Calm down. Do your job, she told herself.
You got him killed. You took your eye off him long enough for that demon to get him.
The crosshairs wavered over the Blade Minion’s chest.
People die in this business. Leah’s first handler had told her that the first day she’d met him. People die in this business. It’s what you hire on to do. Whether for patriotism or money, and for your sake I hope it’s both, people die. Hopefully you’ll help us keep the balance sheets in order.
That day they’d just gotten the body of an agent back. Her handler—he’d been code-named Winder and she’d never found out his real name or anything about him—had shown her the young man’s body. He’d been brutally tortured for weeks. At the end, he’d been decapitated.
The exfiltration team wasn’t able to save this poor bloke, Winder said. They certainly weren’t able to pull his body back into any condition we can allow his poor mum to see. But one thing they were able to do before they brought him home.
Leah had waited. She’d been scared to death and mad and sickened all at the same time. She didn’t know how she was supposed to act, and Winder had given her no clue.
Before they left that despicable little African nation, Winder had said, they balanced the sheets. That tinpot warlord is wormfood now. He stared at the young man’s body. Sometimes in this business, that’s all that you can hope for: that someone will balance the books for you when you’re taken from the board due to your own bad luck or inadequacies.
Leah had stood silently there and stared at the body.
Go on and tell yourself that this will never happen to you, Winder said. Tell yourself that you’re that good or that lucky. Maybe you’ll even believe it. At least for a while. But some night, whether in the safety of your own bed or in some transient hotel where you’re hiding out under another name and risking all you’ve got on an op you don’t fully understand, you’ll realize that this will happen to you.
Leah had tried to wall herself off from the sensory overload of the dead body. In addition to the horrific sight, the smell of death crowded the small coroner’s room.
He’s going to be quietly buried, Winder said. No glorious homecoming for him. And do you know why?
Shaking a little, Leah had shaken her head.
Because MI-6 can’t claim him, Winder had said. The Queen has to disavow him. His mum won’t even know how he got himself terminated. And isn’t that a lovely word for it? “Terminated”?
Leah had said no, that it wasn’t.
Winder had laughed. Maybe you’ll make a good agent then, missy. You don’t come in here singing “God Save the Queen” and spouting patriotic nonsense, maybe you’ll live longer. He sighed. This boy, he got sent to his death. Given an impossible mission. But it pulled his killer out into the open so the exfiltration team could take out the target.
That thought had horrified Leah.
Winder must have seen her reaction on her face at the time. She hadn’t learned to hide them so well back then. Now, she felt certain, he would never have known how his announcement struck her.
Then Winder had laughed at her. Don’t take it so bloody personal. He was doing his job. That’s all anyone ever asks of you here. Only sometimes they ask you to die. Not a very pretty thought, is it?
No, Leah had answered.
Well, that’s what you’re signing on for. Winder had patted the cheek of the amputated head. He was a good boy. Never asked any questions. He did everything right. Even died right. You can’t ask anything more than that. He’d paused and looked at her, still smiling incongruously. And do you want to know who was callous enough to send this poor sod off to die so painfully for his country?
Leah hadn’t been able to answer.
Do you know what kind of person it would take to do something so bloody awful? Winder had asked.
No, she’d said.
Me, he’d told her in that same soft voice. I sent him off to be tortured and finally executed by the cold-blooded bastard that did for him. Just so we could flush out the warlord that was our real target. What do you think about that?
Leah had gotten sick then. Winder had directed her over to a basin and she’d purged. When she’d finished throwing up, he’d washed her face with a warm cloth. The reflection of the dead agent had been in the mirror above the sink.
And if it comes time to do it, Winder had said softly, I’ll send you to die, too. Don’t you ever think I won’t. Every time I send you out the door, you have to realize that you might not be coming back. Knowing that is the first thing that’s going to help you stay alive.
Four months later, Winder was gone. No one had ever said what happened to him. Leah had asked once, and she’d been told that the question wasn’t allowed. She hadn’t asked again.
Leah pushed the bitter memories away. She’d known what she’d signed on for. She just hadn’t ever expected demons to be involved. Her imagination had only limited her to terrorists and enemies of state.
And the young agent had known what he’d signed on for as well.
She raised the Poseidon’s crosshairs from the Blade Minion’s chest to its horrid face.
Don’t try to be a hotshot, her range instructor had always taught her. Aim for the center of the body mass. Head shots are for American cowboys and trick shooters. You’re neither. You’re a killer, and you’re going to be the best killer I can make you.
Leah squeezed the trigger. The sniper rifle recoiled as it launched the bolt of spectral energy. The Blade Minion jerked sideways as the energy struck it in the temple. Visible damage through the sniper scope was limited to charred and bloody flesh. It didn’t
