Bianca wanted to be free, and she’d had enough of being babysat by a woman with no eyes and a girl who came and went as easily as her bouts of nausea and splitting headaches and violently itchy skin. She had no idea how long it had been since she’d stumbled through their front door, but she knew one thing: her mom was going to kill her. And painfully. Her phone was dead. The power this deep in Lower Olympus fluctuated every other hour and killed most appliances, and the woman with black eyes didn’t seem to care about that one bit. She hadn’t showered in days. Her hair was clumpy and sweaty. Her mouth was stale. Fingernails chipped and black. And she’d had enough of this.

  So when Ruslana got up that morning and headed for the front door, Bianca folded her arms and stood in front of her, not letting her move—even though she knew deep down Ruslana could shove her out of the way with a flick of her hand if she really wanted to. But no more. No more sitting on the couch, falling asleep on the couch, eating on the couch, losing her mind on that goddamned couch! She wanted to leave, and she didn’t want to be a prisoner, and no matter how hard and gray and steely Ruslana’s eyes were, Bianca squared her jaw and stared back.

  “Is there something you want?” Ruslana quietly asked her.

  “I want to leave,” Bianca said, almost through her teeth. Quiet. The Witch was in the other room, silently chanting and doing God-knows-what in there, making the entire apartment reek of bleach and rot. “And soon, too.”

  Ruslana barely blinked. “You’d get killed out there. All I’m doing is protecting you.”

  “I’m losing my mind staring at the ceiling all day long,” Bianca hissed. She jabbed her finger into Ru’s chest. The girl barely moved, let alone glanced at her index finger pressing into the bird crest on her chest. “And you’ve got no freaking right to keep me here! I am a person, not some house pet like that cat. I want to leave. Now.”

  “A lot of people want you dead,” Ruslana said simply. She put her hand on Bianca’s shoulder and gently forced her out of the way. “And until Olympia returns, this is probably the safest place you can be right now, too.”

  Bianca forced herself between the door and the white-haired girl, arms spread, eyes set. “I miss my mom.”

  Ruslana blinked slowly, almost like she was bored. “How fascinating, but I’ve got work to get to.”

  An idea flashed across her mind. A stupid, sudden idea, and maybe it was this thing inside of her that was silently raging, trying to shatter whatever binds the Witch had put on it, but Bianca liked it—liked it so much she was almost giddy. She grabbed Ruslana’s toned shoulders and said, “Fine, then…how about I go out there and—”

  “No,” she said, then shrugged Bianca off. “If you get caught up in any of this, Olympia won’t be happy.”

  Rylee this, Rylee that—what about what I fucking want for once?

  “She’s not my mom,” Bianca said bitterly, maybe too harshly. “I can make decisions for myself.”

  “You actively want to make the choice to maybe get killed?”

  Bianca shrugged. “If it means I’m not stuck here forever.”

  “Olympia—”

  “God, I get it!” Bianca snapped. She forced herself to breathe, and also to remember it wasn’t Rylee’s fault she was in this place to begin with either. She just… She hated it. Hated feeling like she was renting her own body as something else tried to crawl around her heart and make it beat for itself instead. “Look,” Bianca muttered. “I’m going to lose my mind staying here, and I don’t know when Rylee’s coming back.” Ruslana shifted on her boots, folded her arms. Bianca took a shaky breath. “I promise you I won’t get in your way, alright? Hell, maybe I’ll find a working landline and call my mom and tell her I’m doing fine.” Even if that was a bold-faced lie. “Please, Ru?”

  “And what happens when we’re far enough from Witchling that what’s inside of you comes out?”

  Then what, Bianca? Are you gonna stumble around, talking to ghosts and trying to eat people?

  Bianca put on as convincing of a smile as she could. “Then I trust you to be able to stop me.”

  “That’s an extra tactical burden I didn’t account for today, Bianca.”

  She gently punched her bicep. “Then trust me that I’ll be able to stop it. C’mon, my whole life other people have told me what to do, like I’m this kid and I’m too stupid to make my own decisions. Let me do this at least.”

  “Do you even know what I’ve been sent out to do?” Ru asked her. “What if I kill someone in front of you?”

  Bianca smiled a little thinner. “I’ve seen plenty of dead bodies by now. They don’t spook me anymore.”

  “That’s not what I’m saying.”

  “Rylee killed people,” Bianca said flatly. “I know she killed people. I watched it on national television just like everyone else as I had my cereal right before school. Bad people deserve to die sometimes, that’s just how it is.”

  Ruslana raised an eyebrow. “I thought you’d be a little more…put off by Olympia killing people.”

  “You think I don’t want to kill the guy who took my brother from me? Or Katie? Or hurt Rylee?” Bianca shrugged again, an even smaller movement. “I’m human, we all get angry and hateful—except my brother’s gone and so is my big sister, and now Rylee’s hurt somewhere and I’ve got no clue where that is, so…” Bianca smiled. “If it’s for the right reasons, then sure, why not? And it’s not like handing ‘em over to the police will help right now.”

