Well, MII did have a division specializing in private security. Matilda would be safe with Augustine.
“Half an hour after that, two teams attacked in four of those things.”
Runa pointed inside the motor pool, where Grandma Frida was elbow-deep in the engine of a dented Guardian and humming softly. Two others waited on the left, in addition to the two she and Arabella brought from Keystone. The entire side wall of the motor pool was black with soot.
Grandma saw me looking, gave me a big smile, and went back to singing lullabies to the personnel carrier.
“Bug warned us when he spotted them, so we had time to set up. Leon took that street, on the left, and I took this one. Your mom was up there, in the attic thingy. She had wanted your grandma to take the tank out, but your grandma said, ‘Penelope, once you hit them with a tank, there isn’t much left, is there?’”
I can’t even.
“And then your mom said that all those vehicles would make a lovely funeral procession when we bury the children. She said maybe your grandma could paint them black to match the coffins.”
God.
“Then your grandma went to get the tank. There isn’t much else to tell. She shot the first car. It exploded, which was kinda cool. Then she knocked it out of the way with her tank and started chasing the other three cars with it. They made a circle around the warehouse. Whoever was driving the cars was pretty good, because I’ve never seen anyone drive backward that fast before. She banged another one with the tank, and then the bad guys decided to get out of the armored SUV things, and we started killing them. They had a pyrokinetic mage with them. That’s his corpse over there. He fireballed the warehouse. It caught on fire, which was exciting. Then I killed him. And then the cavalry showed up. Some of the bad guys ran away.”
Judging by the carnage in the street, most of them didn’t.
“I don’t know if you know, but Leon is psycho. I heard him talking to himself when shooting people. He used funny voices, Catalina.”
“Your brother thinks he’s a werewolf.”
“Good point.” Runa looked at the moon. “You didn’t tell me your mom was a sniper.”
“It didn’t seem important.”
“Of course, it is important. We both have moms who kill people for a living. Well, had, in my case, but still important. We have a lot in common, actually. Our dads are gone. We’re both the Head of our Houses. We both have younger male brothers or cousins who are crazy. We’re both murderers.”
Okay then. “Are you all right?”
“I’m great,” Runa said. “I can’t decide if I should start screaming because I killed nine people or celebrate because I avenged my mom. It felt good to kill them, but now I feel really guilty about it. I’m probably going to have a nervous breakdown once I process all of this.” She paused. “Yes, that sounds really nice. I think I’ll do that.”
“Okay, let’s go inside.” I got up and pulled her off the tire to her feet.
“But the dead people . . .”
“I think you’ve had enough dead people for today. Come on, let’s go inside, I’ll make you a nice cup of tea, you’ll cry and you’ll feel better.”
I was dragging her inside when my sister pulled up in her armored Mercedes.
“Where were you?” I growled as soon as Arabella jumped out.
“I drove to Austin to our insurance company HQ. They had no right to cancel our policy.”
“Did you get anywhere?”
“They called the cops and threw me out.”
“Did you get arrested?” If she had, I would deal with it.
Her expression turned bitter. “No. They didn’t have the balls.”
“Don’t leave my brother alone with Alessandro,” Runa said. She tried to turn around. “He’s a killer. Don’t leave them alone!”
“I’ve got this,” Arabella told me.
“I’ll go and get Ragnar,” I promised.
Arabella took Runa’s other arm and led her into the warehouse.
I turned around and walked over to where Ragnar and Alessandro sat at the table. Ragnar watched me approach.
“Your sister is worried about you,” I told him.
“He’ll be fine,” Alessandro said.
“He asked her if he was a werewolf.”
Ragnar sighed. “It’s a quote from a book. ‘When war knocks on your door, bringing suffering and death, good men turn into savage wolves.’ Am I a wolf now?”
“It depends on your definition of a wolf.” I sat on the bench. “Sometimes wolves go rabid. They slaughter everything they see just because they can. But most wolves kill only to eat or to defend their pack. You seem like more of the second type to me.”
“It’s my fault.” Ragnar turned to me, his eyes clear and lucid. “If I hadn’t tried to kill myself, none of this would’ve happened.”
His memories had come back. Hell of a timing.
“That’s ridiculous,” I told him. “None of this is your fault in any way.”
“If I didn’t collapse like some stupid baby, Runa wouldn’t have asked you for help. People wouldn’t have attacked your home. They wouldn’t have tried to kill your family because of us.”
“You’re being a dramatic fifteen-year-old,” Alessandro said, his voice harsh.
Ragnar drew back as if slapped.
“Guilt is a luxury and right now you can’t afford it,” Alessandro continued. “Do you want to be an adult or a child? Children require comfort even in a crisis, because they can’t understand how urgent things are. In a child’s world, it’s all about them: how this affects me, how this makes me feel, why is life so unfair? An adult sees a problem and tries to fix it. They think of other people and they plan their actions aware of the consequences. They understand that there will be time to deal with grief and loss after the danger is over.”
“So how do I fix this?” Ragnar asked, his face grim.
“Survive,” Alessandro said. “The enemy is trying to kill you and your sister. If you live, you win.”
Ragnar shook his head. “That’s not enough.”
“It’s plenty for now,” I told him.
“What do you want to do?” Alessandro leaned closer to the boy. “Do you want to go over and kill the people who murdered your mother?”
“Yes!”
“You can’t. Not yet. You’d die and they would win. That’s also part of adulthood—adults understand their limitations.”
“I did fine,” Ragnar squeezed through clenched teeth.
Alessandro looked at the bodies. “Their faces tell me that your sister is too caught up in making her enemies suffer. And that trail of vomit over there tells me you hesitated. You made them sick first. Was it hard to kill them?”
A tear swelled in Ragnar’s left eye. He swiped at it, his face a rigid mask.
“Don’t be ashamed,” Alessandro told him. “That’s good. That’s what separates us from them. It should be hard. Killing another human being is the hardest thing you will ever do. But to fight in this war, your kills must be instantaneous. Any hesitation gives your enemy an opening to end you. You die, they win. Acknowledge to yourself that you hesitate. Don’t engage unless you must. Remember your job. You must live through this.”
“To do what?” Ragnar stared at the corpses.
“To train and practice to make sure that the next time someone comes for your family, you will be ready. Your sisters will need you.”
Ragnar jumped off the table and went inside.
“Harsh,” I told him.
“That’s what he needs right now. Trust me,” Alessandro said. “If he has a goal, it will keep him looking forward. Thinking about what already happened and what he could’ve done about it will just drive him mad.”
He got up and walked away. I took in the street full of corpses one last time and went into the warehouse, to the warm light and sounds of my family.