Chapter 20

"Idon't understand." I crawled to the nearest body and checked for a pulse. "She's dead."

They were all dead. Every single one of them. Except Natisha. And she didn't look so hot.

"The curse backfired." Bishop squatted next to me. "They couldn't stop it once they started, and they couldn't hold it back after they finished it. They unleashed it, but without the intended targets present, five practitioners died to kill five daughters."

Ambrose came to stand beside me, and he rested his hand on my shoulder. "Surrender or die."

The authority in his voice, paired with his touch, shocked me into staring up at him.

For a heartbeat, I thought he was talking to me, and I wasn't sure I had the juice to do anything about it. But he kept his sightless gaze on Natisha, and she wobbled as his ultimatum rang across the field.

"I offer you a new bargain." I shuddered to speak those damning words to her. "Will you hear it?"

"Speak, shadow child." Natisha melted onto her knees. "I will listen."

"Call our old bargain done," I pleaded, "and I swear your true name will die with this generation."

The promise was a huge one for me to make, but it was one I felt certain Tisdale would back.

A soft breeze tickled my cheek, and it was enough to collapse the ancient fae onto her side.

"Natisha?" I propped my legs under me. "Are you…?"

"It is done." Cheek pillowed on the lush grass, Natisha closed her eyes. "Now leave me be."

Bishop and I watched her a few minutes, longer than any air-breather could hold their breath.

"Stay put." He tapped my shoulder with the force of a hammer striking a stubborn nail. "I mean it."

Wariness in every step, he made his way over to her and checked her pulse. "She's sleeping."

"As in sleeping the sleep of the dead?"

"As in the thing old fae do when they've grown bored or tired of living and want to forget for a while."

As dedicated as she had been to her vengeance, I couldn't see her just letting it go and deciding to nap.

"The curse rebounded." I checked with Ambrose, who nodded. "She didn't get a full dose, there wasn't a sacrifice for her, but she designed the curse to kill those of her bloodline, and it struck her too."

"That's my guess." Bishop huffed out a laugh. "How embarrassing is that?"

"The spares were never extras," Ambrose murmured. "They were meant to take the hit for her."

Two women would have laid down their lives to protect Natisha from her own curse.

"She's going to be furious when she wakes up again," I stated the obvious. "Like rawr."

"She won't stop until she gets revenge." Bishop stared down at her. "It's all she has left."

"What do we do with her then?" I shoved a tangle of curls out of my eyes. "How long will she sleep?"

"The answer to both is—I don't know."

"I have an idea." Ambrose offered me a hand and pulled me to my feet. "Not a solution for forever, but one that will work for today."

"Do tell."

"Can you carry her? I don't have the strength." He waited for Bishop to lift her. "Come this way."

Ambrose led us to the copse of trees where the faegate connecting the archive to Faerie once loomed. He touched the arch of trees we had left unharmed and imbued it with the power he had siphoned when closing the portal in the grass. The center swirled once, and then it stabilized and hummed as it settled.

Though impressed, I was still wary. "How sure are you this leads back to the archive?"

"I am eighty-five percent certain."

"I'll go first." Bishop gathered Natisha close. "I have a better chance of getting out again than you two."

Unhappy to agree with him, I eased back to give him room. "Okay."

"Chin up." He winked. "Either way, this solves your Natisha problem."

He left before I could yell that he was more important to me than postponing the inevitable.

Less than a minute later, as best I could tell, he stuck his head through. "Come on in, the water's fine."

Rolling my eyes, I gestured Ambrose to go ahead. "See you on the other side."

"Don't dawdle," he warned and then entered the rippling magic.

"I wouldn't dream of it," I muttered, already feeling the pinch in my chest from his absence.

As I lifted a foot to step in, a force smacked into my lower back and sent me tumbling into the void.

Thanks to the age of the tether, I kept my wits about me as I skittered across the shale at the base of the archive. Digging in my nails to halt my slide, I glared at the faegate and cursed. "Ferro."

Ambrose rose behind him, substantial and terrifying, but I waved him off to handle this gwyllgi-style.

Unhappy with me, Ambrose nonetheless settled for leaning against the wall to watch the fight unfold.

"You shamed me," he bellowed, barely a limp in his stride as he stalked me. "Your mate took my pack."

"You can have them back." I leapt to my feet, wishing for my swords. "We don't want them."