  Ruslana stared at her for several seconds, face unreadable. Bianca had gotten used to the blank stares and the empty glances, because she was so impossibly hard to read there just wasn’t any point in trying anymore. But she knew that look, and she almost fist pumped the air when Ruslana quietly sighed through her teeth and reached for the door behind Bianca. Except this time, when she was leaving, she left the door open behind her, and that left Bianca jogging after her down the hallway, with the sleek black cat peeking padding along at her feet, meowing and mewling and almost tripping her up. But she was outside, she was free, and she wasn’t stuck in the dark with a Witch who could read her thoughts.

  The 12th Avenue Kaiju Attack had been international news for weeks, but Bianca had been so hopped up on fear and adrenaline and nerves that it didn’t click in her head what she’d just seen. People torn apart by animal-human hybrids. Guts hanging loose from bodies. A kid getting gnawed on by animals that pinned him down and laughed in his face when he kept wailing. Olympia had stopped a lot of them, the ones that caught her eye. Not the ones she had found in the dark of the mall, in corners and in bathrooms, where they pulled people apart and chewed on their guts and spat out bits they didn’t like. And, right now, the church pews in front of her looked just like the dark mall.

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  Bianca’s stomach lurched into her throat. She bent over and vomited next to her feet. The smell. That was what got to her, not the sight—it was hot today, which meant the church was warm, and so were the piles of gore and remains covering almost every square inch in the church, from the altar and the cross, to the pews draped with sheets to stop flies from festering in open wounds. But the wind had swept through the doors and thrown sheets through the air, exposing mangled limbs and crushed skulls and bits of teeth scattered all over the bloody floors.

  It crossed her mind that maybe Ruslana was right, and she should probably sit this one out.

  Heck, she should probably be helping her mom make lunch right now, or be in her room, feet up against the wall, tossing gummy worms into her mouth as she scrolled through Olympia breaking news headlines. Not…

  “Oh, man,” she breathed quietly.

  Ruslana grunted beside her.

  Their shadows streaked across the floor as they stood in the doorway, like two jagged fingers prying the church open to see what that stench could possibly be in here. Bianca glanced over her shoulder. Loose police tape fluttered in the wind, sun-baked and dry like the pavement beyond the steps leading to the church. People hurried past the old stone building, noses in the crooks of their elbows as the smell soaked into the wind. How do people not even look at this place? The Upper West would probably be halfway through a riot right now because there weren’t any police on the scene or Capes trying to figure out who the hell could’ve murdered so many people.

  This would be the kind of news that shut down avenues and public areas for weeks.

  But down here…

  It was just something to flinch at and not pay attention to.

  How the hell did Rylee live like this? How did she not lose her freaking mind?

  “I think I’m gonna throw up again,” Bianca groaned.

  Ruslana walked inside the church, pushing open the doors a little wider, shoving bodies against pews and columns. The shattered stained glass windows glittered. Blood, still fresh enough to shine and stink of metal, gleamed in the sunlight and turned black in the dark. Bianca tentatively followed Ruslana, fingers twisting around one another, stomach snarling with… God, am I hungry? Right now? No, the Thing was hungry. Not her. It smelt something it liked, something it wanted. The roof of her mouth got slimy, and saliva filled the back of her throat.

  Ruslana stopped, looked around, her nose twitching and eyes sharp. She tensed her jaw.

  “Can I ask why we’re even here?” Bianca whispered. Jesus was looking down at her from his Cross, so she might as well be quiet. Well, he would be, if his head hadn’t been taken off his neck and left at his feet. “‘Cause…”

  Shouldn’t the police get involved? The Olympiad? Someone?

  Ru sighed and crouched, dragging two fingers through a bloody puddle at her feet. “It’s not the first time. Attacks like this have been happening a lot more, but since we're on this side of the river, it isn’t exactly big news.”

  “How?” Bianca said tightly, waving her arm around as flies hummed in the air. “This isn’t big news?”

  “It’s unfortunate, just not big.” Ruslana stood, frowned, then got closer to a shattered pew hiding what must be a kid’s body, but Bianca wouldn’t look or get closer—not so much as a muscle twitched to inch over to what Ruslana had found: a tooth. Sharp, bloody, and too big to fit into a human’s mouth, wedged into a piece of pulpy gray brain matter. She held it up to the light and turned it in her fingers. “Figured,” she muttered. She looked at Bianca as she slid the tooth into a pouch on her belt. “This would be the perfect time to go back home, trust me.”

  The thought played in her mind, but being there alone with the Witch was an even worser thought.

  Not when her brain had been groped and touched and slid through so easily.

  God only knew what she was doing to Bianca when she was asleep on the couch.

