of houses, cold air whipping through her hair. From above, she saw soul armor lights dancing in the darkness of the park. She landed on a nearby sidewalk and jumped again.

Gloria fought Jed desperately, and Pieter stood back—his sword in one hand, the other hand clenched to his stomach. He was bleeding. On the ground beneath Dek lay Neil—armor dark, weapon at his side. The wildian lifted his mace.

Vero's blade fell directly into Dek's head and continued into his chest. She lifted her weapon and flung the twitching body into some bushes. Somewhere, her mind registered that she'd just taken a life, but the inferno roaring inside her consumed that thought.

She charged at Jed. "Stay away from them!"

He dodged her first swing, close enough that she sliced through the fabric of his shirt. His sword trembled as he attempted a counter. She slapped the flat of the blade away with her bare hand and kicked him in the side. He spun and tumbled into some playground equipment.

Vero advanced on him, her footsteps leaving patches of blackened grass. "Give up. You want to live? Take off the soul armor."

Jed smirked. "Did I say I'd surrendered?"

He crouched then leaped skyward. Vero followed. It was an enormous jump—double anything she'd done in the meadow. As the air whipped around her, she felt that bubbling from earlier in the day, that heat like lava pouring into her axe, telling her to just flick the blade toward him. This time she did.

It was like some part of her flowed up through her arm, out of her body and into the axe. Fire formed along the handle and rushed up into the blade, finally forming into a ball as it left her.

It launched at Jed, hit him, and exploded with a pop, flaming streaks falling to the ground like the trails of a spent firework.

He lost control and tumbled head over heels onto the roof of a nearby house. Vero landed hard on his chest. The roof crumpled and the two fell into a living room, still ablaze, their flames lighting the dark house.

"Off of me!" he bellowed, giving a desperate swing of his sword.

She swiped it aside then planted her blade in his shoulder. He dropped his sword, but the blaze inside her called for vengeance for James. Knees on his chest, she yanked the axe out. She chopped again, removing his arm at the elbow.

The blaze roared. She brought down the axe again, again. Flames licked up a nearby bookshelf. She struck one more time, and with that, the wrath of Diotein was expended. She stared down at his broken body—blood and flames everywhere.

"Did you feel that?" Jed rasped.

"The fire?"

He turned his head to the side, as though looking at something. In the dancing yellow and orange light, he seemed to be grinning. "No, the rift. It's open. I feel it. A breeze from Ruach." He trembled. "Someone steps through. They're coming, little girl. You picked the wrong side." He stopped breathing, that grin frozen on his bloody face.

For a moment, Vero's fire faltered. She looked around the room and saw his leg attached by a flap of skin, his arm on the floor, his blood flowing onto the carpet. Flames were now licking up the walls. Someone shouted from another room.

Diotein sputtered, Vero exhausted and its the task completed. For an instant, she felt the real, painful, burning heat of the flames. She refocused on the band, the flames becoming again her source of strength. She didn't have long, but she knelt by Jed's body and fumbled with the band around his thigh.

"Stay with me, Diotein," she whispered. How strange that its name had so quickly become like that of a close friend. "Just a little longer."

There was a latch like on her own armband. She unclipped it, slid the band off, grabbed the sword, and ran for the door. Both her hands were full—axe in one, soul armor and sword in the air.

Diotein faded, and her eyes watered with the smoke. "Come on!" she shouted. With a final burst of strength, she kicked the door from its hinges and stumbled into the cool night air.

## 17. Sooty Embrace

Vero staggered over the threshold of her home.

"¿Dios mío, mija qué te pasó?" her mom yelled, jumping off the couch.

She didn't want to deal with that woman's hysterics right now. She wanted to shower, to clean herself—she felt so dirty—and to try to sleep. The strength from her soul armor was gone. Now, with its act of violence finished, Diotein had abandoned her to the aftermath.

"Accidente," Vero mumbled.

No, that was wrong. She wasn't supposed to have been in the car accident—otherwise, people might connect her with the girl in the Britney Spears mask at the Trex station. After the fight, she and Gloria had jumped away from the scene, depositing Dek's body—minus the soul armor—in the flames of the gas station, just before the fire department arrived. They stashed the armors in Pieter's car and the girls drove away. Pieter had called 911 and gone to the hospital to get treated for the cut from Jed, which he said was from an accident in Neil's car. And now she'd screwed up the story.

"You're covered in blood!" her mom said. "I'm calling an ambulance."

