But you should know, Imai continues, that as the kumicho, Heaven Tanaka is more of a monster than I could ever be. Do you know what she did to Japan, in the three years she was in power ?
You’re trying to manipulate me.
Fifty seconds.
She invented something called the Wyvern. Ask her what that is. Go ahead.
He’s still smiling.
Thirty seconds.
The Drakon. Isn’t that what he wanted me to hack ?
Drakon and Wyvern are both ancient types of dragon. Could it beis it possibleare they somehow related ?
Why did you run away, Veah ?
What kind of monster are you hiding from ?
But maybe I should be asking a different question. Maybe I should be asking myself, What kind of monster do you have to become to lead the Yakuza ?
How well do I really know the pretty girl I woke up handcuffed to ?
Go on, Imai encourages. Ask her. Ask her what Project Basilisk is, and see for your
I swearI swear I didn’t mean to.
The gun fires, and I surge backwards with the force of it.
I must have shot him, his chest pulses backand then an explosion rockets through the warehouse.
Holy shit.
The nitrocellulose must have been more potent than I expected. All it takes me is a quick map of calculations, and once I realize the roof is crumbling, I know I only have four minutes. At the most.
Imai is on one knee, a hand to his chest, and blood leaks between his fingers.
I throw my gun to the groundI won’t be needing it anymoreand I turn on my heel. Stumbling as fast as I possibly can, even as the world smudges into shades of dust and wood and blood. Blood ? My hands are pale and smeared in
I think I might be bleeding.
I think I might be dying.
Get over yourself, Kaya, I think. You’re not dying. All you need is some ice, and you’ll be fine.
How far have I made it ? I am gripping the edge of a doorframe, thinking of the moment two years ago when a policeman stopped me in the park.
Officer Wilhelm.
I don’t know why I think of that now. Maybe it’s because he was the first hope I had in a long time, that there were good people out there. That, despite everything people said about us, about cops, about men, we didn’t have to fall for it. We didn’t have to become the expectations people put on us. He was hope, and I needed it.
Maybe that’s why I think of him now.
I knew him only for a night, but the thought of it coaxes something to life in my chest : an ember. A spark. Hope.
I run. I run like hell.
Maybe I’m getting good at this thingrunning for my life.
But maybe the hope isn’t enough, because my head is spinning and my hands are still shaking and my stomach is clenching, I’m going to throw upI’m going to lose itI’m going to fall apart right here. Right now. And there will be no one to pick up the pieces.
Will it hurt ? I wonder.
Is dying painful ?
I really, really don’t want it to be painful. Is that cowardly ? Maybe it is. Maybe it’s silly of me to be scared of the agony that comes with an explosion.
It hits me, then, that I’m terrified of dying.
And why shouldn’t I be ? I’m nineteen. I’ve thought about it, in the way most people have. Heaven. Nirvana. Reincarnation. Nothingness. What’s waiting ? What’s out there ? But I haven’t thought about it. I haven’t thought about it, because I still have more time.
It’s okay. It’s okay, it’s okay, it’s okay, it’s
Cassie is safe. Isn’t that what matters ? Is it selfish that I wish I was safe, too ?
Dear God, I try. Dear God, I . . .
I’m scared.
I can barely think. I can barely put two words together.
Hey. Her voice startles me. Maybe I’m already dead. Hey, what are you doing ?
Gilded in sunlight, her dark hair silhouetted in pale sky, she seems more like a vision, a dream, than a person. She looks like an avenging angel above me, tall and powerful and ethereal. If I’m dead, maybe this isn’t so bad.
She kneels down on one leg, and she tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. The gesture is so intimate, so soft that I think, Sorry about doubting you, God.
Am I in Heaven ? I whisper.
Well, considering I’m Heaven, I’d say no. But if you want to be inside of me, that can definitely be arranged.
In this moment, there is no other word to describe her but hot.
Although, that might be the burning warehouse behind us.
(Well . . . okay, fine, who am I kidding ? She’s hot in both ways.)
Let me down, I protest weakly into Veah’s shoulder. I can walk.
Actually, I can barely even breathe.
And if I’m not mistaken . . . there is something alive on Veah’s face. Something in her eyes that reminds me of the fire behind us. There is an almost-grin on her mouth, and a kind of delirium in the shine of her gaze.
Crazy, I think. She is crazy.
Every time we’ve been in a life-threatening situationthat high-speed car chase, the airport, the truck drivershe has seemed . . . no, it’s not happy.
She thrives, I realize. She thrives in chaos.
What did it mean, when Imai mentioned Project Basilisk ? Why did he want me to hack the Wyvern ?