"I must win their loyalty back by killing you," he snarled, "and your mate."

"Look, buddy, Midas let you off with a warning. Why can't you be happy with that? Seriously?"

Ferro's enraged snarl as he leapt at me raised the hairs on the back of my neck as I dove out of his way.

"Hadley."

Chancing a quick glance at Bishop, I watched him draw a slender dagger the length of my forearm from a sheath I hadn't been able to see at his hip until he touched it. He threw it to me, and I spun on Ferro.

The former alpha charged me, rage blinding him, but he wasn't back at one hundred percent yet.

"Fine." I danced aside, slashing his calf, and he howled with rage. "Have it your way."

Spinning on his heel, he wobbled on his injured leg, and stumbled. "Your blood will—"

I twisted back, put my weight behind the movement, and pierced his heart with the blade.

"I'm not sorry you're dead," I told him, his eyes clouding. "You helped mold Midas into the man he is today, but I would give him up in a blink to spare him all the misery you inflicted on him as a child."

Blood frothed between Ferro's lips. "I would…do…it…all over…again."

"Yeah." I released the hilt, the blade stuck in bone, and kept my distance. "I know." I watched him hit his knees. "Yet another reason why I'm not sorry about the whole killing-you thing."

Clutching the hilt, Ferro ripped the dagger from his chest and lifted his arm in a throwing arc.

"Hadley."

Ambrose materialized behind Ferro, ripping the dagger from his failing grip, but Ambrose had burned through his magic, and the blade slid through his fingers.

Bishop caught it midair then descended on Ferro, turning him into a gwyllgi pincushion.

All in all, it was a valiant group effort, even if I do say so myself.

And it guaranteed when Natisha woke, she would shriek for our heads on individual silver platters.

"Well, that was…violent." I wiped my hands on my pants. "You okay over there?"

The wintry road must have gotten Bishop's blood up, and if that was the case, I wanted it out of his system.

"Moron," Bishop panted. "Midas let him go. He should have stayed gone."

Guys like Ferro—spoiled, coddled, and plain mean—never did the smart thing. They didn't know how.

"Ferro has been the monster under Midas's bed since he was a kid. I feel no remorse in slaying him."

I said it out loud, not only to test how I felt about what I had done, but to let Bishop know I was okay.

"You might want to disavow knowledge of this part." Bishop crouched beside Ferro. "You don't need to see it."

Already certain where this was heading, I braced myself to bear witness. "I'm good."

Ambrose came to stand beside me, an oddly comforting presence under the circumstances.

Huffing a strained laugh, Bishop couldn't quite meet my gaze. "Liar."

Using a burst of terrifying speed and strength, he lopped off Ferro's head neat and clean.

Fisting the hair, Bishop collected his trophy and returned the dagger to its scabbard. "Ready to go?"

Unsure how to broach the topic of his new accessory, I bobbed my head and chirped, "Yup."

That squeak might not win me confidence as the future potentate, but I was under a lot of stress, okay?

"There," Bishop announced. "We're done here."

"Not quite." I pointed out the portal to Ambrose. "Bring it down?"

"Of course." Ambrose pivoted on his heel and began to drain it. "I'm happy to help."

With his tank on empty, Ambrose made quick work of devouring its power source.

The portal winked out, for good this time, and he hit the stairs at a dead run before the bloat struck me.

The long and winding staircase spiraled straight up, seemingly forever.

Did I mention it was both long and winding?

Magic hummed under my skin, the overflow from Ambrose, but even it was having trouble regulating me. I had done too much, been awake too long, and eaten too little. I wasn't built to hold so much power, and my body required more than energy if I wanted to keep putting one foot in front of the other.

Bishop tilted his head back to watch Ambrose's mad dash. "Where's he going in such a hurry?"

"To burn some calories." I fluttered my lashes at Bishop. "Carry me to the top?"

"Nice try." He raised Ferro's head. "I'm already carrying one extra."

Wrinkling my nose, I decided I would rather walk than carry that the whole way.

"I'll walk behind to catch you if you fall."

"Thaaanks."

"You're welcome."

Where was Midas and his carrying-damsels fetish when I needed him?

Sigh.

I began the climb, but I would like to go on record as not being happy about it.

Ambrose came and went, sprinting past us while humming one of Ford's favorite country songs, draining as much excess as possible to make room for the final tether he had to chow down on.

