Liandra's mouth was dry. Her body ached and she was finding it hard to concentrate. Of all the times for this to happen, she thought. Her fairies tried to comfort her, but it was no use. She felt behind the bangs that hid her scarred eyes. Cold sweat.

The thirst has me, she thought. Darken had kept it in check for so long, giving her a dose of soul power that seemed to ameliorate the hunger and the feral near-madness that seemed to come with it. But he wasn't here now.

She was frightened of what she might do like this. If the thirst consumed her sufficiently, she would go after anyone to slake it, and she couldn't have lived with herself for that. She had already condemned herself a thousand times for those few times she had actually fed.

She felt herself shivering. Keep control, she told herself. Her self didn't listen. She started pounding the wall, which woke Tralesta up with a start. Tigerhawk, in the meantime, hadn't been sleeping--he had been fiddling with the one weapon the Angels hadn't confiscated.

In gratitude for service in the Dragon Wars, Tigerhawk had been given angel wings, and his own special version of the Eagle Clasp, this one shaped in the effigy of the tiger god of his people. It had another advantage as well. It could open any door.

If he could only figure out how. He worked frantically, trying different combinations of mental commands and touch to trigger the effect. He hadn't thought much about the guards yet--he would worry about them when he got to them.

Gailion opened his eyes. The meditation had not worked. No matter how hard he tried, there was no running from the truth of Darken's words. Truth, he thought. In my arrogance, I ran from it while I parceled it out to others. Now, matters are as bad as they could possibly be.

What will I do? I cannot kill Alecto, no matter what has passed between us. But I must do something. Liandra will go mad soon, unless Darken can help her, and we must get the key back. But first, we must get out. I just wish I knew how.

"Darken?" There was a knock at the cabin door. It was Vertigo. She didn't wait for him to say yes or no, she just walked in. She blinked a few times--it was dark here. Darken sat on the shabby bunk. She could hear the soft gentle sobs.

He was crying.

She rested a hand on his shoulder. Darken flinched.

"What is it?" Darken asked, trying to sound composed.

"I wanted to see if you were all right," Vertigo said. "The last thing you said to Phoenix and I before we got on the ship was "I'm sorry." Then you came in here, the ship took off, and everyone's been worried."

Darken sobbed again.

Vertigo sat down on the edge of the bunk, and put an arm around him. He didn't flinch this time. "Want to talk about it?"

"No," Darken said. "I feel awful about it. It's my fault."

"The hell it is," Vertigo said. "I kissed you, remember?"

"I kissed you back."

Vertigo bit her lip. She raised an eyebrow. "If you want it like that," she began. "We're both at fault. Maybe we should both forgive each other the other's fault?"

Darken didn't say anything.

"Phoenix loves you," Vertigo said. "I can't compete with it. Hell, I wouldn't even know how to try. I hoped I could feel like she could, but I couldn't handle it. Being treated well. Maybe I don't deserve it."

Darken looked at her. His pale blue eyes glowed in the spare light of the room. "How can you say that?"

Vertigo looked at the floor, the cynicism and pain falling from her as she regarded the floor like a child regards the river in the moonlight. "Because," Vertigo said. "You'd insist on treating me well. Too good--better than I'm used to, and I'd be scared it was all going to end, and I'd hold the ashes of another dream in my hands."

"In another time," Darken began, reaching out to her. She took his hands nervously. "I would have tried my best to make you feel worthy."

Vertigo looked at his hands in hers. A million emotions lived and died in her eyes. Smiles, frowns, hopes, a dream, more--all in that instant. Finally, her face resolved into a determined look, and she pushed his hands away.

"Darken," she said, her voice now thick. "It means the world to me, that you’d try to save me. But I don't think it can be done. It's too late, too much has happened, and . . .I'm not sure I want to be saved anymore."

"Then why did you stay with us?"

Vertigo looked at him, her face still. A single tear rolled down her cheek. "Because," she said. "I don't know where I am, and I definitely don't know who I am, or what I want. And because of that . . .I want to be free. And I want to do some good on my way out."

