to Talon, where she belonged.
“Excellent, Mr. Hill.” Mr. Roth nodded, the cold smile never fading. “Exactly what we need to hear. Put your sister from your mind—her fate is in good hands, I assure you.” He raised a hand to the door. “Shall we go, then? The car is waiting, and I am sure you are eager to see what we have planned.”
I nodded. I was moving up in the organization, as I’d intended. Designs were falling into place, and I couldn’t dwell on the past, even if it meant letting Ember go for now. Without a backward glance, I joined Mr. Roth in the hall, shutting the door to the office, and that part of my life, behind me.
Tourist attractions always made me jumpy.
I didn’t like crowds. It was the soldier in me, obviously, responding to potential threats, to having too many people in my personal space. Crowds were a good place to hide, but that meant the enemy could do the same—melt into the throng and remain unseen until it was too late. I didn’t like being surrounded, and I really didn’t like strangers touching me, something that happened often in these places, as tourists seemed to share a general obliviousness to their surroundings and bumped into each other a lot.
I wove through the crowds along the river Thames, keeping my head down and my cap pulled low. It was a bright fall afternoon, and the river walk teemed with people milling down the sidewalk with no sense of urgency. But I could easily see my destination over the tops of their heads; it soared four hundred feet into the air, the massive white Ferris wheel known as the London Eye, silhouetted against the blue. An even larger crowd had massed at the base of the huge wheel, and an impressive line led up the steps to the clear plastic pods at the bottom. I set my jaw and marched resolutely forward.
“Sebastian.”
A man rose from a bench and came toward me, hand outstretched. He wore plain civilian clothes like me, but I could see the soldier in him, the way his dark eyes scanned the crowds, never still. He walked with a faint limp, favoring his right knee, a memento from a raid that went south and nearly killed us all. I shook his hand, and he jerked his head toward the end of the line waiting to get onto the Ferris wheel.
“I paid off the attendants,” he said in a low voice as we started toward the Eye. “We have a capsule all to ourselves for the entire thirty-minute ride. If you can stand me for that long, anyway.” He grinned wolfishly, showing a set of crooked white teeth.
“Why here?” I asked. “Seems exposed.”
He chuckled. “Think about it, Sebastian. The Order hates crowds and frivolity and...well, fun, and they avoid the touristy parts of town like the plague. They wouldn’t be caught dead here.” He waved a hand at the massive wheel. “Plus, we’ll have an enclosed glass room all to ourselves, with absolutely no chance of anyone eavesdropping on the conversation. Unless someone snipes us out, there’s no way to get to us.”
It was vastly improbable, but I scanned the area for snipers, anyway, especially the many buildings across the river. My skin prickled. So many dark windows and ledges and perches. If Tristan was here, that’s where he would be now, patient and motionless behind the barrel of his rifle.
“So how did that partner of yours take it, anyway?” Andrew asked, seeming to read my mind. “Have you talked to him since the...um...”
“No,” I said softly. “I haven’t seen him since my trial.” I hoped I would never see my ex-partner again, because if I did, he’d probably be trying to kill me. And truthfully, if Tristan St. Anthony was given that order, I’d be dead before I knew he was within a thousand meters. Ironic, if I was shot down by the person I once considered my brother in everything but blood.
Suddenly wary, I glanced at Andrew, wondering how much he really knew. Had the Order shared the details with other chapters? I knew my name was out there: a rogue soldier who’d gone over to the enemy. As far as St. George was concerned, I was to be shot on sight, no questions asked. The Perfect Soldier, now Order Enemy Number One.
If Andrew’s plan was to kill me, I couldn’t do anything about it now, unless I wanted to take off or overpower him on a crowded riverfront. Since neither choice would help me get what I came for, I waited quietly in line until we reached the front, where the ride attendant nodded to Andrew and pulled open the door to the glass pod, then motioned us both inside. The door shut, and the capsule began to move.
Stepping farther into the pod, I gazed around warily. The oval room was quite spacious, clearly meant for large groups. You could fit a full-size car in the middle and still have room to walk around it. A wooden bench sat in the center, and the walls were clear, showing all of London far below.
Andrew stalked to one side of the room, turned and leaned against a wall, fixing me with a solemn glare. “Relax, Sebastian,” he said. “I told you before. I heard what happened back in the States, most of it, anyway. I know what you’re accused of. Bullshit or not, you saved my life once. That’s something you don’t forget. And I don’t care what the Order says—anyone who has ever fought with you would know that you wouldn’t just betray your brothers like that. Not without reason.”
He looked away as the pod climbed slowly higher, sunlight streaming through the glass. I gazed down at Big Ben on the other side of the river, its giant face announcing that it was almost noon.
“Thanks,” I said. “I wouldn’t blame you for turning me in, Andrew. I’m just glad you’re willing to give me the benefit of the doubt.”
“I’m not the only one,” Andrew replied. “A lot of us weren’t happy with the way your trial was handled.” He lowered his voice, as if there could be people eavesdropping, even here. “When you ‘escaped,’ we knew there had to be more to the story than what the Order was telling us. And I suspected I might see you again, sooner or later—I did say you could call on me for anything.” He gave a wry grin. “So if you need a favor, Sebastian, as long as it doesn’t involve going directly against St. George, you just have to ask. I’m guessing that’s why you’re here.”
I nodded, smiling faintly in return. “There is something I wanted to ask you,” I said. “You’re a scout now, right?”
His brow furrowed, as if that fact was painful. “Yeah,” he answered shortly. “After that close encounter with a bullet, I couldn’t go on any more raids. They stuck me with intel gathering, rooting out Talon activity in assigned areas.”
“And the number of strikes has increased recently, correct?”
Again, he nodded, though there was a wariness to him now, as if he knew where I was going with this.
“How are you getting the information?” I asked.
“Good question. Wish I could answer it.” His brow furrowed as he gazed back down at the city. “The Order hasn’t contacted me in several months,” he admitted. “I haven’t found or given them any information, and I know several others in the same boat as me. St. George isn’t using its scouts to find the nests. And yet...the number of strikes is at an all-time high.” He made a vague gesture with his hand. “How are they finding these dragons? They’re certainly not coming to us.”
I frowned. That wasn’t what I was expecting. I’d contacted Andrew because I had hoped to learn why Order attacks on dragons had taken such a jump. But if St. George wasn’t using its scouts at all...
“That is strange,” I muttered.
“I think so, too,” Andrew agreed. “And it gets even stranger. I asked around, trying to find where the Order has been getting their information, and you know what I heard?” A dubious look crossed his face. “Rumors are that the Patriarch himself is receiving visions from God, telling him where to find the devils.”
My brows rose. The Patriarch was more than the leader of St. George; he was almost a holy figure in the eyes of the Order. Only the most revered, staunchest devotee of St. George could become Patriarch, and once the position was