There are only two ways to live each life. One is as though nothing is a miracle. The other is as though everything is a miracle.

  ~Albert Einstein

  As booted feet clomped against Italian tile in the kitchen, Sarah reluctantly released Tomas so he could face the new threat. She wanted to scream at them all to just find a way to run. They had said they expected to face resistance, but this was insane.

  “Flash-bangs,” Gregorios said as he and Tomas stepped forward beside a long couch in the center of the room.

  The two men pulled grenades out of their pockets and Tomas glanced back at Sarah. “Best to close your eyes but keep your mouth open a little.”

  They threw the grenades as Sarah scurried to join them, then dropped to one knee behind the couch and followed Tomas’s directions.

  Just as harsh voices began shouting in the doorway, several powerful concussions thundered through the room with enough force to shatter windows. She couldn’t help but flail around for Tomas. All she felt was dust and empty carpet.

  When she opened her eyes, she could barely see across the room to where heavy smoke billowed around a bunch of shadowy forms. Those forms stumbled into the room, sharpening into dark-clothed men in tactical vests, carrying shotguns.

  Tomas was waiting for them.

  He had already crossed the room and stood pressed to the wall on the right side of the entrance. He exploded into their midst, dropping one man with a well-placed kick and snatching the man’s shotgun out of his hands.

  He clobbered the second black-clad commando with the butt of the weapon and dropped to the ground under the barrels of two of the other men as they fired. The shots shredded furniture, knocked holes in the opposite wall, and caught one of their companions in the shoulder, spinning him off his feet.

  Gregorios grabbed Sarah’s arm and pulled her to one side to the cover of one of the couches. As they moved, he fired his H&K pistol into the dark shapes in the doorway. The booming concussions sounded distant, but still filled her with terror.

  Tomas pumped round after round into the men clustered around him. Despite their flak vests, at that close range, shots knocked them off their feet and into their comrades. Under the concentrated barrage, all seven attackers fell in seconds.

  Sarah watched in a mixture of horror and amazement, hands pressed over her ears, and eyes watering from the smoke. She didn’t want to see anyone hurt, but what else could they do? She didn’t like admitting that part of her yearned to rush to Tomas’s side and snatch up another gun.

  Who filled penthouse suites with squads of armed men? Who was Tomas? He looked like a rather plain man, but he fought like a special-forces commando.

  Before the echoes of the gunfire faded, Gregorios propelled Sarah toward the door. “Go!”

  “What about Tereza?” Sarah asked as he pushed her along.

  She caught a glimpse of the unconscious woman lying near the shattered piano. An overstuffed chair, with the stuffing blasted out from a stray shotgun round, lay across her torso.

  “She’s not the one responsible for all this,” Gregorios said.

  “We need to go,” Tomas shouted from the doorway.

  Sarah rushed over and wrapped her arms around him, hardly believing he had survived that insane fight. His eyes blazed from his grime-covered face, and he grinned at her.

  “Amateurs.” He spoke the word with a distinct British accent.

  “Go,” Gregorios repeated as he slapped a fresh magazine into his Final Transfer pistol and checked his forty-five.

  They ran from the shattered suite to the elevator and Tomas said, “I’m glad that second group wasn’t enhanced.”

  “That would’ve been more surprising than finding a council-sanctioned facetaker running a hekha cell,” Gregorios said as he pulled a long roll of bandage out of a jacket pocket.

  The elevator door opened, revealing an empty car. Tomas left Sarah to help Gregorios tie the bandage in place on his bloody, broken arm while he stepped inside, pushed a button, then returned to the hallway.

  As the elevator closed and began its descent, the three of them took the stairs down three flights. They then took a different elevator down to the ninth floor where they collected their roller bags and found another empty suite. They changed out of their battle gear and washed off the worst of the smoke and grime. Ten minutes later, they were back in the elevator, looking more or less presentable.

  Sarah realized something. “Why aren’t the alarms going off?”

