Part 6 (1/2)

”You were a wielder once,” I said, holding the knife out to him. ”It seems like you're meant to be one again.”

He let out a heavy breath. I knew what was going through his mind: Katie, Aunt Julie, leaving Pentagram Strike Force in someone else's hands. But sometimes we didn't get to choose our destinies. Tink had made sure I understood that. Finally, he reached out to take the knife.

The handle stayed dark and cold in his hand.

Chapter Eight.

”Wait,” I said. ”That wasn't supposed to happen.”

The look of relief on Mike's face was plain. ”Maybe you had your wires crossed.”

”But, the spirit said ... ” Oh, G.o.d. This wasn't right. It couldn't be. Because the alternative-no, I wouldn't think about that yet. ”Here, I'll take it back and we'll see if it wants to transfer to someone else.”

He handed it to me, smiling. ”Dodged a bullet, huh?”

”Um, yeah.” My mind spiraled a thousand scenarios as we joined the team in the operations room-none of them good. Finally, I whispered. ”Show me home again.”

Here. Parker's knife-spirit flashed up a mental picture of Uncle Mike's house.

My chest heaved like I'd been running. How I could give the knife to its rightful owner without hating myself for it? Would Mike ever forgive me?

You hesitate. Parker's knife-spirit sounded disappointed. You promised.

Give the boy a minute, will you? Tink said firmly. This isn't going to be easy, not for him nor several other people here.

Sometimes I was so grateful she had my back, but waiting would only delay the pain I was about to cause. After taking a moment to steady myself, I waved Aunt Julie over. ”Captain Tannen? I need to talk to you.”

Mike's head popped up from the reports he was reviewing on Davis's laptop screen. Yeah, he knew where this was headed.

”Matt, why don't you come here a minute?” he barked. ”I need to talk to you.”

Julie shot him a quizzical glance. ”Give us a second, sir.” She shook her head. ”He's wound really tight today. Anyway, what do you need?”

Feeling sick down deep, I held Parker's knife out. ”You need to take this from me.”

”Captain Tannen!” Uncle Mike's voice was like a thunderclap. ”Don't.”

My aunt's shoulders relaxed and she seemed more dangerous in that moment than I'd ever seen. Without heeding her husband's-her commanding officer's-warning, she reached for the knife's handle.

Which promptly flashed blue and hummed in content.

Everything stopped. I don't think any of us breathed, except for Mike, who was staring in horror at his wife.

Our new wielder smiled the most bada.s.s smile I'd ever seen. ”Well,” Aunt Julie said. ”That's better.”

”Better?” Mike cried. ”Better? You can't go into combat. You can't. We have to find someone else.”

She turned on him, and if I'd been my uncle, I would've eaten every one of those words with ketchup to make sure I choked all of them down. While everyone else backed up against the walls, Uncle Mike stood stubborn in the center of the room as Aunt Julie closed the s.p.a.ce between them, as deadly and beautiful as a lioness.

”My maiden name was Hunter,” she said calmly. ”Every man on my father's side was one. Then my dad had two girls. But that didn't mean the end of the hunters in that family. I can do this, Colonel. I believe it, and so does the knife. He's telling me so right now.”

”You can hear him? The knife-spirit?” Jorge asked, his strange eyes alight with excitement. ”Truly?”

”Of course,” Julie said, looking confused. ”Aren't I supposed to?”

”Yes, eventually,” Ramirez said. ”You just tuned in faster than most of us did.”

”Except Cruessan,” I added. ”He came online immediately.”

”During a fight,” Ramirez said. ”The captain isn't under threat. That's what makes it so unusual.”

He had a point. ”It took me months to hear Tink for the first time.”

”And it took two years for Parker and me to hear ours,” Ramirez added.

”Maybe this is a sign that the captain belongs here, Colonel,” I said. ”In fact, I'm certain it is.”

”You don't need a sign to know that,” Aunt Julie said, her posture straight and proud. ”You call me Bada.s.s Aunt Julie, and now I get to prove how well that nickname fits.”

A little part of me was pumping my fist, screaming, ”h.e.l.l, yes!” A bigger part felt a growing fear that my cousin would lose at least one parent before we finished this fight.

And Uncle Mike must've felt it, too, from the way his fists were clenched as he glared at Jorge, then me, as if we were to blame for putting a knife in his wife's hand. The glare wasn't the usual Colonel Tannen cold stare. No, this one was angry and betrayed, like we'd failed him in the most fundamental way possible. A heaviness settled in my gut; this was a look I'd hoped never to see aimed at me. And now it was. That hurt worse than any wound I'd ever been given. Like a smack in the face from someone I loved, someone I would die for.

A man I'd spent my life trying to make proud.

Sick, tired and sore-cut deep from what I'd seen and been through today-I backed out of the room, never breaking eye contact with Uncle Mike.

When his expression faded to a confused misery, I didn't know if it was because he fully realized what this meant for Julie, or because he hadn't meant to saddle me with the blame. Either way, he couldn't take it back now and I couldn't take any more.

So I left.

”Matt, honey?” Mom called as we walked through the lobby of the Ritz Carlton. Given the ragtag nature of our group, we would've received stares from the guests anyway, but the pointing and whispers told me everyone here knew who we were. One more burden I didn't feel like shouldering.

I hadn't said a word to anyone since I left the operations room. Parker's loss weighed even heavier knowing what it had caused. Mike had quietly kept trying to talk Julie out of accepting the knife. After two hours' worth of arguments, she'd stopped calling him Colonel and had started calling him You Giant a.s.s. Even that seemed like my fault.

So now, heedless of Mom's calls, of Mamie's worried glances, of Ella's steadfast protection during the ride to make sure everyone left me alone, I strode ahead. I was seconds away from losing it and I needed to stay together long enough to hit the elevator.

I punched the up b.u.t.ton repeatedly, clutching my room card-key like it was a lifeline. Mom scurried from the front desk after me, but I needed to be alone. The elevator dinged and the doors opened. I jabbed the b.u.t.ton for the twelfth floor, sagging in relief when the doors closed before Mom closed the distance between us. Shaking with fatigue, I sank into a crouch with my hand over my eyes.

Be easy, Matt. Be easy.