She stood up. She walked to the door, and looked back at him. There was glimmer in her eyes--part of her yearned to be with him, and that part prayed that he would save her. It was the rest of her that she wasn't sure about.

"You say it like your life's over," Darken said.

Vertigo looked at him, opened the door, and left.

Adamov glared at Kirone. They were aboard her ship, the Morgana. Adamov had been watching these strange green-clad angels, wondering why they seemed so different from the angels he had seen before. And more than that, why did they seem silently deferential to Kirone?

"What are you looking at?" Adamov asked, his voice snarling.

"I just realized," Kirone said. "You don't breathe."

Adamov looked surprised. He hadn't even considered it; he had merely taken it for granted that he had. He looked down at his chest. It didn't rise and fall.

Adamov turned back to the Angels, working controls and manning weapons around them. "Why do these Angels obey you?" Adamov asked.

"These?" Kirone said, gesturing. "Oh you man why do they not try to arrest me, even when I'm in my natural form? It's because they're dead."

Adamov flinched. "What do you mean?"

"The Seketha reanimated them--war casualties and the like," Kirone said, waving a hand. "I needed an experienced crew, and I didn't care where they found them."

Adamov grit his teeth. "Have you no decency?"

"These are Angels," Kirone said. "They enslaved one half of my heritage, scorn the other half. They think of themselves as inheritors of the entirety of the spheres. They're wrong. It's mine."

Adamov looked at her. His eyes, still hard as steel, held a glimmer of sadness.

"No king or queen truly rules a kingdom of the dead," he said. He turned to look out the window again.

Kirone cocked an eyebrow. "So," she said. "Once you have Vertigo . . .what do you intend to do with her?"

"I intend to start our lives over again," he said. "Away from everyone."
"Laudable goal," Kirone said. "But impossible. You came here by accident, didn't you? How will you get back to where you were from?"

"Perhaps I do not wish to," Adamov lied.

"Probably," Kirone said. "You're not exactly pleasant company, and that . . .thing you do--oh, what did you call it? --Your "entropic erosion?"--Doesn't exactly help matters."

"I am surprised it hasn't worked on you," Adamov said.

"Apparently Vampires are immune," Kirone said. "As I happen to be half, that makes me exceedingly lucky, but I could . . .help you."

"For a price, no doubt."

"All things have a price, Adamov," Kirone said. "Help me to subjugate the peoples of the Spheres, and I'll give you one, to rule as your own, with no interference from me. You can make your home there with Vertigo."

"Don't you have some sort of vendetta with her?"

"I'd be willing to let it go for your help," Kirone said, smiling at him. "No vendetta is worth refusing your aid."

"I will think about it," Adamov said. He turned away again.

Darken had fallen asleep, but it was a sleep that had no peace for him. The gentle rocking of the Ghost Lion hadn't helped matters either. Nor had what Vertigo said to him. When she had kissed him, he has been confused and scared. Now he was just as confused, maybe more.

He felt arms around him, cradling his head. He opened his eyes slowly, trying to let his eyes adjust to the light.

"Romanova," he mumbled in recognition.

"I'm right here," she said, stroking his hair. She leaned over and kissed him, her long brown hair tickling his chest.

"I'm sorry," he said.

"I know," she said. "Vertigo told me."

"I don't deserve your forgiveness."

"Darken," Phoenix said. "Be quiet for a minute, all right? I want to say this."

Darken fell silent.

"When we first grew close," Phoenix began, caressing his face. "I told you I didn't know very much about love. And I'm still learning. You, on the other hand, know a little more about love than I did, but in your own way, you're still learning.

"I don't know if I can forgive what happened, because I'm still not certain what happened. Getting a straight answer from Vertigo about it is impossible, and you won't stop trying to crucify yourself for it for me to ask you. I also can't say I'll forget it. But I won't let it hurt me, if you'll promise to do one thing."