Vero glanced around the room. No sisters. Good. They must be working late. "Not...my blood," she said. "I'm fine. Just rattled."

"What happened?"

Vero set her backpack on the floor. Luckily, her mom didn't ask about the weird bulge sticking out the top: the towel-covered handle of her axe.

"It's Pieter's..." Jed's blood. Jed, whom she'd killed. "It's Pieter. He got cut up from some glass. He's in the hospital. Not serious."

"Oh, my baby girl," her mom said. She embraced her daughter.

Vero squirmed free. Soot and blood had smeared all over her mom. The soul armor protected her clothing from burning, but it didn't keep it clean. The mask, too, was now a black mess. And now her mom was stained.

"I'm fine," Vero said.

"I...why didn't you call me?"

To keep her mom out of this, to avoid that smothering comfort. Vero looked up and did her best to become her usual, cheery self. "It was no big deal. Didn't get hurt. A friend gave me a ride. But I really need to shower, okay?"

"Vero..." Her mom tried to hug her again. Vero slipped into her bedroom.

She shut the door and removed the axe. The blade was a bit cleaner than the blackened handle—they'd used some bottled water and grass to remove the blood. But at that moment, the weapon seemed hideous. She hid it under a pile of debris in her closet and shoved her armband into her sock drawer.

In the bathroom, she looked at her hair. It would take some serious work to get...tonight...out of that hair, to return it to the hair of a pretty senior with a popular boyfriend. Kristin and Carrie would laugh about the accident to cheer her up. Her sisters would sympathize for a few days then start cracking jokes. Her mom would stay worried for the next ten years.

She stepped into the shower and let the warm water wash over her. They'd won, right? Jed was dead. The bodies were disposed of. Let the police figure out who the charred skeletons belonged to. The fight itself had only lasted a few minutes, mostly in a dark, empty park. They'd worn masks, and as far as they knew, no one had seen them except maybe while they were in the air. And if anyone had witnessed them jumping, what then? Would the neighborhood report flying bandits?

The gas station...she tried not to think about that one. The police wouldn't look for her, right? From the reports, they'd think it was a suicide, right? That she'd died in the fire. The only problem was that the body they dropped in the flames—Dek's—was male. No, she had no idea what the police would do and no energy to figure it out.

Vero washed the muck down the drain until the water ran clear. She stayed under the warm stream and ran fingers through her hair.

They're coming, little girl. They're coming for your world. You've picked the wrong side.

What now? She didn't want to ask that question. Jed and Dek were gone. Everything was fixed. Everything would be fine...

The water went cold. She hated this house. Vero got out and started drying herself. On the floor lay a messy pile of blood and soot: her clothing. Trash, now. Vero wrapped herself in two towels and opened the door.

Her mom waited in hallway. "Vero..."

"Mom, I'm..."

"Yeah?"

She leaned into her mom's arms and stayed there. Mom might be overbearing and loud. She might be someone Vero never wanted her friends to meet. But her mom loved her. With only a handful of memories of Dad, the woman holding her was her only parent.

"You want to talk about it?"

She held her mom tight. Yes, she did want to talk about it. But not at the cost of her family ending up involved in this thing. "Just a little accident. I need some rest."

Her mom gave a knowing nod. "Okay, okay. Get your sleep."

And despite wishing she'd been born in a family like Neil's, despite living in the quasi-ghetto of SLO, she didn't want to let go. She dug her fingers into her mom's back.

Vero leaped.

Axe at her side, she chased a form fleeing through the air, ready to swing up and launch a fireball. Somehow, she knew that's what was supposed to happen, as though it had already happened. That fleeing form would die. She would swing, and he would die.

Only this time, nothing happened. Jed turned in midair. Their weapons clashed. Diotein shattered in her hands. And Dek—who she remembered being dead—jumped at her from behind. They smashed into her, and the three fell tumbling to the ground.

Where were Pieter and Neil and Gloria? Was Pieter injured? Was he okay?

Jed sat on top of her, smirking. With her strength, she should have been able to push him off, but he felt like a boulder. He just sat there, grinning and grinning and grinning.

"More are coming, little girl. Can you taste the breeze from Ruach?"

Dek lifted his mace and smashed in her skull. The scene went dark.

And she heard snoring—Bella's loud snoring. Was she dead, alive? Sleeping, awake? She turned over.

A dark park—it seemed somehow familiar—surrounded her. Jed fell from the starless night sky. Diotein was whole and in her hands again.

