“Och, ah barely scratched him.”
“You stabbed me,” said the ninja, his voice strained and grunty.
Broch frowned down at him. “Ye wur trying tae murder us.”
The wounded ninja’s body relaxed, his head lolling to the left.
Catriona tapped his foot with the toe of her shoe. “He passed out.”
Catriona moved toward the man writhing on the floor behind her.
“Who are you?”
The ninja had removed his mask and he spoke through gritted teeth. “You broke my knee.”
“You’re lucky that’s all I broke. Have you seen your friend? Who are you?”
The man lifted his chin, doing his best to look defiant. “We’re the Disciples of Pinky.”
Catriona squinted. “Really? Do you hear yourself? Why are you here?”
“Pinky’s been reborn. He’s teaching us.”
“Reborn, how?”
The man fell silent and Catriona kicked his leg. He howled in pain.
“Reborn, how?” she repeated.
“I don’t know. He called to us. Had us come here.”
“How did he call to you?”
He didn’t answer and Catriona cocked her leg, preparing to kick.
“No, no, wait! The dark web. I set up a page there called The Disciples of Pinky and he found it. He contacted me there.”
“So you’re all a bunch of sad, lonely serial killer groupies?”
The man grimaced. “We’re not groupies.”
“Uh huh.” She put down her foot and turned to Broch. “That explains why they were such terrible fighters. They’re a bunch of murder-nerds.”
“Acolytes,” muttered the man.
Catriona rolled her eyes. “Same thing. Where’s the other girl?”
“I don’t know.”
Catriona prepared to kick him again and he waved a hand at her.
“I swear! I swear. Pinky has her. I don’t know. He told us to stop anyone who came through here.”
“Did you see him? Who is he?”
“Who?”
“Pinky.”
“He’s Pinky.”
“Pinky is dead. Who is this new asshole?”
“I don’t know. We didn’t see him.”
“You just said he told you to wait for us. How? On the phone?”
“He told us to come here and then slid a note under the door.” The man nodded to the door farthest to the left.
Catriona shook her head. “Unbelievable. I wonder what’s behind door number three.”
“It’s just a room,” said the ninja.
She didn’t even have to raise a foot.
Chapter Sixteen
Anne Bonny looked up from where she sat squatting at the side of her bathtub. Inside, a wet, white dog stood looking as miserable as a creature could, all eyes and whiskers.
Anne’s boyfriend, Michael, stood in the doorway.
“So what’s wrong now? Is it this bad?” She motioned to the mutt as she gave him a vigorous towel dry.
The dog stared at him dolefully.
Michael frowned. “Worse.”
“I doubt he thinks so.” She slipped one arm beneath the dog’s chest and another under his butt and hefted him from the tub. The moment the mutt’s paws hit the floor he bolted out of the room shaking so hard he ping-ponged from wall to wall leaving wet smears on the paint.
Anne stood and pushed a strand of strawberry blonde hair from her eyes. “What’s up?”
Michael heaved a sigh as he spoke, as if he were blowing the words from his chest. “The Kairos are falling ill and—”
Anne held up a palm. “Hold on there, Sport. You already lost me. What’s a Kairos?”
She thought she was playing it well, but in truth, the moment she’d seen Michael’s face Anne had felt a heavy, wet, woolen cloak of dread drape around her shoulders. She’d spent most of the previous three hundred years—since her transformation from ‘famous female pirate’ to Sentinel—as a soldier for mankind’s mysterious guardians, the Angeli, hunting and rebooting infected rogues in their midst. Now, the battle was supposed to be over. All the infected Angeli had been fixed. She was off the hook, job done, with seven hundred years left to enjoy retirement.
But here was her favorite mystical Angelus, the head honcho himself, once again talking about creatures falling ill.
She could feel her retirement growing shorter by the second.
Michael took a deep breath, closed his eyes and then slowly released it as if he was tired of explaining life to a child.
She let it go.
“Kairos are enhanced humans like you,” he said studying his nails, which were perfect, of course. While Angeli only had one identity, it didn’t stop them from manifesting themselves as the most perfect version of that identity. Especially fastidious Michael. He never manifested clothes that didn’t cost more than most people’s apartments. His hair was always impeccable. And when he wanted a favor from her, he always manifested the sexiest little dimple in his left cheek...
Oh no.
There’s the dimple.
She groaned and Michael’s brow knit.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. So, Kairos are Sentinels like me?”
“No. They’re more like Angeli when it comes to their duties, but less...uh, proactive.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means we make changes to keep the world in order. Kairos simply inspire people to be better. Think of them as beacons of light. They inspire goodness in the people around them. We scatter them about time and space to inspire humans to help themselves. We can’t do everything ourselves.”
“Of course not. Poor babies. And these Kairos have Perfidia now too?”
Anne hated even saying the word. Perfidia was the disease that had ravaged the Angeli, turning some into monsters. Monsters she’d had to fight.
Michael shrugged one shoulder. “I’m not sure. It doesn’t look good. Something’s going on. We’ve been getting strange reports since about sixteen fifty-three.”
“Military time?”
“The year.”
“And you’re just looking into this now?”
The Angeli rolled his eyes. “We don’t perceive time the same—”
Anne huffed loudly