  “The penthouse is pretty isolated.”

  “But the smoke?”

  “They would’ve disabled the detectors before we arrived.”

  “Someone would’ve noticed windows exploding.”

  “Undoubtedly,” Gregorios agreed. “All the more reason to leave immediately.”

  “But who were those guys?”

  This was real life, not the set of a huge-budget action movie, or even the dreamscape tutorial. People didn’t hold pitched battles in expensive hotels, and no one got back up after getting beaten hard enough to put normal people in the hospital for weeks.

  “The identities of those men don’t matter,” Gregorios said. “Only their handler is important, and anyone who can field a team like that deserves to be approached with caution.”

  They arrived at the third floor and skirted a wedding reception party. They left the hotel via a side stairway that led out a back door.

  “That doesn’t tell me anything,” Sarah said.

  “Right now we have to focus on getting out of here.”

  “You want me to drive Eirene’s car?” Tomas asked.

  “No. Skip the garage. You know better than to leave the same way you arrived.”

  “What then?”

  Gregorios led the way across the street and into Harrah’s Casino. The busy casino consumed the enormous main level, but they wove through the crowd without slowing.

  The smoky haze that filled the gambling hall reminded Sarah of the smoke-filled suite, triggering a shudder from the memory of the recent fight. She suppressed it as they exited the building on the far side. Traffic was heavy, with street cars and vehicles packing the area and the sidewalks crowded with people.

  "What's the occasion?" Sarah asked as she followed Tomas through the crowds.

  "It's always crazy down here near the river."

  Across another busy street, they faced the abandoned New Orleans World Trade Center. It looked like it used to be quite a place, but Tomas explained that it hadn't been reopened since Katrina. They passed near it, entered the Riverwalk, and crossed Spanish Plaza.

  Tomas pointed out the huge fountain, surrounded by benches, outdoor seating, mosaics, and information about the Spanish occupation of New Orleans. The crowds were heavy and a band was just finishing a catchy tune.

  Everywhere Sarah looked, people were enjoying themselves, oblivious to the dangers passing through their midst. Plunging into the energized area so recently after the deadly fight in the hotel left Sarah feeling strange, as if she were in some kind of surreal nightmare.

  “Wish we had more time," Tomas said, looking calm, a little smile on his face as he studied the area. "This is a nice place to visit.”

  “Next time.” Sarah just wanted to find a quiet place to regain her composure.

  They slipped onto a ferry at the riverbank just as it prepared to depart.

  “That was good timing," Sarah said.

  “Why do you think we made Tereza wait so long?”

  “You planned to use the ferry?”

  Gregorios shrugged. “Always have a back-up plan or three if you want this life to last a while longer.”

  They moved to the wide windows of the main deck. With the crowds packed around the ferry, Sarah had expected it to be full, but it was half empty. They had plenty of room to find a quiet, open space.

  Tomas nodded out the window. “They recovered quickly.”

  He pointed out two men from the penthouse running across the square toward the ferry. They missed it by half a minute.

  Sarah sagged against him and let tension ease from her muscles. She gave him a weak smile. “We got away.”

  Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit.

  “They’ll try to cut us off on the other side.”

  “Don’t worry about it,” Gregorios said. “I’ve timed it to Algiers Point. We’ll disembark at least sixty seconds before they can reach the terminal at best speed.”

  The Mississippi was wide and seemed to be running fast. During the short ferry ride, Sarah worked to calm her racing heart. After washing again in one of the bathrooms, she sank into a soft seat and leaned back, just breathing.

  The brutality of the fight still shook her. She could scarce believe they had survived. At the same time, she couldn’t deny the fact that she’d wanted to rush in, snatch up a gun, and help Tomas shoot those gunmen. What did that mean? She was changing, and her new strength boosted her confidence, but she didn’t want to turn into some kind of insane berserker.

  As the ferry reached the center of the river, the current vibrated against the hull hard enough to shake the ferry. It really was moving fast.

