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your
parents?”
    “Parents?” He laughed but it was bitter and
sharp, and it was odd, coming from him. He did not look older than
twelve. “Your race killed them off. Prevention measures, they
called them. Murder, I say.”
    Shit . Hera’s head spun. Although she’d
grown up without her mother, she’d always been surrounded by her
teachers and trainers. She could not imagine growing up without
someone older to guide her, feed her, teach and prepare her for the
future.
    Sobek. If only that future did not frighten
me.
    Hera took a deep breath, knowing she did not
have much time before her escape was discovered. She needed to get
back fast, yet not before getting the intel she had come out for.
“Tell me this: is there a raid tonight? Can you take me there?”
    “You’re one of them, aren’t you?” He spat and
wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, scowling. “But you don’t
wear a visor and don’t have a shield. They left you behind, didn’t
they?”
    “You stupid...” She bit her tongue. The other
children’s faces twisted in grimaces of fear and anger. “No, they
did not leave me behind. I just need to know... the truth.”
    “The truth is that your bastard race’s
killing us,” he said, his dark eyes narrowed. “You’re killing us
every day, in every way. You took control of everything and left us
begging for scraps. You treat us like dogs, squish us like bugs.
You got everything. How come we got nothing, huh?”
    “You started the War.” Gods, her voice
trembled now and her gun shook just a little. She tightened her
grip on the handle. “You tortured us and killed us first.”
    “So this is your revenge? For something
nobody remembers?”
    “We remember. It happened five hundred and
seventy years ago,” Hera quoted, her voice like stone but starting
to crack. “It is written. You started—”
    “Buzzardshit.” The boy took a shuffling step
toward her, his hands fisted at his sides, his cheeks flushed.
“Says who? You. Besides, who cares who started what five hundred
years ago? It wasn’t my parents and it wasn’t me, was it?”
    Hera couldn’t breathe. Every day, together
with the other Gultur of her quarter, she’d prayed to the Gods to
save her from the mortals who wanted her death, who wanted her
destruction, and to give her strength to smite them. She’d asked
Regina to lend her strength to do what she must.
    Today everything she’d always known seemed
wrong and stupid.
    The boy glared. He’d taken another step
closer. His eyes glittered, and his hair, sandy like Sacmis’s, hung
in greasy strands around his thin face. He reeked of sweat and shit
and truth.
    Hera took a deep breath and savored it. “Just
take me to the raid,” she whispered, lowering her gun so it didn’t
point at his head anymore. “I need to see.”
    “See to believe, huh?”
    “Something like that.”
    “If I take you, you give me your gun?”
    “Nobody takes my gun.” She scowled.
    The boy suddenly grinned. “And if I have my
gang take it from you?”
    “Your memory is too short, boy.” She sneered.
“If you do not do as I say, I’ll shoot, and they’ll die. Do you
really want that?”
    He squinted at her. “Do you ?”
    Dammit. Silence filled her mouth and
killed the words. Do I? She sighed and lifted her gun again,
aiming at his head. “I said, take me.”
    A smaller boy tugged at the leader from
behind. “Mantis, take her there. Do it, come on, man. She’ll kill
you if you don’t.”
    The leader – Mantis – nodded. “You’re right,
Kem.”
    She wanted to laugh, though her stomach was
in knots. “What, you do as a little one says?”
    He cocked his head to the side, observing
her, barely blinking. “It’s not always the strongest who knows
best, I’ll have you know.”
    Hera winced. “And you have said enough. Take
me.”
    Mantis shrugged. Turning on his heel, he
started off down an alley. “Come if you like, fe. Your kind gets
off on blood and death, huh?”
    “That is