Some volunteer guards stopped us on Palmas’s entrance. Already indoctrinated with National Association of Bridgers’ words against me, though fear still spiked their faces. That they’d say the wrong thing, and Delilah would listen. She’d even track the location of her district’s citizens. She and most other bridgers. I guessed they were forgetting about God.

“So Cael Cavanaugh and Almyra Bernhart,” one of the volunteers said. He glared at us. His hand on his gun holster. I flexed my knees and clenched my fists. Almyra slid her hand into her dress pocket, to get my pocketknife. “The bosslady says you can pass. But first she wants a wire transfer to her account.” He glared at Almyra. “A billion, Miss.”

Money trumped principle, I guessed. For better or for worse. Almyra made the transfer from her account, as if she was handing someone a dollar, and said nothing. Her face, expressionless. I guessed no price was too high to find out the truth about Mildred. I guessed Almyra didn’t want the volunteers or Delilah to think she was weak. Something I could understand. Though I knew I couldn’t control my emotions as well as her.

“Samuel was last seen in the building over there. But we’ve surrounded it, so he ain’t got a chance.”

“Was Mildred with him?” Almyra asked.

His silence answered better than words. “Thanks anyway, man.”

We darted our way through the empty streets, hoping, that Samuel and Mildred were there. I did not think of the Harmonists. Or why Samuel was talking to them? Or anything. All my focus rested on finding them. We arrived at the building where Mildred’s texts were coming from. Tim’s device said so. I hoped it was working properly.

We set foot on the building and the guards let us pass. And then we heard wails and cries. And yelling. Coming from an apartment in one of the upper floors. We raced ahead but I missed a step and plummeted. Twisted my ankle. But Almyra passed her healer. And it helped. Somewhat. I would endure the pain.

It was an old building, stench of mold deluged us. But I smiled. Not because I liked the fetidness, but because it probably hadn’t been retrofitted yet. And it still carried regular locks. Thank God. Almyra handed me my pocketknife and I cleared the lock to the top apartment, where Tim’s device said Mildred’s texts came from. I handed my pocketknife back to Almyra in case she needed it. And stepped inside. And saw Samuel. And a Harmonist.

And Mildred’s corpse.

I had found Samuel, but Mildred had died. Flames, sleet, gravels, all combined and blasted my soul with the strength of a gravity pulse. To the point I felt I would lose it. I glanced at Almyra. Her eyes, not just teary, but doused by wind flames. Her tears marred her face. They clattered on the floor. Echoed in my ears. I guessed Mildred had been like a mom to her, a real one, not like the average Achroite.

And then I turned my attention back to the scene. A Harmonist lay on the floor, his blood splattered all over, as a repugnant painting. Samuel glanced at me. His eyes, watery justice flames. His fists, shrouded by a lighter hue of blood. An Impure. I had always thought the Harmonists deserved any beating they got, but seeing it firsthand, and that Samuel had done it. It just clouted my chest. And I could not justify him, no matter how much I wanted to.

And before Samuel continued with the beating, I hollered, “Enough! Amicus.”

Almyra winced at Samuel’s disfigured face. Like he had caught smallpox. Sometimes the pustules even oozed. He was one of the guinea pigs for Eugenex’s first prototype. It did not end well.

“They killed Mildred,” Samuel bawled. “They killed my wife.”

An ice blade sleeted my nerves. And I did not know what to say. To me, this had all been because of the wails in my mind. But to him, this had been about the wife he lost. Ashley was my girlfriend, but Mildred was his wife. Wife. Had I been in his position, would I have also let vengeance char me?

“The bloody bastard said she had injected herself with a virus to infect Zielkkenhom at the Ceremony. And kill him.” Samuel said.

And indeed, she was going to receive an award, the award I had gotten.

Samuel stepped toward me. Glared. “Earlier today, when you saved that wretched Fengel,” he said. “Did you claw into a firewall? And released light particles?”

I remained silent.

“Answer me, amicus!”

“I did.”

I knew what was coming. He lunged at me and thrust me against the floor, his eyes, consumed by wrath.

“I plan on bloody killing you, bastard!” he declared.

And I did not even have time to blink, when he kicked my ribs, heard a cracking sound, and then booted my raw Eugenex wound, as if he wanted to destroy a building with his kick. I hollered, and not thinking, I kicked his shin and knocked him. And it was a good thing I did not think. Because if I had thought, I would not have kicked him. Because I felt guilty. Because I felt I had killed his wife. Because I felt I had killed Mildred. “You killing me won’t bring her back,” I said. “And you and I both know vengeance doesn’t lead to lasting peace, amicus. Don’t forget.”

“Those light particles weren’t light, you bastard,” he said. “They were virus particles. VirtuaNet’s firewalls had contained the virus, but you released it when you dredged into it with your bloody hands. And Mildred was …” Even his thunderous voice wavered when he said her name. “Mildred was heading into VirtuaNet at that moment.”

An ice blade sliced my veins. The light trace I saw was Mildred. And I killed her.

“She had shot herself with a concentration so that she’d be infectious but not symptomatic,” Samuel said. “And kill Zielkkenhom. Without a single bullet being fired, without a single Natural wasting his blood.