She threw her weapon to the ground and ran. She just needed to get away, needed escape, needed freedom. But no matter where she ran, there he was, just behind, his sword ready. She stumbled over roots, and bushes scratched her. This park was so dark. She felt like she'd been here for an eternity and would never escape.

Something exploded behind her, illuminating the night like day. Bushes went from black to green; trees burst from barren darkness into pink and purple blossoms. Playground equipment flashed playful crimson and sapphire. The burst knocked Vero onto her face.

She flipped over and prepared for Jed to pounce on her. But a blazing white light floated between them, edges moving like the swells of the ocean. Jed disintegrated as he touched it.

Her guilt—gone. Her fear—gone. Vanished, dissolved like the phantom who had been chasing her.

A single word filled the air: "Continue."

With that word, a fight like James had described did not seem impossible. Within the form, she saw herself standing on a hill somewhere in SLO—dirty, flames all around, axe held high, triumphant. Beside her were Pieter and Gloria and someone she didn't recognize. And she was powerful. Her life was filled with purpose. She and the others were champions, the key to this whole war. And it hadn't devoured her. Rather, she had never been so fully alive as in that image atop that hill.

She stared up into the white form. The sound of Bella's snoring returned, followed by the feel of a tightly wrapped sheet. The park faded, and Vero opened her eyes to see her room.

The light remained. It floated just above her bed, unearthly and beautiful. Unlike the park, her room remained dark except for a slight red tinge from Bella's alarm clock. As in the dream, the form filled her with peace. Except—this was her room! What was it doing here?

Her reflexes activated her soul armor. She jolted fully awake, and the light vanished into a faint afterimage. It had to have been some trick of her brain, a leftover from the nightmare. Perhaps an illusion, like floaters when you press on closed eyelids. She released her armor.

But it had felt so real. The memory gave her a funny sensation, an ache, a yearning to see it again. She could have stared at that form for days. The sight of it had banished the guilt and pain of just a few hours ago.

Vero's heart hammered. Fully awake, she felt a clarity that she hadn't experienced since the night with James. Fear had clouded her choices about Ruach. Now that fear was gone. And one thing was clear: All their talk about escaping after eliminating Jed and Dek was an excuse, an excuse to hide Ruach from the rest of the world, to try and preserve their lives as they were. That was impossible, especially now that she'd killed. No, she couldn't rewind time.

What now? A few hours ago, that question had seemed too terrifying to ask. Continue? She considered it for a moment—becoming the woman she saw in that image. No. They weren't warriors, weren't heroes. But they couldn't just hide. They'd tried that, and they'd been found. It would happen again. Soul armors drew trouble.

As more Ruachians came through, her home would become a battle zone, and people would die. She had to prevent that. The best way? Give the soul armors to the government and let them handle it. They were way more equipped than four high school kids. Who knew what going public would do to her life and her family, but she had no better options. In a way, it was courageous.

Vero sighed and rolled onto her side. So much for sleep.

## 18. Victory

Vero knocked on Pieter's door. Gunshots echoed from inside.

"Come in," Pieter called.

She opened the door and watched a body fly across the TV.

He was sitting in his dad's big blue recliner. He looked a little pale and his movements were subdued and slow. "Aww, you killed me."

"Not funny."

"Vicodin's ruining my aim anyways."

As far as games went, Pieter wasn't much of a player. After an awkward first boyfriend who was attached at the hip to his computer, Vero had forever sworn off gamers. But even Pieter sometimes ended up with a controller in his lap.

Vero sat on the couch and yawned. The world seemed a bit out of focus. A double-strong cup of instant coffee kept her awake—barely. Guilt and fear and uncertainty all rumbled around inside. The peace and clarity of that thing in the night had faded as her window lit with the morning sunlight. Turned out that a mysterious form in her room couldn't fix all her problems. Here in Pieter's house, the thought of the thing seemed silly. It had just been part of the dream.

Except that—no, something was different inside her. The turmoil was bearable. The night before, that gnawing guilt of having killed—whatever the circumstances—had been eating away at her. Today, she barely felt it.

"So, you...okay?" she asked.

Pieter fired a few times and missed. "Yeah, doctors patched me up good. Sixteen stitches thanks to dear, deep-fried Jed. I'd say that he got the worst of it."

She didn't need reminding of that. She slumped low on the couch..

Pieter pointed at his torso. "Then the doctor asked me how I got a stab wound in a car accident. But a bunch of ambulances blew in with people from the fire, and in the chaos, he dropped it."

