"Look," I said, rising from my chair so quickly it nearly tipped backward. "I didn't do this! I didn't even touch her. I said my name and she charged me. She looked right at me and she told me..." I trailed off, remembering exactly what she told me.

"That she 'sees' you," Greta finished for me, almost reluctantly. "And then she called you a traitor."

She had. And though Warren was silent as we left Greta and headed toward Saturn's Orchard, he didn't need to say anything. His anger arrowed inside of me in white-hot flashes that burst in my core, rippling outward to die in my limbs. What remained, though, was a shard of well-hidden guilt that the anger had encased like a hard, protective sh.e.l.l.

Warren shot me a quick glance as we ascended a stout stairwell, his jaw clenching, and the feeling immediately subsided.

I looked away, pretending I hadn't noticed, but it made me wonder. What did Warren have to feel guilty about?

There was a single door facing us as we reached the top of the landing, and Warren stepped aside so I could peer through the window. After a moment, despite it all, I felt a smile slip over my face. There were people; a few I recognized, a few I didn't, but that wasn't why I was smiling. In a room of unrelieved white, mats lined the floor and lower walls, and punching bags dangled from steel beams set at cross purpose to one another. Along the far wall were baskets of ropes, pads, and mitts, full to overflowing. It was a dojo. Sure, it was shaped like a pyramid, and its walls were mirrored from floor to pointy little tip, but it was a dojo all the same. For the first time since yesterday I felt at home.

The tight handful of people-and tight they were; you could read it in their closed expressions, their crossed arms, their wary attentiveness-seemed to have been waiting for us. Greta's tea turned acidic in my belly as I looked at them, the mirrors in the room making it appear there were more of them than there were. I didn't even have to sniff at the air to know Chandra had already relayed what had happened in the sick ward.

"Attention, please," Warren said unnecessarily. "This is Olivia, the new Archer of our Zodiac."

Nods and murmured greetings met this, which I answered with one of my own. I let my eyes pa.s.s over Chandra, who'd begun scowling the moment we'd stepped through the door, and settled on Vanessa's face, open and friendly by comparison, though I noted a wariness there that I hadn't seen in the locker room.

Micah was hunched in the corner, on a bench that looked like it might give at any moment under the towering bulk of his weight. Felix was stretching, and he sent me a little hand wave from the center of the mat. There was another man I didn't recognize leaning against the incline of the far wall, one leg propped behind him, arms folded over his chest as he openly studied me with dark eyes.

One by one I began to do the same, sizing each of them up, quickly filing them into three categories. Possible allies; Micah, Felix and Vanessa. Adversaries; certainly Chandra. And the X factor, the man I had yet to meet. There was Warren, of course, but sometimes I just couldn't tell with him.

"As Olivia hasn't been raised in the Zodiac, she doesn't yet know where her talents lie, she doesn't have a personal conduit, she can't track Shadow agents, and for now she can't leave the sanctuary..."

"Some superhero," Chandra muttered.

"We've already found her to be athletic and a quick learner, but she knows nothing of our history or the way we wage war so she has a lot of catching up to do. I expect all of you to help her, and in time I have confidence she'll live up to her...potential."

He'd been about to say something else. I caught the syllables wanting to form on his lips, but he'd changed his mind at the last moment. Still, we were connected, and the words neatly formed themselves in my own mind. Lineage. Legacy. Legend.

So he still wanted to believe, I thought, glancing over at him. What'd happened with Tekla hadn't changed that, at least.

"If she's so helpless, how'd she kill Butch?"

All heads turned to the man across the room. His brown eyes flickered when they met mine, but his face remained otherwise expressionless, no emotion skimming the surface of that still exterior, no judgment one way or the other as he looked at me to answer.

Well, two could play at that game. I batted my eyelashes, folded my hands in front of me, and answered as Olivia would. "He tripped."

"Tripped?" Chandra repeated coldly.

"Over my cat."

It was more in keeping with Olivia's image than, say, Oh, I tortured the b.a.s.t.a.r.d until he keeled over and bled out at my feet. To my surprise, they all began to nod. Except for the lone man I didn't know. He just continued to watch me with that cool and steady gaze. Probably not in the ally category, I thought wryly.

"So, you had a warden even before you knew you were a member of the Zodiac troop?" Felix asked. "That means you're highly intuitive."

"Intuition is a talent we all share," Chandra muttered.

Vanessa, either missing or ignoring the venom in her voice, added, "We augment that with other talents that complement our place in the Zodiac."

"What other talents?" I asked, fighting to keep my eyes from straying to the corner man. With him, I couldn't even fathom a guess.

"Start with your talisman," Micah said, standing. "What is it?"

"Your glyph," Warren said, nudging me.

"Okay." I unzipped my fitted jacket.

"One guess where her talents lie," Chandra muttered.

I faltered, cheeks flushing hotly, and began to zip it up again.

"No, it is a talent," the man told her, and this time when I looked at him, I saw something other than mild disinterest. He pushed off from the wall, moving lithely, almost sliding toward me. In the way of most alpha males, he took up a lot of s.p.a.ce.