  After another moment to settle her thoughts, she joined Tomas near a window where he scanned the river. “How did you learn to fight like that?”

  “Lots of training.”

  The problem was, he didn’t look like a trained warrior. Maybe a trained accountant, but not a fighter.

  “Well, you’re going to have to teach me some.”

  “That’s a very good idea.”

  He slipped an arm around her waist and pointed out the window. “I’ve always loved New Orleans from the river.”

  “It’s a fabulous view.” She leaned against him, happy that he seemed more comfortable sharing a little more intimacy. Did beating down a bunch of armed men make him feel romantic?

  “And magic doesn’t work over open water very well.”

  “What do you mean magic?”

  “Why do you think Tereza picked this city to host that transfer? New Orleans has long been a stronghold of the hekha.”

  “You’re talking about those men. You called them enhanced. What are they?”

  “Dangerous. Around here they’re part of the broader voodoo culture.”

  “Really?” First gunmen trying to kill them on the highway, then the gun battle in the penthouse, and now voodoo? Sarah wanted to crawl into a dark hole and hide. "Is that why the city feels so strange?"

  "It's part of it. Most voodoo’s a bunch of fake tourist-trap nonsense, but there are a few with real powers. Those, the ones with real rounon, are hekha, even if they don’t know it.”

  “Isn’t ronin what they call rogue samurai?”

  “Rounon, not ronin.” He exaggerated the pronunciation. “It’s an old word, Greek, referring to their Spirit rank and ability to use runes with their Talent.”

  Sarah barely suppressed a gasp, although she stiffened and pulled away so she could turn to face him. They were finally getting to the subjects she desperately needed answers to.

  “How could they not know they have special powers?”

  “The ones we fought today did, but not everyone discovers the truth.”

  “Is that why those men were so hard to knock down?”

  “It’s related, and related to those rune questions you were asking at the restaurant.”

  “I figured it must be.”

  He hesitated again, regarding her with a serious expression. “Sarah, I feel obligated to warn you again. You don’t know what you’re getting into. Once you learn these things, your world will never be the same.”

  “My world's already not the same. Without you and Eirene, I’d have been lost.”

  She thought back to the struggle to escape Alterego, with Mr. Fleischer maneuvering to force her to sell her body permanently. If Tomas hadn’t helped her escape and win herself back, she’d be . . . well, maybe nothing.

  “If you stay with me and learn the truth, you may never be found again.”

  Sarah drew him away from the window to some seats apart from other passengers. “Tomas, don’t play games with me. I want to help find Eirene, and I need to know who these people are trying to kill me. Talk.”

  Tomas smiled, taking her hands in his. “I’ve always loved your spirit, Sarah.”

  “Don’t get mushy,” she said to hide the little flip her heart made at his words. “Those men weren’t normal. Why not?”

  “Because they’re hekha.”

  “I still don’t know what that means. Are you saying they’re some kind of voodoo priests?”

  “No. Voodoo is a misnomer. Hekha is a blanket term we use for anyone with a rounon gift, or those who serve them.”

  “Explain rounon.”

  “You saw the man cutting into his leg?”

  Sarah nodded, hiding her growing excitement. She could taste the answers she’d been hunting for days. “Yes.”

  “He and the big guy had rounon gifts. That means they had D-grade Spirit ranks, at minimum.”

  “Spirit rank. Is that kind of like the Body rank you were telling me about at the restaurant?”

  “It’s related. Everyone has three rankings: Spirit, Talent, and Body. A person’s Body rank rates their physical capabilities. Most people have a Body rank somewhere in the F grade. F9 is usually considered the peak of normal human performance.”

  That was about what she’d figured. Her evolution to E0 stats had pushed her just beyond the upper tier of normal potential. That meant her E10 Agility really was superhuman.

  So cool.

  “So with those runes, they could push their Body rank above that F-9 mark and make themselves temporarily stronger and faster?”

  “Pretty much. You’re a quick study.”