"Thought you'd be with your mom," Vero said. "She seems to take better care of you."

"Yeah, well, she decided to let Steve stay with her. So here I am."

Vero watched the screen. Somebody bludgeoned Pieter to death with a rifle. "When are the others coming?"

"Soon." He tossed the controller onto the floor. "So I'd better get off this recliner and start with the kissing." He staggered to the couch and plopped down, breathing hard.

Vero leaned against his uninjured side. He wrapped an arm around her, and she closed her eyes and inhaled. As soldiers shot one another in surround sound, he tilted her head and kissed her.

There was warmth in that kiss—warmth and love and comfort. It mixed with her fears and questions, both tumbling around like clothes in a dryer. Tears slipped from her eyes.

Pieter leaned back. "Why you crying, pretty girl?"

"I...I killed two people last night. And..." She stopped. She didn't want to open up abut the light in her room or her conviction to turn in the soul armors to people who could do something about it.

"You did what you had to." He kissed her again. His lips provided better comfort than his words.

The door opened.

"Whoa, Pieter. Hey, um..." It was Neil, carrying a two-liter bottle of orangeish soda in one hand and a rolled-up blanket in the other.

Vero jolted back. "Knock," she told him.

"Haven't done that here for years," Neil said. He tossed the blanket on the coffee table with a loud thud. "Pieter, your sword. Anyways, sorry to spoil your moment. Not the first time you've been making out with someone when I came over."

Pieter shivered. "So, anyways..."

Neil held up the soda. "Brought the Cactus Cooler. It's a victory party, right?"

"Sure," Pieter said, rolling his eyes. "Get some cups."

"It's your house."

"Injured, remember?"

Neil returned carrying four glasses with ice. He poured the soda and passed them around, leaving one on a coaster for Gloria. Vero sipped hers. The sweetness helped wake her up.

"Had an Army of Pwn raid." Neil's voice went really deep. "Flawless slaughter."

Pieter took half his glass in a single gulp. "Wait...you got in a real sword fight, and then you played WoW?"

Neil picked up the controller and took a turn at Pieter's game. He scored a quick kill. "Mace fight, actually, and yes, that's exactly what I did. Great way to wind down. Even got an epic drop." Neil spoke careless and casual, like James Bond delivering a post-murder one liner. But Vero saw his face—there were lines of care, and the eyes held a heaviness.

"In other words, you're better at WoW than real life," Pieter said.

Neil scowled. "Hey, I would've got him. Eventually."

"Had him just where you wanted?" Pieter asked. "Overconfident from disarming you and knocking you to the ground? Oh, and turning off your armor was just a feint, right?"

Gunshots echoed. Neil fell to the ground and died. "I just needed another moment to think, I think."

Vero stared at him, and they locked eyes. "You're welcome."

He turned from her gaze to the screen. "Yeah, well, thanks. The AoP DPS paladin might have been MIA last night if it weren't for you."

Vero shook her head. "Well, you can't have gotten that messed up if you're back to talking in gibberish."

Neil turned the game off. A Panasonic logo floated around the screen. "By the way, I tried the soul armors from Jed and Dek. I couldn't activate them."

"Yeah?" Pieter asked.

"Didn't James say something like if he died with the armor on, it'd kill the armor? I think they're useless at this point."

"And the car?" Pieter asked.

Neil turned the controller over and over in his hands. "Insurance is sending out an estimator tomorrow. Since it was a hit and run—that's what we told them, at least—I might only get five thousand on collision for it. Assuming they don't ask any strange questions about the damage, that is."

That car had looked new. That meant Neil's family might lose, what, ten or fifteen thousand dollars? With that kind of money, Vero could buy cars for her whole family. How was he not freaking out? He definitely lived in a different world.

"I still don't get how Jed had a vehicle," Neil said.

"Stolen," Pieter said. "I overheard the cops talking about finding a stolen van last night. If we're lucky, he'll get blamed for the fire, too."

"Doubtful," Neil said. "The news this morning said that people saw a girl at the gas station, though the security footage burned with the building. We're lucky they'd never heard of an offsite backup. Three houses burned down in the neighborhood where you finished Jed off, and they think that the two fires are related."

The safety of her mask suddenly seemed about as thin as its plastic.

Pieter nodded to his friend. "So, you still hot on scenario two, save the world?"

"That was scenario three," Neil said, voice flat and uncertain. He fumbled with the controller. "But you think a little car accident is going to stop me?"

