The sun hung low over the city, painting the rooftops in shades of gold and grey.

  Zak lay flat on his stomach, binoculars pressed to his eyes, watching the main square five blocks away. Beside him, Ron crunched on an apple, completely indifferent to the historical moment unfolding below.

  "You know," Ron said between bites, "most people would be down there. Screaming and waving flags."

  "Most people don't have bounties on their heads."

  "Fair point."

  Jon shifted beside them, adjusting the straps on his mask for the hundredth time. It was new—matte black with a deep red streak down the left side.

  Zak glanced at him. "If you keep touching it, you'll rub the paint off."

  Jon's hand dropped. "It's tight."

  "It's a mask, Grandpa. Not a sweater."

  Ron snorted. "Leave him alone, Grumpy. It's his first day wearing a costume. Let him enjoy it."

  Jon shot him a look. "I'm not enjoying anything."

  "Could've fooled me. You've been flexing in front of mirrors all morning."

  "I have not—"

  "Rumiko saw you."

  Jon's jaw tightened behind the mask. "Rumiko talks too much."

  Zak almost smiled. "Didn't expect you to put it on this fast, old man."

  "I'm thirty-seven."

  "Exactly. Ancient."

  Ron laughed. "He's got you there. What's next? A cape? Matching tights?"

  Jon sighed. "I regret everything."

  "No you don't. You love us."

  Jon didn't answer. Which was answer enough.

  Below, the crowd erupted. Zak raised the binoculars.

  The royal carriage had arrived.

  Pale horses. Gold trim. And there, standing in the open carriage, waving to the masses—

  The Queen.

  Rensira.

  Young—maybe twenty-five—with pale hair and skin that seemed to glow. She smiled and waved like she had all the time in the world.

  Which, Zak supposed, she did.

  Ron whistled softly. "She's... something."

  "Yeah."

  "You think she's really a thousand years old?"

  "I don't know what I think anymore."

  Jon stared through his own binoculars. "She doesn't look like a ruler. She looks like a painting come to life."

  "That's the point," Zak said. "Make them love you. Make them forget you're not like them."

  They watched the carriage move through the square. The Queen touching hands, kissing children, performing the ancient dance of royalty.

  Ron finished his apple and tossed the core. "So she's here to 'see the people.' That's the story?"

  "That's the story."

  "And the real reason?"

  Zak shrugged. "Your guess is as good as mine."

  Jon lowered his binoculars. "Queens don't make surprise visits to random cities. Not without reason."

  "Maybe she's bored," Ron offered.

  "Immortals don't get bored. They get patient." Jon's voice was quiet. "And when an immortal gets patient, it means she's waiting for something."

  Zak spoke first.

  "This city's getting more crowded every day."

  Ron snorted. "Tell me about it."

  Later That Night

  The city slept.

  Ron moved across the rooftops like he'd been born there. Three hours of searching for Erik. Nothing.

  Then he felt it.

  A pulse. Low and deep beneath the city. Not sound—energy. Raw and old.

  He followed it down. Into the tunnels.

  The tunnel entrance was hidden behind a rotting door. Ron pushed it open slowly, sword ready, flashlight off.

  Darkness. Absolute.

  He stepped inside.

  The tunnels were ancient—pre-war, maybe older than the city itself. Brick walls dripped with moisture. The air tasted of earth and rust.

  Then—footsteps.

  Not his own.

  Ron pressed against the wall. One set of footsteps. Light. Careful.

  If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

  A figure emerged from the shadows.

  Small. Hooded. Dressed in plain clothes. But the energy coming off them—enormous. Like standing next to a bonfire.

  Ron stepped out. "Lost?"

  The figure stopped. Turned.

  Under the hood, a face caught what little light there was.

  Pale skin. Like glass. Green eyes—impossibly green, deep as forests. Small lips, perfectly formed, curved in amusement.

  Ron forgot to breathe for a second.

  She was tall. Maybe 174 centimeters. Her body moved with a grace that didn't belong in a dirty tunnel.

  "You're following me," she said. Voice soft. Teasing.

  "You're in my city."

  "You're in my city?" One eyebrow rose. "I didn't realize cities belonged to masked men."

