Page 124 of Dead Beat

“I’ve been exploring various versions of Osiris Machines,” Darlington offered. “The options are limited by the ingredients we have. Many were also site-specific—linked to particular temples or altar sites. The blueprints might refer to where the pieces are supposed to be brought together.”

“We need a plan, some kind of containment for it if this is all a trap,” said Turner. “We already know none of those young idiots were thinking about consequences. We have to be better. If Reiter wants the golem built, that’s not a good sign.”

“He told Alex he wanted it as a bodyguard,” Dawes recalled.

“He was lying,” Alex said. She had used the time when she was supposed to be sleeping to set her own plan in motion and she couldn’t dodge the truth anymore. “There is no golem. There never was.”

“How can you possibly know that?” Turner demanded.

“I was in Hector’s head.”

“I got flashes of what Reiter felt when we were back in time, but—”

“It was different for the soldier.” And it was different for her. She was the Wheelwalker. This wasn’t the first time she’d ridden shotgun with another soul. “When I was in Hector’s mind, something kept bothering me. The way he was talking, the way he felt when he was bragging about beating the devil. He wasn’t afraid of the adventure or the fight, but his thoughts kept brushing up against the prospect of what came next.”

“After they captured the demon?” asked Dawes.

“That’s right. It meant something more to him. Because he’s the soldier. Because he would be the one called into battle if something went wrong.”

“No,” said Darlington. “No. That can’t…” He threw back his head, an expression of utter dismay on his face. “Greaves. Helm. How did I miss it?”

“I don’t get it,” said Tripp.

“Go on,” said Darlington. “Tell them.” He sounded angry, but she suspected he was just mad at himself.

“The artifacts aren’t pieces of a golem. They’re armor,” Alex said. “Armor for the soldier.”

It hadn’t come as a surprise, not really. The golem had seemed too good to be true because it was. A magical monster to fight your battles? To face your worst enemy? Magic was never that kind.

“You cannot go back to hell,” said Dawes. “Golgarot will be ready. You won’t make it out again.”

“Then what are we supposed to do?” Turner objected. “We’re out of time. That thing in the playground was too much for all of us.”

Suddenly everyone was talking at once. She held up her hands and to her shock, they all went silent. Now this was power: getting a table full of know-it-alls to shut up.

“I can get us answers,” she said. “I’ve set a meeting.”

“With Reiter?” Turner asked.

“With Hector.”

“How?” Darlington pressed. She could have told him what she planned, but she hadn’t wanted him to stop her.

“I reached out to the Bridegroom and I brought him Hector’s old helmet so he could find him.”

“Alex,” Dawes cried. “You’re already too tightly tied to that Gray!”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“Of course it matters!”

“It doesn’t. Those things can’t matter anymore. The prohibitions against associating with Grays are peacetime rules. We’re at war now. Turner is right—Golgarot isn’t sending ordinary grunts anymore, and if something happens to one of us, that’s it. It’s all over.”

“Wait,” said Darlington. “Where did you get Hector’s helmet from?”

“Payne Whitney,” Tripp replied.

They all stared at him.