Bishop kept his own council, which got dull after a while, but the head in his hand kept me in my lane.

Whatever his purpose in bringing it with us, I had to admit it proved an effective Hadley deterrent.

"You're almost there," Ambrose announced, his passage stirring a breeze. "Two more flights."

"Thank the goddess." I put some pep in my step. "If I never see another archive, it will be too soon."

"I'm right there with you," Bishop panted. "This staircase is the true horror of this place."

Ambrose whooshed by me again, aiming for the exit. He disappeared behind a twist in the stairs then grunted and came stumbling down them. Baring his teeth, he growled at whatever had shoved him.

"You're not going anywhere," a young woman's voice drifted down to us. "Not without my mother."

Ah, yes.

I knew I had forgotten something.

Well, this answered the question of where the daughter and spare sacrifice got off to after Remy left.

"You're certifiable if you think I'm going to climb back down, throw your mom across my shoulder, then climb up again." I snorted. "I can barely stand here without my legs buckling. Why don't you go get your mom? I'll wait here."

"You'll leave, and you'll close the portal behind you."

"It sounds like you've got a choice to make. Your freedom or your mommy. I know which I'd choose."

"We can't waste our efforts here," Ambrose murmured. "Time moves differently in this place."

Nodding at the reminder, I had a decision to make. It was an easy one. "Take them down."

"With pleasure," Ambrose purred as he swept up the staircase. "Hello again…"

A scream filled the archive, and then a second voice joined it, as he tossed them off the staircase.

They fell.

And fell.

And fell.

I heard when they hit bottom.

I will never, no matter how long I live, forget the sound.

Ambrose shoved his hands into his pockets, another Linus affectation, then he smiled over his shoulder.

"I took them down, as you requested." His teeth flashed. "They made a satisfying crunch, did they not?"

"Yeah." I rubbed my prickling nape. "They crunched all right."

A Doritos Locos Taco had nothing on them.

Note to self: Get Ambrose to Taco Bell stat.

As much as I wanted to yell at him that wasn't what I meant, it was my own fault for giving him so much slack in his leash. Ambrose had no filters, and he had been corporeal enough during the last twenty-four hours to think he could start being sly in interpreting my orders again.

"Let's go." It wasn't what I wanted to say, but it was the best I had. "The others are waiting."

Ambrose gripped my arm at the threshold to the exit. "I will miss our conversations."

The bite of his nails in my skin caused sweat to sheen my palms. "Me too."

A slow breath parted his lips, and he squared his shoulders. I got it then, that he wasn't preventing me from leaving. He was preparing himself to go back to a shadowed half life. I could sympathize, but I had a lot to learn before I cracked open Pandora's box on his behalf again. He might want to be my friend, or ally, or whatever, but he had given me a firm reminder of his nature I couldn't afford to forget.

Eyes closed, he stepped through, one last solo act before he succumbed to the shadows.

Eager to be done with this place, I barely gave him a full thirty seconds before jumping in behind him.

Bishop must have felt the same. He hit me in the back and staggered me forward a few steps.

"Oh frak," I breathed. "This is…not good."

The portal spat us out where we began, back at the warehouse in Buckhead. Rather than it being empty, as we had hoped, it was filled to the rafters with witchborn fae not yet deployed.

As our heads breached the watery surface, the gathering turned in unison to scowl at our sudden arrival.

With the faegate into Faerie down, the ring of guardians had disbanded and stood among their coven.

Once Bishop and I were clear, I turned to Ambrose. "Take the portal down."

We might not make it out of the warehouse alive, but we could do this much for the others still fighting.

Behind us, Ambrose gulped the magic fueling the portal. That left Bishop and me to face the pissed-off leftovers of a coup gone horribly wrong. From their perspective. I mean, I was pretty proud of us.

Go, Team Atlanta.

"Leave now," Bishop offered to anyone willing to listen, "and we will let you live."

The coven, women and men, laughed softly among themselves. Until they spotted the head in his hand.

A hysterical giggle threatened to escape me over their shocked faces.

Intimidating as Bishop might be, holding his bloody souvenir, we had no way to fight this many practitioners. They had to know that. Still, I kept my expression blank, hoping to bluff them, but I felt cracks forming as they made ready their spells.

"Close your eyes," Bishop told me, a lilt in his voice. "I don't want you to see."

"We can fight our way out." I gripped his arm. "You don't have to do this."