"People will underestimate you," he said, coming to a stop in front of me. "They'll see only the shape of you, the curves and swells and softness. It's as much a camouflage as fatigues and face paint in the Amazon, because people will see what they expect to see." He gave me a smile that said, But we know different.

I had a sudden urge to slap that look off his face. Whatever he thought he knew about me couldn't compare to the reality of who I was, or who I'd been. He didn't f.u.c.king know me at all. But I held still, watching carefully as he reached out and lowered my zipper for me. "And you are?"

"Hunter," he supplied, as respectfully as a man could when he had a hand on your top. His skin, I noticed, was that pale gold that couldn't be bottled or bought; the hair, glossy and black and gathered in a low, blunt ponytail. As contained, I thought, as the rest of him. After opening my jacket, he moved to the side so the others could see. I kept my hands steady as I stretched the sport tank down, but it was an effort. The places where his fingers had skimmed my flesh were warm, like little pilot lights had been ignited beneath the surface.

I kept my eyes firmly away from Warren. I didn't want to see his smirk, or that knowledge in his eyes, because I knew he could feel the effect this Hunter was having upon me. So I just kept my head down as I revealed the skin just above the point where my cleavage began to rise.

"Hunter's our weaponeer and head tactician," Warren supplied, a smile in his voice. b.a.s.t.a.r.d. "Anything martial lies in his sphere of expertise."

I decided a little animosity would go a long way toward helping me regain my equilibrium, so I tilted my head and glanced back up at Hunter. "Anything?"

Hunter shrugged, the slightest of movements. "I'm Aries. Physicality is where my talents lie."

"Hand combat?" I asked. I tried not to sound challenging. Really, I did.

Okay, no I didn't.

"Why?" he said, rising to the bait, and I saw what he meant about his physicality. He'd barely moved a muscle and yet there seemed to be less s.p.a.ce between us than before. "You like to fight?"

I ignored Warren when he cleared his throat next to me, and shrugged, just an innocent lamb waiting to take instruction from Mr. Martial Arts. I quirked a brow at him. "I like to win."

"At what? Candyland?"

I whirled to give Chandra a fist-sized example of "at what," but Warren was there, blocking me with his body, eyes burrowing into mine. "I have to leave now. I have a session with Greta. I trust you'll be fine without me, Olivia?"

The memory of Warren's suspicion as it roiled hot in my gut flashed in my mind. One guess, I thought, pursing my lips wryly, as to what this "session" was about. "Then trust must be one of your major talents," I said, so low only he could hear, turning my animosity on him.

He shot me a look of bland disapproval, which I returned with a wrinkle of my nose and a little finger wave. Just like Olivia.

"So what is it?" Micah said, leaning forward to look at my glyph after Warren's strange slap-and-slide gait had receded from earshot. I used the opportunity to back away from Hunter, glancing down as the others crowded in closer. The shape of it was pale against my skin, a birthmark in reverse, and I shuddered, recalling how it had burned on my chest, pulsing there like a second heart. "It's a stiletto."

Chandra scoffed. "It's not a stiletto. It's a f.u.c.king bow and arrow."

I looked again and saw that she was, just possibly, right. Oh, G.o.d. Peroxide poisoning. Already. I glared at Micah as embarra.s.sment washed over me. This was followed by a surprising flash of disappointment. A part of me, it seemed, had wanted it to be a stiletto.

"It's just smeared," I said stubbornly, and turned to the mirrored wall behind me.

"Chandra's right," Hunter said, slipping behind me. Studying him through the mirrored surface, I decided my first impression of him had been wrong. He wasn't devoid of expression at all. The quirk of his mouth gave away a little spark of humor, and intelligence swam beneath hooded eyes. There was something commanding in the way he'd used up the room when he'd crossed to me, noting everything and nothing at the same time.

And despite the warning bells pealing through my mind, I had to wonder, Was there anything more alluring than a dangerous man?

Hunter reached out, broad shoulders blocking the view of the others, and lifted a hand to trace the lines of my glyph, lighting little arrows of fire along my flesh. "It is a bow and arrow. See?"

Olivia's voice, a happy twittering bluebird, bounced off the soft tissue of my mind. How lucky am I? It sang. First day on the job and I get a superhero boyfriend!

Meanwhile my own voice had fled me entirely. I just stood there, staring at my chest. Total nipple hard-on. Great. I glanced up into Hunter's face, now clearly amused. "And what's your talent?"

He smiled. "I have many."

I'll just bet.

"A bow and arrow is a strong talisman," he continued, his gravelly voice louder now. "Obviously it's the Archer's symbol, but it's a personal motif as well. I'll bet one of your talents is honesty-"

"To a fault," Micah chimed in.

"Determination. Loyalty. Pride."

"Don't let Hunter charm you," Chandra broke in. "All Archers have those qualities."

I turned to find myself facing hollow eyes, and knew then that she and I would never be friends. I raised one slim brow. "Do you?"

"In spades," she said, her upper lip curling.

"What do you know so far about conduits?" Hunter asked, moving to stand between us.