Someone knocked. Gloria came in and sat on the couch, looking about as peppy and full of energy as the rest of them.

"How're you?" Vero asked.

"Been better," Gloria said. "Bill and Lisa were really freaked out about the break-in—worried about their house, that is." She shook her head.

"Some victory party, yeah?" Pieter said. "You sound like we lost."

"Well, I did manage to destroy some houses and a gas station," Vero said.

Pieter squeezed her hand. "Details, details. We got the Ruachians. We're safe."

Neil pushed his glasses up his nose. "Assuming the police don't find us."

Vero took a deep breath. "Actually..."

Her boyfriend looked at her. "What?"

They're coming, little girl. They're coming for your world. You've picked the wrong side.

"Jed, right before he died, said the portal was open. That more people were coming through from Ruach." Remembering those words brought back some of the conviction from the night before.

"A bluff," Pieter said.

"I don't think so," Gloria said.

They all stared at her.

"We...well, while we were in Neil's car, I felt something. Like a soul armor, but really far away. It makes sense. The portal."

During the night, after seeing that light, Vero'd had the right idea—they couldn't just bury this thing and forget it. She stood and faced the others. "Look, we've been fooling ourselves this whole time. All this stuff about just beating Jed and getting our lives back...we lost our old lives the moment James stepped out of that tunnel. All Neil's scenarios, all our attempts to hide—we've been lying to each other, pretending that we could just slip out of this."

Neil started, "Hey, those scenarios..."

Vero turned to him. "Were your way of manipulating us so you could live out some childhood superhero fantasy. Am I wrong?"

Neil slunk in his seat. "Look, there was a real need for us—"

"A real need for us to do what makes sense," Vero said. The moment from the night before flashed by her—the moment where she'd imagined the four of them as important, as powerful. But no, that was silly. They were who they were—just four kids in SLO, each with plenty of problems without fighting a war. "We turn these things in to somebody—FBI, police, army, whoever—and tell them about the war, whatever the consequences."

Neil sat up. "Oh, whatever the consequences?"

"Yeah."

"How about you going to jail for thirty years?"

"Because of..."

"Vero, you blew up a gas station, torched some houses, and killed two guys. And we're all accomplices. Last I checked, those were felonies."

She felt like a balloon that had just sprung a leak. "But...it was self-defense, right?"

"Good luck convincing a jury that torching the Trex station was self-defense."

"But, I..." She hated Neil for it, but he was right.

Neil stood. "You're right about one thing, though: We've been thinking about this all wrong. We've been thinking about how to undo meeting James. That's not happening. After last night, we can't just hide. I, for one, say we keep going."

Continue. That voice had spoken as though if they did, some good would come out of it.

"Count me out," Pieter said.

Gloria stared into her soda. "Me, too. I said it that first night, I'll say it again. I'm not a fighter."

This from the girl who'd dropped a tree on Jed. Vero turned to her. "You're wrong on that. Timid or not, you're strong."

Gloria looked back, a flat expression on her face, her lips sealed. But she nodded—ever so slightly—as though she wanted it to be true.

Pieter slipped an arm around Vero's legs. "And you? You've got a good life here. Why spoil that?"

A good life. The best part of it was him. But the rest? He'd never seen her house. He didn't know her family. His parents might be divorced, but at least he had a dad. Pieter had grown up in wealth, she in poverty. He might have a good life to return to; she didn't.

"Vero? What'll it be? Hide or fight?" Neil asked.

She pictured that light floating in her room. She wanted it to be real, wanted it to mean something. Until now, Ruach invading her world had meant danger. Magic had meant armed men robbing her brother-in-law and stabbing her boyfriend. But if that presence had been real, that strange visitor that had wrapped her in serenity like a blanket and chased away her fears, then magic could also mean things more beautiful than she'd imagined.

How strange that she'd end up agreeing with Neil. "The rift was opened last night," she said. "Hiding isn't an option."

## Epilogue

The king stepped into the bright night of the Shadowlands. Remarkable. So much light! Yet so dark in the ethereal realm. The very opposite of Ruach. Above, those sky jewels! Researchers had noted them before, but no one could have sensed just how beautiful they would be.

He felt it, off in the distance, the undeniable signature of a soul armor, like a hook tugging in the back of his mind. No, multiple. Four or five. Strange, the report had only mentioned a total of three men coming through.

"Breathtaking," his wife said. Radiant, she stepped out of the portal beside him.