The glamour he wore like a second skin, the one that muted his sharp edges until he almost passed for normal, unraveled to show him as he truly was in all his wintery glory.

Skin the color of freshly fallen snow, hair the shade of newborn flakes twirling on a chilly breeze, eyes a bottomless silver that dropped my stomach into my toes.

"I've done too much," he rasped, musical and lush. "I've pushed too far." The temperature around him dipped enough to chill me. "I must feed if I'm to continue on."

The portal collapsed behind us with a pulse of foul magic that rustled my hair into my eyes.

Ambrose, done with his duty, swirled around my legs like a cat stropping its owner's ankles.

"All right." I closed my eyes, more terrified than I wanted to admit. "I won't look."

Icy lips brushed my cheek, their imprint frostbitten into my skin. "Good girl."

Screams pierced my ears, and I clamped my hands on either side of my head to muffle them. I kept my lids screwed shut tight, and I didn't peek once. Not because I wasn't curious—I was—but because I wouldn't have wanted anyone to see me feed when Ambrose had claimed my body to hunt in.

What felt like hours later, I started as a chill hand touched my arm. "Is it safe to look?"

"Yeah," Bishop said, sounding more like himself. "You can open your eyes."

The first thing I saw was him, and I couldn't help noticing how the platinum hair he kept trimmed short was as black as pitch. His eyes glowed a brilliant emerald green. A flush rode his cheekbones, and his skin tone matched mine. If I had passed him on the street, I wouldn't have recognized him.

The version of Bishop who was my friend starved himself to maintain control over his hungers.

This Bishop was brimming with health, with vitality, with…death. So much death.

I held his gaze, both to show him I wasn't afraid of him and to prevent myself from looking past him to the slumped figures. I didn't want to know how they had died. I didn't want that mental picture popping in my head every time I looked at Bishop. I had been gifted acceptance from him, and I intended to return the favor.

"Ready to go?" The words rushed out, too bright and too loud. "The others will be waiting."

He stepped closer to me, and I almost held my breath, but I forced myself to calm.

This is Bishop, my friend, and he won't hurt me.

Ignore the head swinging from his hand, and his makeover, and it was like any other night at the office.

"The portal is closed." He stared past my shoulder. "The archive is sealed."

Natisha was locked in a box where she could do no harm.

For the time being.

"We've hit the coven where it hurts." I smiled at him, lips wobbling. "They'll be limited to whatever form they brought with them, and once it's gone, it's gone forever." Eyes on the exit, I started walking. "Any idea how we get back to Atlanta?"

Ambrose pointed to the nearest corpse, but I really, really didn't want to look too hard at them.

"Keys." Bishop took the cue when I was slow to act. "I'll get them."

When he turned his back, I collected myself and readjusted my expression, going for calm and collected.

"We can take one of the vans." He jiggled the key ring at me. "They might provide cover too."

Probably not for long, since there were no more practitioners coming, but we only needed time to reach the others at the Active Oval. Assuming they had waited for us there. They might have gone on to the Faraday to get between the coven and their final target: Liz.

A teeny shred of pity for Archimedes wormed its way through me. He was being born into a new life and a new world, and, if Remy was right, he would recall his life before and how he got there. He would no longer be alpha. He would have no power he didn't earn. He would have to start over from scratch.

He had been given the second chance any one of his neighbors in the archive would have given their immortal souls for. He would get to live again, to laugh again. Maybe, if he was lucky, to love again too.

I hoped he did more with this life. I hoped he learned kindness. I hoped Tisdale didn't hit the roof when she found out one of her founding fathers was about to become her newest pack member…

Ambrose led us to the vans, and Bishop located the correct one. We encountered no one along the way.

The warehouse had gone as silent as a tomb.

Bishop drove us back to Atlanta, and I must have fallen asleep at some point. I jerked awake when he jabbed me in the shoulder with a fingertip, confused about where I was, who I was, and why I was in a stinky van. A trail of drool smudged the window where my lip had peeled back as my face slid down the glass, which was super sexy, and I had to wipe it clean to see anything.

A familiar outline sat on a bench in the park ahead, waiting for us, and we climbed out to greet her.

"You're alive." Remy leapt to her feet. "Congrats!" She brought the phone up to her ear. "Later, Barnes."

"Barnes?" I eyed her with suspicion. "As in my lawyer, Joseph Barnes?"