“But you set her body out of whack when your particles struck her. And killed her. When I woke up, she was dead. Right next to me, on our bed. Dead. Because of you. And now you’re infected. And everyone else you’ve come in contact with today. You messed everything up, bloody idiot.”

I had no words. No mind. Nothing. I could not even process what was happening. I had killed Mildred. I had released the virus. I had set off a pandemic. Probably infected the soldier whose blood pressure I thought had dropped. The quarantine would soon begin. Everything would … I could not stand. Not even reason.

“I set off the smoke bomb and the tear gas to chase after the Harmonist who had knocked me and snatched my wife’s corpse, they set up the actual blast,” Samuel said. “I even recovered her body during the chaos but he snatched her back. He even tried to stop us with the bomb at St. Cruithnechán and the text messages—he even usurped her smartwatch number—but I caught him. And gave him what he deserved.”

I was going to ask Samuel if he had killed him, but the Harmonist was moving. Thank God. Never thought I’d have said that about a Harmonist. At least he’d have a shot at repentance. The one Samuel needed.

“I know nothing I say will bring Mildred back,” I said. “And I don’t ask you to forgive me, because even though I did not intend it, my actions resulted in Mildred’s return to the Lord, but please let go of that vengeance. It won’t end well. It will only end up with you in the eternal scorching place. And Mildred would not have wanted that for you, despite your differences.”

He knelt by me, still in tears, and did not say a word. He just helped me stand up. And we hugged. Almyra even leaped forward, as if she wanted to help him. And had forgotten about his blisters. I just hoped it was all for the best, and not a trap. At least, he got my mind off my family. My probably infected family. My probably… dead family.

“So now you must replace her at the Ceremony, bridger,” the Harmonist muttered, still on the floor.

“So you want me to—”

“You don’t have a right to speak, you bloody bastard,” Samuel said. Who then elbowed the Harmonist’s thorax. But that did not stop him. He would die for his ideal. His sick, twisted ideal. “Everyone will be there,” the Harmonist said. “All branches of government, Fain, Zielkkenhom, the top generals, Bernhart, Vadnor, everyone. All you need to do is cough on your hand and then make sure to shake hands with everyone there. If it’s a woman, hug and kiss her cheek.”

“So you want me to be typhoid Cael?” I said. “To decimate who knows how many Achroites?”

“You’re a Christian,” he said. “Your God preaches mercy and forgiveness of sins. You can beg him forgiveness after you’re finished. And you’re of the Catholic variety, which is even better, because you can talk to a priest and be sure you’re forgiven.”

“Confession does not work that way.”

“Think about it, bridger,” he said. “You could provide freedom to the Naturals, the Impures, and bring down Zielkkenhom, the man who killed your girlfriend.”

“But you don’t want to get rid of Eugenex,” I said. “You just want to rule yourselves.”

“We want a fairer, more just world for the lesser peoples,” he said. “For those too weak to defend themselves.”

“Spare me your lies.”

“We want everyone to be an Achroite.”

“So you want everyone to lose their salvation?” I said. “Talk about an ideal.” I then glanced at Samuel. “Do you agree with them?”

He remained silent for five seconds, and then he muttered, “You don’t have a right to ask me that.”

“Don’t you want the Naturals to cheer for you again, bridger?” the Harmonist said. “You could stand before them, not as their traitor, but as their liberator. And not a single bullet would have been needed. Not a single Natural would have been forced to shed his blood in war, in revolution. And not a—”

“So you want me to stand in front of Christians,” I said. “And tell them that I slaughtered hundreds? That I deliberately infected hundreds, if not more? To stand in front of God, and tell Him I killed hundreds in cold blood?”

“Freed them. We will make a better world for everyone,” he said, as if he actually believed his lies, his eyes as glinting flames. “And if you don’t want to help us—”

“You’ll kill me?” I stepped right in front of him. “I do not work with terrorists. Especially with those who are just like the government they so despise.” I turned to Samuel. “Choose the right side, amicus,” I said. “Before it is too late.”

“And what side is that supposed to be? Yours?” he said. “Because both of you killed Mildred.”

“God’s,” I said. “The stream of mercy and the rapids of truth. Not vengeance and twisted words to suit an agenda.” I stared at him, as if I wanted to talk to his soul, so he’d listen. “Don’t let these bastards fool you, because they’re just like Zielkkenhom, only worse, because at least Zielkkenhom doesn’t pretend to care about the Naturals.”

I said that, but I did not believe it. At least not wholeheartedly. But then my family zapped my mind. And I sent Tim a text.

Gcathaem Éade. Anoem. (Get out of the city. Now. In a mix of Irish and Latin that no smartwatch would be able to translate.)

I regretted the text the second I sent it. Had I been selfish? But before the gravels could even barrel at me, Julius and his goons barged in. Must have tracked Almyra’s new smartwatch, those Bernhart’s representative had given us. Bastards. But I should have known better.

“You are all under arrest,” Julius declared. He punched the air, and with the telekinesis Eugenex granted, solidified the air particles in front of him and burst the bleeding Harmonist’s head with a wind blast that could even surpass a bullet. “As for the rest of you, fight and we execute you right here. Except you, Almie. You—”

“Screw you, Hæft.”

Should I tell Julius the truth? About the virus? Or should I infect him and go along with Mildred’s plan? Should I become a Harmonist? For freedom?

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