Her apprentice stepped through then shifted them to invisible. The rest of the men came through into the field carrying the supplies, and the portal closed. The king simply looked up at the sky jewels. There had to be a Shadowlander word for them. Perhaps James or the soldiers had learned it. No one else from Ruach had ever heard this world's languages.

His queen looked in the direction of the armors. "Should we intervene? It's not so far."

"Love, this place..." He took a deep breath. "Of all that I expected from the Shadowlands, I didn't foresee such beauty."

"You approve?"

"Look up."

She gasped.

He nodded. "I could get used to it here."

## The Adventure is Just Beginning

Thanks so much for reading the first book of The Rift series! The adventures of Vero, Pieter, Neil, and Gloria are just getting started.

The story continues in part 2, The Prince, and part 3, The Knights. You can buy the first three books in a single edition at: jtstoll.com/rift13book.

And if you would like updates about discounts and future books in The Rift series, please sign up for my author newsletter at jtstoll.com/sub.

In the meantime, please enjoy this excerpt from The Prince:

George sat across a table from the towering, heavyset Joe Brown. It was a shock to see Joe sitting across the table, sipping a glass of whiskey as though the last ten years hadn't passed. Joe carried the sour aroma of cross-country air travel.

"The first fluctuation, we don't know much about it?" Joe asked.

"No," George replied. He glanced out a window, past the flowery hotel wallpaper to a sunny San Luis Obispo day. "You had no surveillance. All I've been able to piece together is that for about seven minutes, the Diablo nuclear power plant—just over the hill from SLO—shut down. Fission simply stopped working. It broke physics."

Most scientists, most people, would have betrayed some shock at that. Joe kept his poker face. Rumor had it that he'd worked for the CIA before taking the reins of the Agency for the Investigation of Space-Time Anomalies. Like a true bureaucrat, Joe confirmed and denied nothing about his past, though George suspected the rest of the AISTA staff had started the CIA rumor because of Dr. Brown's dour, secretive mood. And they teased him about his name: Joe Brown, of course that's my real name.

George had missed the humor of his colleagues.

Joe swirled iced whiskey in his hotel glass. Time had given him a few more wrinkles, but he remained mostly unchanged. He wore the same large glasses and the same white shirt and deep-blue tie. George had barely spoken with his old boss in the last decade; they just shipped Christmas presents back and forth: local SLO wine from George, pricy liquor from Joe. Sipping whiskey and discussing space-time anomalies again felt like a dream.

"We were planning to sell the field. Did you know that?" Joe asked.

"So I heard."

"And now the S-L-O anomaly is the biggest find in our history." After so many years, Joe still pronounced SLO not as slow but by the individual letters, awkwardly like a biologist dissecting the town. "George, glad to have you back on board."

"Glad to be back."

"You never should've left."

George took a sip of his own drink and stared at the wallpaper. He'd aged more than Joe. After living in SLO this long, he dressed more casually and took life slower, but the last decade had hunched his shoulders and replaced the hair on his head with padding on the waist. This renewed work with AISTA was a breath of fresh life, but a whiff of old pain accompanied it. George hadn't yet worked up the guts to visit the field of the anomaly.

"Anyway," George said, "I contacted San Onofre, and they noticed a slight dip in output as well. Whatever this thing did, it reached three hundred miles south and touched a power plant in San Diego."

"Maybe finally a military application. That sounds like an ICBM shield to me."

Yes, the old talk of military applications, the reason for their funding. George hoped for the thousandth time that he wouldn't end up the man history remembered for creating the next world-breaking weapon, the next atomic bomb. "Because of the link we've always seen with nuclear forces, I suspected our anomaly may have been related to the event at Diablo, but until last night, I had no proof, just a bit of suspicion from one other thing that happened that first night."

"The murder?" Joe asked.

George nodded. A homeless man had been found killed by stab wounds. That field had devoured another life.

"Do we still have the body?"

"They buried him in a pauper's grave a week ago."

"I'll look into it."

"I think he came from the other side," George said.

Joe sighed. "Any evidence for that?" He still managed not to be excited about running a clandestine research agency revolving around holes in physics.

"First, they couldn't determine his identity. And don't you think the timing is a bit much? The same night of the anomaly's, uh...anomaly...a mysterious man appears dead in the field?"

"Or the fluctuation killed a passing homeless man," Joe said. "Come on, George. Until now, we've investigated atoms vanishing through anomalies, nothing more."

George knew he'd say that. "You still haven't seen last night's footage, have you?"