"I was totally not just reaching out to him for a sneak peek at your will." She pocketed her cell. "In unrelated news, it turns out there's this whole attorney/client privilege thing that prevents a lawyer from answering questions about a client without the client's express permission or some nonsense."

That, more than any test Abbott might administer, told me she was the real Remy and not a coven spy.

And that I should be explicit in my last wishes if I wanted Midas or anyone else to see a penny of their potential inheritance.

"Imagine that." I rolled my eyes. "Where are the others?"

"As soon as the portal closed behind you, they returned to the Faraday." She limped over, swords in hand, and held them out to me. "Well, the area around the Faraday anyhow."

"Then that's where we'll head too." I accepted them, their weight a comfort, and sheathed them within Ambrose. "Are you coming with us?"

"Meet you there." She pointed across the way. "Tonight is not the night to leave my wheels on the street." She reached in her pocket and tossed me a KitKat bar. "Midas said to give you that."

Heart melting at his thoughtfulness, I scanned behind her, already knowing he wasn't here. "How is he?"

"He's fine." She rolled her eyes like it ought to have been obvious. "So's his mom."

"He's really okay?" I clutched the treat to my heart. "No lasting damage?"

"A medic examined them both, a witch. She's not as familiar with gwyllgi physiology, but she gave them a clean bill of health. She cautioned them to follow up with Abbott, but we could tell when you beat the curse." She chuckled. "They jerked upright like twin vampires rising from their coffins."

Most vampires didn't sleep in coffins, only the ones with a flair for the dramatic, but it painted a picture.

"Thank the goddess." I tore into the candy wrapper. "We'll follow you."

To this day, I'm convinced the KitKat teleported directly into my stomach. It was in my hand one second and in my belly the next. I didn't savor the chocolate on my tongue. There was no flavor. I was too tired, and my taste buds had given up too.

This might be an all-new low for me. As a chocoholic with a refined palate, I was ashamed of myself.

To say we followed Remy is to imply that we could catch her, or even see her taillights.

Mostly, we used common sense and got within three blocks of the Faraday before we hit a barrier.

Men and women in uniform held the line, but their Atlanta Police Department uniforms and snazzy patrol cars didn't prevent me from identifying them as sentinels here to defend the Society's interests.

After exiting the van, I waited on Bishop (and Ferro's head) to join me. "To glamour or not to glamour?"

I was proud of how smooth the question came out, without a hint of underlying stress.

"I'm going to hang back." He ruffled his dark hair. "Glamour doesn't stick well when I'm full."

"I'll check in then." I left him to cross to a woman I recognized from a previous case. "Hey, Landers."

"Whitaker." She nodded. "I wondered when you were going to show."

Sentinels were Low Society necromancers, and if they didn't know Atlanta was a secret fae mecca, I wasn't about to inform them. No good little necromancer got friendly with fae. They sure as heck didn't create portals for romps around Faerie.

"My team hit their HQ." I shook her hand. "The coven is out of reinforcements."

"Nice." She grinned at me, flashing a dimple in one cheek. "I figured you were off cowboying."

"Yeehaw," I said dryly. "Got an update for me?"

"There are seventy-five active practitioners left by our count." She gestured to the fog. "Hard to tell in all this, but the shifters are leveling the playing field."

"You guys have been busy." I shoved the warehouse body count out of mind. "Have you seen Tisdale?"

"Let me check." Landers referenced the time on her phone. "Not for about thirty minutes."

A throaty baying reached my ears, and my heart lurched as a familiar voice answered the song.

Midas.

Sure enough, a blond gwyllgi sped around the corner and ran full out until he reached the barricade. He shifted without slowing, plowing into me hard enough to send us both tumbling to the pavement. Midas tucked me against him, twisting me beneath him, and took the hit for us.

"You're alive," he breathed. "Thank God."

"How did you find me so fast?" I touched his chest, right over his heart. "The bond?"

"Uh, no." Remy stood over us. "I called him." She snorted. "We needed a guide to the action."

Midas's laughter might have stung me, if he wasn't so very pretty up close. "Where is the action?"

"All over." He kissed me so fast I didn't even taste him, then stood. "Let's go."

Hauling me to my feet, I went along as he led Remy and me into the gloom. "You're mighty chipper."

"Tonight I'm the envy of every male in the pack," he bragged. "Why wouldn't I be?"