Darken looked up. Phoenix kissed him, deeply and tenderly on the lips. He felt the familiar butterflies in his stomach, and pulled her close. He was about to kiss her again when she put a finger to his lips.

"Forgive yourself, Darken," she said. "Please."

She kissed him again, and held him as the ship traveled through the night.

Tigerhawk had done it. He stood at the wall of the cell and tapped his Tiger Clasp. A ray of blue light hit the door and it dematerialized. The guards tried to restrain him, raising their spears, but Tigerhawk was too quick. He subdued them quietly, without causing any permanent damage to them. He rifled through the guards' pockets for the deactivators.

In short order, they were free.

Liandra was the last to exit, slowly, trembling. She saw the Seraphim, lying unconscious. The thirst had her so bad all she could hear was the rushing of their blood.

Gailion looked at her, then looked away. He bowed his head and nodded.

Liandra bent down and drank from one of them, just a little--just a bit to keep the thirst away. Her brow furrowed with the temptation to drain all of him, but she refused to give in.

She stood back up. She could feel Tralesta staring at her.

"Don't look at me," she said quietly.

"I wasn't--"

I SAID DON'T LOOK AT ME!"

Gailion put a hand on Tralesta's shoulder as the three of them tried to pry open the locker where their weapons were stored. Liandra felt the hot blush of shame in her cheeks. Gods, she thought. Darken, I'm sorry. I know I promised. I hope you can forgive me . . .

"Liandra," a voice said. Hand on her shoulder. Gailion.

"We have to go," he said. His voice was calm. Understanding. Gentle.

Liandra slowly got to her feet. They made their way down the passages until they came upon the very last thing any of them wanted to see.

Alecto, and a legion of Seraphim.

Gailion considered running back the way they came, but the legion they filled the hallway behind them caused him to reconsider.

Alecto walked up to Tigerhawk and ripped the Tiger Clasp from his chest.

"Restrain them, and bring them with us," Alecto said. "If they resist, kill them."

Liandra surged forward and was met my a bolt from one of the Seraphim's lances. She doubled over in pain, still crawling for Alecto.

PRACK! Another beam. Liandra crawled on her hands and knees.

PRACK! Liandra crawled on her stomach, clawed hands reaching for Alecto.

"STOP IT!" Gailion said, placing himself between the lance and Liandra. "Damn it, she's only a child!"

"A vampire child," Alecto said. "A young monster, but a beast all the same."

"Is that what Sandalphon taught you?" Gailion asked.

"You'll be able to ask him yourself soon enough," Alecto said, smiling thinly. "And for my sake, I hope he kills you for your insolence. And for befriending these . . .especially the Vampire. You're a traitor to your race."

Gailion looked at her. If he dared, he would have slapped her back to her senses, ignored the training he had followed these past 20 years and give into the rage and betrayal he felt at this moment.

Gailion reached for something in the folds of his robe. The Seraphim tensed, but relaxed when he produced a simple spherical Jewel.

"Here," he said, placing it in Alecto's hand.

"A bribe?"

Gailion looked at her. "The truth. I kept it hidden, and now when I see what it has become, that truth, I don't want it anymore."

"Make some sense, old man," Alecto called to his back.

"How can I?" Gailion said. He offered his hands to the Seraphim and heavy iron manacles closed about his forearms. He looked down, or at the ceiling, but never at Alecto as they herded them toward the lander.

Vertigo sat alone in her cabin. She had been quiet ever since she had been with Darken. She was a little scared that he had been able to see the shape of what she wanted to do.

But he wasn't here now, was he? Vertigo thought, undoing the breastplate of her armor. Soon she had shed all but the silk undershirt she wore. She got on her knees in the darkness and reached for her sword.

I told you, the sword said, in her mind. He does not understand you. He doesn't love you, like I do.

You don't love me, Vertigo said, drawing the blade. You've used me. Ever since I was a child. You made me a slave to your power, and taken away my last little chances for a normal life.

You were not born for it, the sword said.