Joe shook his head. "I flew out as soon as you called me."

George pulled out his phone and began searching through his photo app. After the first fluctuation, they'd built a fence and installed some security cameras and monitoring equipment. And this time they knew more. "Last night, the cameras spotted a sort of flare of visible light—yellowish. Diablo shut down, same as three weeks ago. And we saw one more thing."

George turned the phone screen to Joe. The director's brow creased.

"Doctor, can you describe what you see?"

Joe tapped the screen to replay the video clip. "I see three people emerging from a tunnel about where the anomaly should be. They just...they..."

His voice trailed off, but George knew the clip well enough. They vanished into thin air after coming through.

George nodded. "Visitors from another world."

"Don't jump to conclusions."

George's knee bounced up and down. "Do you really think I'm jumping to conclusions?"

"I know you too well, George. Even if those people came from another world, it doesn't mean that she's still alive."

George closed his eyes and exhaled, a decade of grief bubbling out.

"Ten years is long enough. George, you didn't kill Patricia, and we need you here now."

George took a few deep breaths. He looked Joe in the eye and nodded.

The director tapped the phone screen again.

## Overcast

The stab wound in Pieter's side sang a marvelous little song as he closed his car door behind his girlfriend. After two days, he wished it would shut up.

"Where we headed?" she asked through the open window.

"Little surprise, that."

Mondays weren't the best for spontaneous after-school dates, but after the last few days—a battle, wound, hospital trip, and some arson—Pieter just wanted to chill with his girl. No swords involved.

The weather was beautiful. Bad weather never really hit SLO, and late October brought a hot, clear, thirsty sort of wonderful. The sunshine promised a nice beach day.

On the way to his driver's side, Pieter waved to a passing friend from the baseball team and made a kissy face to the guy's girlfriend—Pieter had dated her freshman year. A few laughs rewarded his efforts.

"No urgent schoolwork, right?" he asked Vero, stepping into the White Lady.

"It can wait."

His homework couldn't wait, but it didn't matter: he and Neil had got into a "car accident" this last weekend. Sure, the car accident may have actually been a fight with a couple soldiers from another world, but none of his teachers knew that, so he could slack off a bit.

"I'm surprised you showed for school," Vero said.

"I considered a day of gaming."

"But?"

"Well, can't let my GPA suffer." He gave his girl a big, toothy smile.

She laughed. "GPA?"

"That, plus...you know, pretty soon, we're all gonna graduate and scatter. I don't want to miss any of this year."

She stared out the window at the passing hills. A tight shirt outlined her form and shorts covered...well, a little bit of her. "So what, all we have to do this year is hang out with friends?" she asked.

Why did this girl, the girl of his dreams, want to fight in a suicidal war? "It's what I plan to do."

Her gaze stayed on the hills. She crossed her arms and frowned. Had she always been so moody?

"Where we headed, anyways?" Vero asked.

"Pismo. Seemed like great weather for a little beach day."

"You sure?" She pointed to the last ridge between them and the coast. White tendrils of fog crept down it like the drifting snow.

"Stupid Central Coast weather," Pieter muttered. "Sunny in SLO, and ten minutes down the coast, this..."

They emerged from the hills onto a beautiful slice of coastline covered by gray haze.

"Sure this isn't a schoolwork day?" Vero asked.

Pieter glanced over; her hands were clenched. "Hey, I just got stabbed and I've mostly been sitting around in pain. I need to get out."

"If you want."

He maneuvered off the freeway and found a spot a couple blocks from the beach. A biting ocean breeze hit him as he stepped out of the car.

"It's freezing," Vero said. "Pieter, let's go back to SLO. This is..."

He popped his trunk and dug around inside. Vero's axe—leather guard over the blade—was half-buried in a pile of clothing and trash. His sword was down in there somewhere. He pulled out a sweater and tossed it to her. "For you."

Vero bundled up and grabbed her purse from the front seat. She glanced at Pieter's arms. "Where's your, uh...your armor?"

"In the trunk. Both pieces." Superpowers or not, he had no desire to wear that thing.

"What if something..."

"Here, on a beach date in Pismo?"

"You know what Jed said to me. More Ruachians are here somewhere."

"And are you planning to take your axe?"

"No, but with my armband, I can jump back here and get it if something happens."

A breeze hit Pieter. Goose bumps rolled up his arms. "Look, I'm not in fighting shape, either way. I just don't want to lug the armband around. Your purse can't fit both ours, can it?"

"No, but..."

