Though she’d been surrounded by death almost her entire life, Lu felt that her father’s and Nola’s grandfather’s deaths were connected, as their dying advice to her was connected, as she herself was connected to something larger and unseen. The weight of her destiny loomed heavy, and if she was being honest with herself, she wasn’t sure she was capable of rising to the occasion.

This rescue plan she’d concocted wasn’t exactly foolproof. What if she failed?

Magnus spoke quietly from behind her. “It’s time.”

Lu had been staring at the computer screens, lost in thought, her eyes focused on the image of the mound of freshly dug dirt in the yard, but now she turned and looked at him. His eyes held that cold, remote look again, which told her in no uncertain terms that this morning’s interlude in the bedroom hadn’t been the breakthrough she’d hoped it was.

Her heart sank. Fool.

She was a fool to think she could change a man so damaged. She was a fool to believe there could be anything good or happy in her future. She was a fool to believe in the power of love.

There was no love in this world. There was only death, and darkness.

“I’m ready,” she answered, her voice empty. She turned back to the screens.

He hesitated a moment before moving away. He said a few words of condolence and thanks to James and Nola, accepted two canteens of water and small packages of wrapped food for their packs, then wished them both farewell.

“The bikes only hold a six-hour charge, so don’t take any detours on the way to your next stop,” cautioned Nola in a quiet voice. “All your stops on the way to the city should have chargers, but once you get to New Vienna, you’ll have to ditch the bikes altogether; they’re not registered. It’ll raise a flag.”

“Will you stay here?” Magnus asked. He left unsaid any words of caution about the Scavs, but his concern was implied in his tone.

James said, “My guess is we’re safe for a while, at least. They won’t be in any hurry to come back. We’ll be careful, don’t worry about us. Just . . .” He faltered, and Lu turned to find him looking at her. “You guys be careful, too.”

“We will. Thank you for everything, both of you.” Lu crossed and gave Nola a hard hug, then hugged James. When she withdrew, James squeezed her hand, then dropped it and went to the kitchen, busying himself with tidying up. Nola walked them to the door.

“There’s something you should have.” Nola handed Lu a small envelope with her name written on the outside in a masculine scrawl. Curious, Lu looked inside: There at the bottom glittered a gold chain with a pendant. She tipped the envelope and the necklace, cool and heavy, slid into the palm of her hand.

The pendant was in the shape of a dragon. Wings spread, tail curled, mouth open as if about to spew fire. It had tiny rubies for eyes, and it was the exact same dragon that Lu had tattooed on her stomach. She gasped.

Nola said, “Aside from his wedding ring, that was Grandfather’s favorite piece of jewelry. He was never without it. I found it inside the book on his nightstand, in that envelope with your name.” Nola paused, drawing a steadying breath. When she looked into Lu’s eyes, her own were moist. “There’s an inscription on the back. I looked it up. It’s Aristotle. Maybe it means something to you?”

With shaking hands, Lu turned over the pendant. In a whisper, she read aloud the words inscribed there.

“Hope is the dream of a waking man.”

The three of them stood there in silence, until Magnus finally spoke.

“She certainly is.”

Their eyes met. Without another word, he turned and opened the heavy steel door, and melted into the darkness of the tunnel.

“Lumina.” Nola’s voice was soft, filled with a hesitation that dragged Lu’s attention back from the fading sound of Magnus’s footsteps.

“Yes?”

“I just want to say . . . thank you.”

“For what?”

Nola swallowed, looking down at the necklace in Lu’s hands. She seemed to be fighting for words. “So many terrible things have happened to me in my life. I’ve . . . it’s never been easy for me. Even when I was a little girl.” She laughed a low, husky laugh, filled with dark humor. “Especially then. There were countless days when I would have gladly killed myself, if only I’d had the courage.” She hesitated, then glanced up. “But today I found something I lost long ago.”

Lu waited silently.

Nola said, “Hope.”

“I . . . I’m sorry. I don’t understand.”

“I never really believed in anything . . . after. You know. Life. But now . . . what you saw, with Grandfather . . .” Nola’s eyes misted, and she reached out and clasped Lu’s shoulder. “Grandfather used to tell me, ‘There is no death, only a change of worlds.’ I never believed that. Until today. Until you. And now I have a reason to keep pushing forward through this nightmare existence. I have the only thing a person really needs in order to survive: hope.”

Lu’s stomach roiled with nausea, her heartbeat skittered and tripped. She looked down at the necklace in her hand. “Please don’t put me on a pedestal; I’m no hero, Nola. I’m actually more of a dysfunctional mess. And I’m sorry to say this because you’ve been kind to me, and I don’t want to seem like an ungrateful jerk, but . . .” She met Nola’s eyes, and knew her own were bleak. “It might have only been a dream. His last dream. And not . . . what you think it is.”

“Maybe,” Nola admitted. “But maybe not. And that’s where the hope part comes in.” She wrapped her arms around Lu’s shoulders and hugged her, swift and tight. Then she pushed her away, all sentimentality replaced by that commanding side Lu had begun to think of as the General. “Off with you, then! And don’t forget what I said about the range on those bikes.”

She gave Lu a gentle shove toward the door. Lu pocketed the necklace, nodding, and turned to leave, but Nola’s voice made her turn back one final time.

“Something else Grandfather used to say, Lumina.”

“What’s that?” Lu watched a smile hatch over Nola’s face.

“Those who have one foot in the canoe, and one foot in the boat, are going to fall into the water.”

Lu blinked at her, nonplussed. “I can honestly say I have no idea what that means.”

Nola’s smile grew wider. “It means a divided heart is destined for failure. So plant your ass in the canoe, let go of doubt, and paddle like a motherfucker. It’s the only way to get where you need to go.”

Then she pushed shut the door.

Three days of round-the-clock pampering and the best medical care available on the planet had not improved the Grand Minister’s mood one iota.

“Idiot! Schwachkopf! Kretén!” he screamed at the young nurse who’d come to change his bandages and apply fresh salve to his red, weeping skin.

The doctor standing calmly on the other side of the Grand Minister’s bed assumed his insults were hurled in three languages in order to make sure there was no doubt of his displeasure. As if his manner and tone weren’t enough.

“Please try to remain calm,” said Dr. Petrov in his practiced, soothing voice. He’d dealt with nearly every kind of human sickness in his long career, and considered himself a particular expert in diseases of the mind; it was obvious to him that the Grand Minister was a lunatic. Of the raving variety. But such a fact, stated aloud, would ensure the swift removal of his head—or something even more cherished—so Dr. Petrov only smiled his bland smile and kept the damning evaluation to himself.

“Calm!” shouted the Grand Minister. His face turned an interesting shade of plum. His lone blue eye bulged, threatening to pop from its hollow socket. “You expect me to remain calm when I’ve just found out you’ve been slathering me in goo made from THOSE DISGUSTING ANIMALS?”