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suddenly crashed into the silent woods. Chief and the premier, after sharing a long, silent look, swiveled their heads to look at him. He noticed, with discomfort, that Aya’s eerily cool green eyes had been watching him the whole time.
    “A Primary professor in Seattle,” the premier finally told Griffin, “seems to have gotten photographic proof of one my own.”
    So that’s what that sick feeling was: familiarity.
    “She’s been sitting on it for a while, gathering more information, writing a paper. But now she’s preparing to go wide. My people found it when she posted it online in draft form.”
    “Stop her,” Chief growled.
    The premier raised a stiff hand. “We will.”
    All of the heat Keko had given Griffin fled in an icy gust. “ How will you?”
    The premier stood as tall as his slight stature would allow, the brim of his cowboy hat tilting back. “She’s respected in her field now,” he replied. “She won’t be tomorrow.”
    Griffin’s tone took a dive into distaste and frustration. “ How ?”
    Another wordless look between the chief and the premier.
    “Tell him.” Aya’s voice was small and light, fitting to her appearance. But it carried a clear command, one that the other two elemental men heeded. Her white hair seemed to move without wind. She had yet to blink, that green stare shaking and unsettling Griffin even more.
    With a sigh, the premier said, “The professor’s evidence will be destroyed. She will be discredited based on her current mental state.” He crossed his denim-and-flannel-clad arms. “My people have the power of . . . persuasion.”
    Griffin wished for something to grab on to, but remained erect under sheer force of will. “Explain.”
    “Go on.” Though Aya’s voice tinkled like bells on summer wind, there was a distinct melancholy to it. “Tell him.”
    The premier ambled toward Griffin, the heels of his cowboy boots crunching on pebbles and snow. “If I’d wanted to,” he told Griffin, “the second you found my compound last year, I could’ve sent a sliver of air into your ear. Into your brain. I could’ve woven suggestion and thought into that air. I could’ve convinced you of anything I wanted. Made you forget what you saw or knew. Created something that wasn’t there. You get the idea. And when I pulled the air out, you never would’ve been the same.”
    Griffin’s hands made cold fists against his thighs. “You fuck with Primary minds.”
    “We preserve our existence.” Every one of the premier’s words sounded dragged through cold mud.
    Great stars. Griffin reeled. “Is it permanent?”
    Chief answered with a mighty rumble. “Permanent for them. Perfect for us.”
    The statement was a bullet, tearing through flesh and bone, shredding Griffin’s heart. “How many?” Then, when no one answered, he shouted, “ How many ?”
    The number twelve flashed quick and terrible through his own mind. Twelve deaths. Twelve sets of shackles clamping him to a former life.
    “Since the Senatus began? Over the centuries?” The premier had the audacity to sound bored, and Griffin couldn’t help but be reminded of the former Ofarian Chairman—the one who used to give Griffin his orders. “Impossible to say. Hundreds, maybe? The dawn of technology changed everything. Made us work overtime.”
    “ No .” Griffin lunged forward.
    The sudden movement sent the Chimerans into motion. Chief fell back against a wall of his warriors, Makaha on one side, a trickle of black smoke curling up from his lips, and Bane looming large on the other.
    Keko, to Griffin’s dismay, fell in beside her brother. Her face was unreadable, but her stance was unmistakable. Defensive. Ready to attack. Standing with her people.
    “No!” Griffin shouted again, the taint of old death making his muscles tight and his heart twist. “I oppose this.”
    The premier scoffed. “You have no right to oppose anything. You have no voice here.”
    Griffin flinched. Aaron pressed in