"Can we just go to the beach?"

She shut up, and they walked to the water. Empty surf shops and knickknack stores lined the streets. A gust of deep fryer aroma swept over Pieter as they passed a fish and chips restaurant. On a sunny summer day, tourists flooded these streets. On a foggy off-season day, they nearly had the town to themselves.

Pieter hadn't spent a month single since eighth grade, and he'd never celebrated a six-month anniversary. Despite all those exes, he'd never dated someone like Vero. She seemed like a fling at first, but in the weeks since James had burst into their world, Pieter had seen more in her.

She had a kind of crazy strength. It took a certain kind of balls to choose to fight like she had—barely even knowing what she was fighting for. She had a cushy life in about the nicest town in California, and she was willing to toss that and fight because it was...what, the right thing to do? Two months ago he'd started dating a friendly, bubbly girl who laughed at his jokes. This new Vero was almost grim.

Pieter shivered as they walked onto the pier.

"You all right?" Vero asked.

"The cold air feels great. Look, waves! Romantic, yeah?"

He took a risk and reached for her hand. She intertwined her fingers in his, and they walked against the wind as the waves crashed beneath their feet.

Pieter's head swam a little as they neared the end of the pier. "Mind if we sit down?" he asked.

They shared a bench and he leaned against her warm body.

"You should be resting," Vero said.

"Maybe, maybe not. But how can I sit around the house when I could be out here with you?"

"You're sweet."

"Good to freeze out here with you on Pismo Pier."

"You, too." She lowered her voice and said, an edge of tension in her voice, "I was worried you were...were getting over me or something."

Pieter winced. She had to be pretty hurt, pretty confused to come right out and say that. He squeezed her hand. "What? Where'd you get that idea?"

"It just feels tense with you."

"Tense? Nah, that's not me and you. That's James's ghost." Pieter pointed up. "He's floating about twenty feet in the air. Can you hear him?"

She didn't reply.

In a high-pitched voice, Pieter moaned, "Fight my war. Get yourselves killed. Terian's army of evil bad jerks is going to invade your world. Doom, doom!"

Vero smiled. She actually smiled.

"That's Ruach and the soul armors, not you and me," he said. "I don't think I could ever get over you." He loved that line. It always worked.

They sat and watched the swells rush under the pier.

"We'll get through all this Ruach stuff," Pieter said.

Vero's shoulders relaxed.

Pieter's phone beeped with a text message. It began with his two least favorite words: Your brother...

Thanks to everyone who made this book possible. Most, and more than anyone, my Heavenly Father, who makes everything possible.

Next, my parents. Mom, all those decades of proofreading my school papers paid off.

Pieter Neethling of smartrockclimbing.com, you're a great roommate and an incredible encouragement. Thanks for lending me the awesome spelling of your first name.

Susan Helene Gottfried (westofmars.com), you did a spectacular line edit.

Jason Whited, thanks for the meticulous copyedit.

Kathy Gillin, thank you for your edit, as well.

Randy Ingermanson of advancedfictionwriting.com, thanks for your encouraging words at the Mount Hermon Conference.

My alpha readers who provided feedback: Keegan, Karin, Donna, and J.K. Tizzie.

Kelsey, the cover photo turned out amazing.

Lokmenshi, thanks for designing it into an amazing cover.

To my critique group: Liz, Chai, and Katie. Write more stuff. Get published.

To Jesús for the Spanish translations. If they actually make sense, it's definitely not because I speak Spanish.

Thanks to the girls at Starbucks in Grover Beach for the many tall iced teas needed to complete this work.

## About the Author

J.T. Stoll wrote his first fantasy story when he was five. The prose was...brilliant. The accompanying stick figure illustrations...breathtaking. The lack of complex vocabulary underlies the deeper human condition. It was terrible. His mother refuses to destroy the only copy because it has "sentimental value."

He has always loved fantastical stories of all kinds: fantasy novels, 16-bit RPGs, superhero movies, whatever. If reading helps to escape the real world, why not go somewhere fun?

J.T. lives in San Luis Obispo County in a classy bachelor pad. He enjoys rock climbing, software development, and cooking amazing food.

## Copyright

The Rift

J.T. Stoll

Copyright © 2017 by J.T. Stoll at Smashwords

All rights reserved.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author's imagination. Locales and public names are sometimes used for atmospheric purposes. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or locales is completely coincidental.

Reproduction in whole or part of this publication without express written consent is strictly prohibited.

Click to visit: jtstoll.com