I wanted it, Vertigo said, raising the sword to her eye level. You took it from me. Maybe I took it from myself. She took a deep breath and turned the sword point side down. She took one last look out of the window. The moon was out, and there was a flock of--what had Sachiel called them? Nightbirds.

They're beautiful, she thought.

Her muscles tensed, her brow furrowed. She took a deep breath, focusing on the sword; bracing for the pain she knew would rip through her as she rammed the sword through her chest.

You cannot!

Yes, I can, Vertigo said. What's left? My life has been chaotic ruin. Perhaps my death will find me peace at last.

NO!

"Yes," Vertigo said. Her hands began to shake. One last time she thought of everyone who had been close to her. Papa, Mama, Adamov, Darken . . .

She dropped the sword. She rested her hands on her knees and looked up at the ceiling. Her eyes were flowing with tears; she was gasping for air.

Someone was knocking on her door.

"A minute," she said, rising from her spot on the floor. She kicked the sword aside. She hastily buckled her armor back over her chest, and answered the door.

It was Sachiel, clad in the Yrouel suit, without the mask. The smooth innocent face was incongruous with the harsh colors of the uniform.

"I'm sorry," he said. "Did I interrupt something?"

Vertigo looked at the sword, lying in the corner of the room. She shook her head.

"Er," Sachiel said, not knowing what to make of it. "We need everyone on the bridge at once. We've found out something."

Vertigo looked at her sword, thought about taking it, tried to leave, but decided to buckle on the sword all the same. She followed him out and they headed to the bridge.

Kirone sat in her office on the Morgana. The Seketha by her side was her mouthpiece for the rest of the bridge, who could not talk.

"Is Israfel ready?" Kirone asked it.

"Yes," the Seketha replied. "She has been kept in the hold, with machines to dampen her fire. But we are . . .concerned."

"About what?"

"Your plan for the Machine Sphere," the Seketha said.

"Hmm," Kirone said. "It's simple strategy. If we control the transport between Spheres, we control the Spheres. We can cut off any retaliation that might come from the other races when we make our move."

"How will you do this?"

"An army would be too obvious," Kirone said. "No, with Adamov and Israfel, I'm certain we can get the job done much more cleanly, and our hands are clean."

"Not with Sandalphon having taken your army."

"I'll deal with Sandalphon," Kirone said. "It's a little too late for his conscience to bother him, isn't it?"

"My lady," the Seketha asked. "A favor."

Kirone looked surprised. "What favor?"

"We want Sandalphon for ourselves," the insectile beast said flatly.

"You've got him," Kirone said. "Just please, for me, make his death a particularly painful one."

"Death is only the beginning, my lady."

"We just picked this up on the crystal we stole from one of their ships," Sachiel said grimly. They all gathered around the glowing crystal, watching intently. "Apparently, Sandalphon has launched an assault on the Machine Sphere. And somehow, part of his plan involved kidnapping Liandra and a few others from your Temple. Now I'm not sure why . . ."

"I am," Darken said. He was close to Phoenix, holding her close. He was shaking. "They wanted something of Kael's . . .it's a control key to the whole Sphere. With it, he'd have full control of the Machine Sphere."

"Why would he want it?" Leiliel asked. "I thought he wanted the throne."

"Well, that's what we thought," Sachiel said. "But from what our friends on the Magus have said, there's more to this than just a power struggle. We just haven't been able to see the whole shape of it."

"No," Darken said. "But we've got to go there."

"Into a warzone?" Lion said. "You expect me to risk my ship going back there?"

"I won't let Liandra die there," Darken said. "I watched Maryna die there. I held her, her blood spilled on my hands as she choked out her last breath. I won't let another person I love die like that. I'll go alone, if I have to."

"Darken," Sachiel said. "We all love Liandra, but you're talking about going up against a whole squadron of Skyships with only two ships."

"Two ships, a goddess, Vertigo, you, and a clan of techno-pirates," Darken said. "Sachiel, I'm glad you're alive. I came a long way to find out for certain, and I'm glad you weren't. But I won't lose another person I love. Not today, not tomorrow, not ever."