  "Only the interesting parts."

  She laughed. Low and warm. It did something to Ron's chest.

  "You're not from here," he said.

  "And you know this how?"

  "Because if you were, you'd know who I am." He gestured at his mask. "You'd be running."

  She studied him. Those green eyes traveled over his masked face, his stance, the sword at his hip. Then her lips curved.

  "And who are you? Some kind of celebrity?"

  Ron grinned behind his mask. "In this city? Yeah. I'm the Nightmare."

  "Nightmare?" She tasted the word. "That's dramatic."

  "Shadow Nightmare, technically. My friend calls me Ostrich."

  She laughed again. Genuine. Surprised. "Ostrich?"

  "Long story."

  "I have time." She stepped closer. "Though I suspect you don't."

  "You'd be surprised. I'm full of surprises."

  "I can see that." Her eyes sparkled. "Shadow Nightmare. It's... actually kind of beautiful."

  "Coming from you, I'll take that as a compliment."

  "Oh? And what do you know about me?"

  "Nothing. Except you walk like you own the darkness, you're clearly not afraid of anything, and you have the most interesting eyes I've seen in—" he paused—"well, ever."

  She tilted her head. "You're bold for a masked man."

  "You're bold for a woman alone in monster territory."

  "Monster territory?" She stepped closer. Close enough to touch. "Is that what this is?"

  "Could be. Depends on what comes out of the dark."

  "And what if I'm what comes out of the dark?"

  Ron looked at her. At the ancient wisdom in those young eyes. At those small lips curved in a smile that promised secrets.

  "Then I'd say you're the most interesting thing I've found all night."

  She laughed—that same warm sound. "You're charming, Shadow Nightmare."

  "I try."

  "I'm Rensira." She offered her hand.

  He looked at it. Pale. Perfect. "You're just giving me your name?"

  "It's polite."

  "Most people in tunnels at midnight aren't polite."

  "Most people in tunnels at midnight aren't me." She let her hand drop when he didn't take it, but her smile didn't fade. "You're looking for someone. An old man. Dangerous. Erik."

  Ron stiffened. "How do you know that?"

  "I know many things." She stepped past him, deeper into the tunnel. "I know he's lost and grieving and too proud to admit it."

  "You talk like you know him."

  "I know men like him." She glanced back. "Grief makes people cruel. Makes them desperate."

  "And you? What does grief do to you?"

  She stopped. For a moment, the ancient mask slipped.

  "It makes me lonely," she whispered.

  The words hung in the darkness.

  Ron moved closer. Not threatening. Just... closer.

  "Rensira." He said her name slowly. Testing it. "Who are you really?"

  She turned. Those green eyes searched his mask.

  "Someone who's been alive too long," she said quietly. "Someone who thought she'd seen everything. Until tonight."

  "And what's different about tonight?"

  She smiled—small and intimate.

  "A masked man with a ridiculous nickname made her laugh."

  Ron's heart did something complicated.

  "Ridiculous? Shadow Nightmare is terrifying."

  "It's endearing." She reached up—slowly—and touched the white crack on his mask. "This is nice. Makes you look broken. Approachable."

  "I'm not broken."

  "Aren't we all?" Her fingers traced the line. "I should go."

  "Running away?"

  "Moving forward." She pulled her hood up. "Be careful with Erik. He's not just dangerous. He's broken. And broken men do terrible things."

  "Rensira."

  She paused.

  "Will I see you again?"

  She looked back. Even in darkness, he saw those lips curve.

  "If you're lucky, Shadow Nightmare." A pause. "If I'm lucky too."

  Then she was gone.

  Ron stood alone, heart pounding.

  What the hell just happened?

  Meanwhile, Across the City

  Zak moved through the night like a shadow. Restless. Searching for nothing. Letting the cold air clear his head.

  Then he saw her.

  White coat. White mask. Moving fast between buildings.

  Ghost.

  He ran.

  She was faster, but she slowed. Just enough. Letting him follow.

  She led him to an old warehouse near the docks. Stopped in the center. Waited.

  Zak stepped inside, blade raised.

  "Why am I here?"