  “Why did the one guy deflate at the end?” It had looked like someone had poked a hole in an inflatable toy.

  “I removed his soul pack.”

  “That fanny pack thing?"

  "Exactly. It contained a dispossessed soulmask.”

  “Why would they do that?” Tomas’s weird actions were making a little more sense.

  “That ties into the other ranks I mentioned. The Spirit rank is a measure of the innate power of a person’s soul. Most people have Spirit ranks between F1 and F3. You donors were generally around F5, or your souls would have lacked the strength to manage multiple transfers, even with the machine’s protections.”

  She nodded, thinking back to that earlier conversation. It made so much sense now.

  Tomas continued. “If someone has a Spirit rank above F-grade, then they have the power to fuel runes to unlock the kind of enhancements you saw.”

  “What other ranks are there?”

  “Above F is E, then D and so on until A.”

  “Is there anything above A?” she couldn’t help asking.

  “Nothing we need to worry about today.”

  Interesting. She frowned and asked, “So why carry dispossessed soulmasks in fanny packs if those guys has Spirit ranks high enough to fuel runes?”

  “Because the hekha use the power of their Spirit only to activate runes. They fuel those runes by draining the force from other people’s souls.”

  Sarah recoiled at the idea. She’d experienced hundreds of body transfers, although she'd only understood what was going on the last couple of times. The moment when her soulmask had been lifted free of her body was surreal and scary.

  The loss of most sensory input, the complete helplessness. It was horrific to think of someone kidnapping her at that moment, using her in some arcane ritual.

  “So they’re like cannibals?”

  Tomas nodded. “That’s a good way to look at it. In addition to their Spirit rank, a hekha needs to have a Talent rank above F-grade in order to even try creating runes. Otherwise, they can’t do anything, even if they have access to a dispossessed soul.”

  So that’s what Talent rank meant? Sarah tried not to reveal how thrilled she felt to finally start understanding her path.

  Tomas continued. “Most of the time, hekha can’t gain access to dispossessed souls and have to resort to draining strength from the fully-incorporated living. It’s harder to do, they can’t draw as much, and they need a much higher Talent rank to pull it off. That’s where a lot of magic rituals come from, attempts to hide the runes. But when they can get their hands on the dispossessed, that’s when they become most dangerous.”

  “Tereza gave them souls,” Sarah guessed.

  “Most likely. No facetaker in good standing would do that.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “The situation’s more complicated than we thought,” Tomas said. “We’ll discuss her involvement later. The important thing is that they had soulmasks. With dispossessed souls, hekha with a high enough Talent and Spirit ranks can apply and activate various runes to draw upon the force of those souls and enhance themselves.”

  “What happens when the soul runs out of power?” Sarah whispered.

  Tomas shrugged. “Depending on the magnitude of the hekha’s Talent rank and the Spirit rank of the victim, they might drain the soul entirely until it cracks and dies. Weaker Talent ranks can drain the dispossessed to the point they never recover, even if they were restored to a host. Those people linger with broken minds, lacking the spirit to live normal lives.”

  “That’s terrible.”

  “Agreed. The runes grant the hekha a lot of power though,” Tomas said. “But those two in the hotel were on the lowest end of Talent. They needed physical contact with the dispossessed soul to power the rune.”

  “That’s why the packs,” Sarah said, understanding.

  “Exactly. When I removed the packs, they lost connection and their runes fizzled. We call those hekha Occultists, or Occans. They would have had Spirit and Talent ranks somewhere in the D’s. That’s just strong enough to activate and power a single simple rune, or use a single rune to pull power from another soul.”

  That explained part of his cryptic statement in the hotel. “You also mentioned Charlies.”

  “Charlatans. The other fighters had been enhanced, but their Spirit and Talent would have been stuck in the E-ranks. Those runes you saw on their backs were marked and activated by the occans. Some time earlier today, they drew power from a dispossessed soul through those runes. It’s a way for E-grade people to fuel an enhancement for a short period.”