  So she shook her head and shakily smiled. “I wanted to stick it out, right? I…can help somehow.”

  Ruslana said, “Would you ever trust a Kaiju, Bianca?”

  She frowned. “What kind of questions is that? Of course I would.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “Don’t be stupid and don’t act naive, you know what I’m asking you.”

  Bianca swallowed. The air in here reeked so badly it was starting to soak into her saliva. “Well, they’re not all bad, right? Just like how regular people aren’t all good. So I guess it depends, but if I had to pick one…I would.”

  Ruslana shook her head slowly, amusement almost—almost, but barely—playing across her face. “Why?”

  Bianca shrugged one shoulder, then swatted a fly with the back of her hand. Too many to get rid of with just one swing, way too many to push the stink away from her face. “Why not? Maybe everyone just needs to try trusting each other a little more. If people weren’t so afraid of Kaiju, then we’d probably be a lot happier, too.”

  Ruslana’s brow furrowed. “That’s simplistic, almost childish. Trusting a Kaiju gets you killed.”

  “And my brother trusted a superhero who got him killed,” Bianca said, her voice suddenly on edge. She suddenly felt anger from deep inside of her, like the worms were bleeding it into her veins. “Like I said, it depends.”

  “On what?” Ruslana asked quietly.

  “Dunno, gut feeling, my head…whichever’s gonna work,” she said. Her brain was foggy. Her stomach was a hungry-filled mess. So right now, she’d have to just trust herself. Hopefully. She didn’t even really know who she was anymore, either. “Did a Kaiju do all of this? Is that what you’re asking, to see if I’m gonna be on your side?”

  “To see if you’re gonna argue with me into trying to believe the lie we’re about to be told.” Ruslana walked past her and tapped the pouch with the tooth inside of it. “They call themselves The Pride. They’re a group of Kaiju who aren’t happy sharing Lower Olympus with regular people anymore. Attacks like this happen often and frequently. It stops people from grouping together. It puts fear into the streets, makes walking around at night too much for someone who can’t defend themselves. I’m not much of a protractor. What I am is…an enforcer, and with Olympia gone, I’ll keep enforcing fear into the kinds of people she’d also hate. On the one hand, I’m struggling to care about any of these dead people.” Bianca bristled. “On the other, The Pride is making things harder to keep steady, and the more they do this, the angrier everyone becomes, and I’ve seen war, Bianca—war isn’t pretty, and that’s something I can sympathize with. In comparison to where I’m from, Lower Olympus is heaven, so let’s go.”

  Bianca blinked, then stopped Ruslana with a hand on her shoulder. “This place is heaven? Where did—”

  Another shrug. Another glance, bare and passive. “Would it change you, knowing where I came from?”

  She pulled her fingers away, like Ruslana was a sparking live wire. “No, but—”

  “Then let’s go, Bianca,” she said. “We’ve got a pack of old dogs to put down.”

  “Did Witchling send you to do this?” Bianca asked her, the black cat staring at them from the doorway, a tiny thing licking blood off its tiny padded paws.

  Ruslana snorted. “She doesn’t care about anything except what she’s doing right now. Circe sent me.”

  “And what exactly does Witchling even care about except, you know, evil and witch stuff?”

  “Bianca,” Ruslana said, stopping suddenly. “Questions get you killed here, because information costs more than a lot of people’s lives, so the less you know, the easier it is to stay alive. Learn only what you have to.” She started walking again, her shadow growing longer as she walked into the sunlight. “So, are you coming?”

  “Yeah,” Bianca muttered, glancing over her shoulder. Blood. Bodies. Piles of guts and severed heads and slit open throats and torsos cut open and kids and men and women and— Bianca swallowed saliva. A lot of saliva. Her nose twitched. Something sickly sweet was in the air, almost raunchy and sensual, but also nasty, so ugly in her mouth she wanted to spit. But an eyeball was staring up at her from a bloody puddle, and she felt like puking again.

  She didn’t, not this time. She swallowed, flinched at the taste, and slowly left the church.

  But not before the tiny black cat studied her, watched her, from behind its tiny hooked claws. Bianca reached down and plucked it off the ground, scratched under its chin to its annoyance and smiled at the tiny thing.

  Its eyes were intelligent, almost scarily intelligent. Healthy. Slick. Shiny coat, toned thin muscles.

  She wondered…

  “Bianca,” Ruslana said from the bottom of the stairs. She blinked. Swallowed saliva. The cat hissed at her and struggled out of her arms, landed on the ground, bared its teeth, then pattered away. Bianca shook her head and pressed a hand to her temple. Get a fucking grip, Bianca. A cat? Seriously? What the hell is wrong with you?

  It almost felt like her nature to have wanted to sink her teeth into the cat and tear it apart.

  Like an animal.

  Like some Kaiju.

  God, she was hungry. So hungry.

  Something told her it was only going to get even worse.