  She watched him. Silent.

  Then reached up and pulled off her mask.

  Young. Their age. Pale skin, dark hair, eyes that had seen too much.

  Zak stared.

  Not because she was beautiful. Not because of the emptiness in her eyes.

  Because he'd seen that face before.

  In an old photograph. On Fix's desk.

  Fix's daughter.

  The one the Lynx took. The one they said was dead.

  Ghost frowned at his silence. "What?"

  Zak lowered his sword slowly. "Nothing. Just... you look different without the mask."

  "I should hope so." Her voice was flat. Empty. "I wanted to see you. The real you. To ask you something."

  Zak's mind raced. Fix's daughter. Alive. Here. Working for Erik. She doesn't remember. She has no idea.

  He forced himself to focus. "Ask."

  She took a step closer.

  "When Erik took me, he did things. Experiments. He made me stronger. Faster." She touched her chest. "But he took something too. I don't know what. It's just... gone."

  She met his eyes.

  "You kill people. Like me. But you also protect them. The girl. The old man. Your friend." She paused. "Are you empty too? Like me? Or do you feel things?"

  Zak looked at her. At this girl who had no idea who she really was. At the daughter of the man who had saved his life.

  He could tell her. Right now. Your father is alive. He's looking for you.

  But would she believe him? Or would she kill him where he stood?

  He chose a different path.

  "I'm sure that crazy old man Erik did something to your head," he said, almost smiling behind his mask. "Made you forget your childhood. Your real family. All of it."

  Ghost's eyes narrowed. "I have no family. Erik is everything to me."

  "Figured you'd say that." Zak tilted his head. "Maybe one day I'll take off my mask too. Let you see the real me."

  She blinked. "You mean... when we try to kill each other?"

  Zak snorted. "And you say you don't have feelings. That was a joke, sweetheart. You just made one."

  Ghost stared at him. For a long moment, her face was unreadable.

  Then—just for a second—the corner of her mouth twitched.

  It was gone before he could be sure he'd seen it.

  She put her mask back on.

  "Next time, I might have to kill you."

  Zak raised his sword. "I know."

  She turned toward the shadows.

  "Ghost."

  She paused.

  "If you ever want to remember—find me."

  She didn't answer.

  But this time, her shoulders didn't shake.

  She just walked away.

  Zak stood alone in the empty warehouse, heart pounding.

  Fix's daughter. Alive.

  He needs to know.

  But not yet.

  Back on the Rooftops

  Ron found him an hour later.

  "You look like you've seen a ghost."

  Zak didn't laugh. "Funny."

  "What happened?"

  Zak told him.

  Ron listened. When Zak finished, he let out a long breath.

  "Fix's daughter," Ron whispered. "Holy shit."

  "Yeah."

  "Are you going to tell him?"

  "I don't know." Zak rubbed his face. "She doesn't remember anything. If I tell him, and he tries to reach her... she might kill him. Or Erik might find out and kill her."

  Ron nodded slowly. "So we wait."

  "We wait."

  They stood in silence.

  Then Ron said: "I met someone too. In the tunnels."

  Zak turned. "What kind of someone?"

  "I don't know yet." Ron's voice was strange. "A girl. Pale skin. Green eyes. Felt like standing next to a fire."

  "And?"

  "And she laughed at my jokes." Ron paused. "She touched my mask."

  Zak blinked. "She what?"

  "Touched the crack. Said it made me look 'approachable.'" Ron rubbed his neck. "She gave me her name. Rensira."

  The name hung in the air.

  Zak's blood went cold. "Rensira? Like—"

  "The Queen? Yeah. Figured that out after." Ron laughed weakly. "I think I just flirted with a thousand-year-old queen in a sewer."

  "And?"

  "And I think she flirted back."

  Silence.

  Zak spoke quietly. "This city is getting way too crowded."

  Ron nodded. "You're telling me."

  They looked out at the sleeping city, each lost in thought.

  Somewhere down there, a queen walked alone in the dark.

  Somewhere else, a girl with no memories wondered if she had a heart.

  And in a small apartment, Fix slept, unaware that his daughter was alive.

  The night held its breath.

  Waiting.