Sachiel looked at him. He nodded, feeling embarrassed. Darken hadn't meant to shame him into helping him, but he could feel the truth in his words. After all, he thought. Hadn't I refused to sacrifice the woman I love for the sake of my crusade?

"It's suicide," Lion said.

"I'd rather die for the right reasons, than live for the wrong ones."

Everyone looked at Vertigo. Vertigo looked at them. Something passed between them to her. Vertigo looked away after a time; almost sorry she had said anything.

"That's three then," Sachiel said.

"Four," Phoenix said.

"I'm not letting you go alone, Sachiel," Leiliel said. "If we have to go into the fire, then we'll all go. Together."

"Lion?" Darken asked.

Lion looked over his ship and crew. "I've seen the humans grow up to become members of this crew," he said. "I've seen their children be born, and tried to make a home for them in the Skycity."

"Then maybe it's time you made a home for them in all the Spheres," Sachiel said. "Stand with us, Lion."

"I've heard people talk about making a new world for all before," Lion said, a deep current of sadness in his cold mechanical voice. "It never came, and one day I stopped listening to the promises. The best were killed for trying to build it. The worst made it another lattice in their web of lies. I am . . .not so easily trusting anymore."

"Then trust me," Darken said. "When have I ever lied to you?"

Lion looked at him. "That was a long time ago."

"Truth is never bound by time. Right is never about timing."

Lion sighed. It was strange thing to do for a machine, but it wasn't the only human affectation he had done. "I will help you," he said simply.

Lion turned to his crew. Chasla, smiled at him, nodded. Lion would have smiled too, were he able.

"Signal the Magus," he said. "Tell them to jump to Achromurcra. We're going to join the battle."

Sandalphon looked at the prisoners before him, manacled, looking defiant, despite the obvious abuse they had suffered.

"Why did you bring them here, Alecto?" Sandalphon asked. "Don’t we have enough problems here?"

"They would have been a security risk on the Enchantress," Alecto said. "We were about to leave when we caught them trying to escape."

"We would have ended up here all the same," Gailion said, looking straight at Sandalphon.

"Gailion," he said. "I thought you were dead."

"I thought the same of you, Sandalphon," Gailion replied coldly.

"You were right, after a fashion," Sandalphon said.

"Is this how you repay my promise?" Gailion asked, angrily. "Is this how you take care of my daughter?"

"It was not me."

"Then who was it?" Gailion demanded.

"I don't know," Sandalphon said. He looked unsteady.

"Father," Alecto asked, her hands beginning to shake. "What is he saying?"

He looked at Alecto, then at Gailion. "You told her?"

"For all the good it did," Gailion said.

"Is what he says true?" Alecto asked.

Sandalphon breathed. Part of him--the part he knew was not him--wanted to keep the lie going. Alecto was useful, loyalty to a fault always was. But, as he took a deep breath, he knew what he had to do.

"He is your father," Sandalphon said. The weight of the admission was like moving a large stone from his chest.

Alecto's mouth opened. She wanted to deny it, curse them both, bust she couldn't. The words weren't there. She felt herself sinking to her knees, her hair falling in her face.

"You never told her," Gailion said. "It all pointed this way--I knew when I saw her for the first time. But I wouldn't believe it, because I felt you were a good man. You were my friend."

Sandalphon looked at him. The truth hit him square in the face, and he did not hide his shame.

"I was," he said. "Now, as you were thought dead, I am. I cannot recall my life from the hell I have made it into--unwillingly or not. But I am here to try to save the people I served from the same fate."

He looked at Gailion. "I don't deserve this," he said. "And my heart, if it still beats at all, will never forgive me for what I have done. But for our people, Gailion, please. Help me. One last time."

Gailion's anger dissipated from his face. For second, a flash of time, his old friend had appeared before him.

Gailion looked at Alecto, thought about what he had lost. He looked again, and thought of the possibilities for her, for reconciliation. For her, for the world she would inherit, he had to do something.

"I will help you," he said. "My friend."