Conduits are conductors of energy; conductors of the agent's express will. Each conduit is specifically made for its handler; to compliment his or her talents, and channel his or her will through means of violence, death and gore. Though Olivia, of course, would never have put it that way.

"Uh, well, most of them are pretty sharp," I said, drawing laughs from Micah and Felix. Hunter narrowed his eyes, Chandra rolled hers. "I know they come in different shapes, sizes, some of them are pyrotechnic, and each one is made to complement the strengths of its owner."

There. That was a nicely balanced answer. Not too embarra.s.sing.

"That's right. When I design a weapon, I take into consideration the agent's particular physical and mental strengths, then fashion a conduit specifically for their hands. It takes on a life of its own that way. Becomes your companion, your match. Of course, that means I need complete honesty if the weapon is to maximize all your gifts. Do that, though, and I'll create something to suit your temperament, your mind, and your heart."

"Something that blows bubbles from its tip, perhaps?"

"Jesus, Chandra." Felix dropped his head into his hands. I could tell he, and the rest of them, thought I wasn't going to be able to handle this angry little hermaphrodite. Laughable, though it meant I was doing my job at being Olivia. I picked lint off my jacket, as if I hadn't heard.

Hunter unsheathed-or unraveled, rather-his own conduit, and offered it to me. It was a twelve-foot-long whip, with barbed tips studding the lower half of the slim black leather.

My heart began to pound. Down, girl.

"What else do you know about their use?"

I took the whip in hand, studying it carefully, and this time pride had me elaborating a degree. "I know if you're struck by an enemy's conduit, you'll die, even if you're more than human. But if you use a conduit against its own agent, its companion," I said, using his word for the weapon wielder, "you win a little something in their death. A bit of their power, and a rush of energy, a temporary high. They die, and you have twelve hours to walk this earth undetected. n.o.body can find you; human, Shadow, or Light. It's like you don't even exist."

Hunter held out his hand. I glanced at it as I handed his conduit back. You could tell a lot about a person by studying their hands. His were tanned and elegant, despite the calluses studding his palm.

"Butch?" he asked, coiling the whip.

I nodded.

"How did it feel?"

I glanced at Vanessa. "I felt invisible. Invincible."

The room was silent. "No one else has ever done that. Used a conduit against its own Shadow companion. It's a powerful magic."

"It fits the legend-" Felix said, looking at Hunter.

"Oh, come on," Chandra said abruptly. "This? This...cream puff is the Kairos? The gifted individual on whom all our fates hinge? I mean, get real!"

n.o.body said anything, though, and she folded her arms over her chest. "Didn't any of you hear what I said about Tekla?"

"And didn't you hear me say that if you were going to start that up again you should do it in front of Warren?" Micah answered sharply. "You know how he feels about...her." He motioned my way, and for the first time I saw a shadow flicker across his gaze. I straightened with a jolt as it struck me that Micah might not fully believe in me himself.

"Warren was there! He saw Tekla accuse her!" Chandra said, challenging me to deny it. "She did, didn't she? She called you a traitor!"

"Oh, and your perception wouldn't happen to be skewed in any way, would it, Chandra?"

"Shut up, Felix."

"Shut up, Felix," he mimicked.

I'd stopped paying attention to the two of them, though. The room had darkened, and I felt a shift as though the ground itself was moving. Then color swirled over the mirrored walls, psychedelic waves turning the room into a cavernous love shack. Charles Manson's love shack, I thought, shuddering as an onyx wave washed over me.

"It's a mood room," Vanessa said in answer to my unspoken question. "It reacts to emotion. When we train it follows the battle, tracking who's winning. See those circles over there?"

I did. Through the colorful spears of light bounding across the mat, two diametrically opposed ovals faced off against one another.

"Go stand on one," she urged.

I stepped forward and found the surface spongy, rather than firm like a normal dojo mat. But there was no risk of twisting an ankle. It just seemed to move with my feet, reaching up through my arches to support my movement. Gaining the first circle, the colors suddenly whipped away from the floor and walls, replaced by infinite blackness, as if I was standing on a platform in the middle of the universe. Thus, I realized, the spongy floor. If not for the support, I'd have lost all sense of equilibrium. Then tiny lights popped up, stars p.r.i.c.king the universe, and floating among them was a tilted cross with an arrow on one end.

"Huh. The Archer's glyph," Felix said, looking pointedly at Chandra. "Never seen that before."

"f.u.c.k yourself..." she muttered, but the jab seemed to take some of the wind from her sails. "You didn't see it. You didn't see him."

"All right. Enough." I stepped out of the circle and the universe flickered, then died away. The mirrored walls of the pyramid reappeared, blinding, but only for a moment. "How can I possibly be a traitor? I just got here. I didn't even know about the Zodiac or this troop until a few weeks ago...right, Micah? I certainly didn't know about Stryker."

"It doesn't matter," Chandra insisted before Micah could speak. "Tekla is psionic, and she's psychic...or she was. She can see what you're going to do. She knows it even before you do."

"So she was telling the future back there? That I was going to betray you all?" I looked around for a reaction. No one answered yes, but no one said no either. I shook my head in exasperation and disgust. "Why would I? I have nothing to gain from it."

"Your father does."