  “So they use other people like rechargeable batteries?” That was gross.

  “Something like that,” Tomas said. “The runes were only E-ranked runes, built on basic symbols increasing strength and providing rapid healing. That’s why they could absorb so much damage. The soul force they’d absorbed earlier was spent healing them.”

  “That’s why you kept shooting them,” Sarah said, feeling a little sick at the idea, but also thrilled to learn so much.

  Her tutorial had only covered the basic Body stat symbols, but had not mentioned anything about using runes for healing. It made sense, since that’s what the healing potion did. If only she’d gotten a chance to study those runes the occans had used.

  “Exactly. When temporary runes like those are first activated, they glow bright red. As the soul force is exhausted, the glow fades to black.”

  “So hekha are voodoo priests with Spirit and Talents in the E or D ranks,” Sarah repeated, trying to get it straight in her mind. “D-ranks are occultists, while E-ranks are charlatans.”

  “Not just voodoo,” Tomas said. “Hekha are part of every culture. Voodoo is just what they call it here. In other places they’re labeled devil worshipers, witches, wizards, shamans, or any number of names related to the occult arts. It’s all hekha, though.”

  “But you’d think people would notice dispossessed souls,” Sarah protested.

  Tomas shrugged. “They’re easy to conceal, and some hekha have stronger powers. Higher rankers can mark their runes on the souls they plan to drain, activate twin runes on themselves, and fuel them remotely.”

  “Like wireless power sources?”

  “Something like that. It’s a higher-level power, with pros and cons we can discuss more later. One has to have at minimum C-rank Spirit and Talent to gain those powers, and they are called Channelers.”

  “And we haven’t even gotten to the highest ranks?”

  “Higher ranks are far rarer. I think we’ve covered enough. It’s a lot to take in.”

  That was the understatement of her life. She had come to New Orleans hoping to enjoy some time with him, talk Eirene into helping her, and get some answers. She’d gotten a blast from a fire hose, but she needed more.

  “So, how are those ranks broken down?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Like, does the Body rank get split into sub-categories, like statistics for Strength, Toughness, Agility, and stuff. You know?”

  He cocked his head, considering that. “Great idea, but I’ve never heard of anything like that. It’s just a single Body rank that encompasses everything.”

  “Really? Seems like a waste,” she said to cover up her puzzlement. Why did her path break the Body rank into individual stats, then? Tomas be lying, or did he not know? Or was she the only one who got that level of detail? Tomas also said no one else saw screens popping up in their vision.

  He chuckled. “It’s a good idea. I can ask around, but someone would have to try to develop a scale to split it out. Not sure it would be worth it, since all the stats would just be the same rank as the Body rank, right?”

  “Probably.” And yet, her stats could grow independently. Her Body rank reflected the average of her stats. Why would she somehow get a more comprehensive system?

  “How do people evolve to higher grades?”

  He chuckled again. “You’re on a roll, Sarah. One impossible question after another. What brought all this on?”

  “Call it death battle inspiration. What do you mean, though?”

  “No one evolves to higher grades, Sarah. Sure, people can make improvements in their particular grade, growing from F-3 to F-5 in Body by working out. That sort of thing, but once people reach adulthood, their ranks are set. They never change.”

  “Huh.” What did that mean? She’d already seen that her ranks and stats could evolve.

  She desperately wanted to share all the details of her path with him and ask his opinion, but hesitated. How would he react if he learned she now had Spirit and Talent ranks in the E’s?

  Could she learn to use runes in real life? He’d suggested she could, but also made it clear tampering with runes would make her a hekha. She couldn’t take the risk. Not yet.

  Sarah leaned her head on his shoulder, drawing strength from the solid feeling of his presence as she tried to puzzle out what to do.

  He sighed. “I suppose we’ll miss that jazz band tonight after all.”

  She managed a weak laugh and wrapped an arm around his waist. “We’ll think of something.”