The hungry smile he turned on me ignited heat in my belly that sparked crimson in his eyes.

"The hero returns," Ford crowed. "All hail the conquering Hadley."

Hank, bloodied and filthy, laughed—actually laughed—like a normal person.

"Hush." I ignored the heat in my cheeks. "This was a team effort."

Aware he owed thanks to more than me, Midas craned his neck. "Where is Bishop?"

"He's here." I flicked a hand in a vague direction. "And there."

Midas cocked an eyebrow, but he didn't press the issue, and for that I was grateful.

Back to important matters, I focused on the biggie. "How's the Faraday?"

"No one told you?" Ford did a little dance. "The coven has abandoned the Faraday as a target."

"Without Natisha," Hank explained, "the coven has no interest in Liz, or her child."

"Then you guys don't even need me," I joked, relief sharp and giddy. "I'll just go home and veg out."

"There's a pocket of resistance near Ben's Fried Chicken."

The voice jerked my spine straight, and I whirled to find Ares standing there, dirty and grim.

An uncomfortable silence swept through our small gathering. Her timing couldn't have been worse.

"Hey," I said lamely, wishing she hadn't overheard us discussing her mate. "It's good to see you."

"Yeah." Her eyes held deep shadows, and her voice came out rough. "Good to see you."

Lips dry, I ran out of things to say. She had already told us her reason for arriving and was done talking.

"Not Ben's." Ford clutched his chest. "It's a culinary icon. We can't let that insult stand."

The act earned him a forced chuckle or two before Hank took control of the scene.

Command ought to have fallen to Midas, as beta, but he had been missing for one half of the battle and injured the other. I was relieved when Hank stepped in to coordinate.

"Move out." He whistled once to snag everyone's attention. "Mouths shut, eyes open."

"Hmm." Remy sidled up to me. "He's got that sexy-grumpy thing going on."

Wrinkling my nose, I tried to be supportive. "He's definitely grumpy."

"No taste."

"As you wanted to smooth Ambrose honey butter on your biscuit earlier, I don't see the insult here."

"Hunt coven now." Midas shooed them along. "Discuss questionable taste in men later."

"You represent my questionable taste in men." I fell in line. "You get that, right?"

"Hush," Bishop counselled from the shadows. "They'll hear you coming a mile away."

Making a face at where the voice originated, I zipped my lips, drew my swords, and made ready.

Along the way, we met up with wargs from the Clairmont and Loup Garou packs, as well as lions from the Kingsman pride. They spotted me and fell in with our group, which grew until we filled the streets.

With so many fighters, I didn't have to lift a finger, and I eventually returned my swords to Ambrose.

Bored with our promenade, Remy had multiplied and ranged ahead, giving Reece eyes on the ground.

With seven selves to do the grunt work, I had no doubt one of them would find its way to Lillian. It would put Remy's mind at ease, knowing her friend was okay, and give us an update on the Faraday.

"What can I do?" I turned to Midas when my patrol became more of a stroll. "How can I help?"

"You help by showing your face." He slung his arm around my shoulders. "Everyone is worried about you. They're asking for you. It'll do a lot of good for your army to see their general on the battlefield."

"My…army?" I craned my neck to see him better. "They're not my army. They're concerned citizens."

"Do you think they would have come for anyone else? Do you think they would have fought for anyone else?" He shook his head. "I was born here, lived most of my life here, and I can tell you they would have left the city to its fate. The Clairmonts would have holed up until the dust cleared and then cut a deal with the victor. The Loups would have been looting by now and setting fires to churn the chaos. The Kingsman lions would have taken Aubrey and run."

"You've done what no one else has managed," Ford agreed. "You united this city under one banner—yours. Others tried it with violence, but you managed it with kindness."

Tears pricked the backs of my eyes, and I wiped my cheeks dry. "Must be my allergies."

We continued on, gathering more fighters as we went. We began working the familiar grids of my patrol routes, clearing one street at a time. I met with each group we came across, and I felt like a politician running for office.

Which, I suppose, in a way, I was. But not tonight. This was bigger than any promotion.

Still, I shook hands.

I offered encouragements.

I let them see me bloody, exhausted, and bruised.

I showed them I was willing to fight with them and for them.

Bit by bit, we rid the city of its black magic cloud and the insidious rot that permeated its streets.

And we did it together.