The man flipped head-first into the wall, smacking the alley ground hard on the way down. He groaned, but before he could get up, a pair of hands grabbed him by the collar of his jacket and slammed his head back.

"I already told you I don't know anything," he growled, licking blood from his bottom lip.

"And I already told you that I don't believe that." Beatrice cocked her head to the side, two stray stands of hair framing her face. "You were Adriel's right-hand man, Kristian. I know you have the information I need."

The scientist shook his head. "Adriel was a secretive…man. He told us nothing of his true plans—only what we needed to know to prepare for his ascension."

Beatrice stared at the man from beneath her brows, and without breaking eye contact, pulled out a dagger from a hidden sheath on her lower back. She pressed the tip to the soft part under his chin, drawing blood. "I will not ask again."

"I don't know how else one can access the other realm!" Kristian hissed, eyes wide.

"You do."

"Not without a portal or the halo. We all found out almost a year ago when Michael Salvius entered the portal that we had an alternate way to access Adriel's realm, but other than using the halo as a portal key, I don't know how else someone could enter Reya's realm." Kristian raised his chin as Beatrice pushed the blade higher. "You don't even know if you could survive getting to the other realm; Dr. Salvius was never able to enter the portal."

"Perhaps she wasn't trying hard enough."

Kristian shook his head. "Trust me, she was trying. She nearly killed herself trying to get Michael back."

Ava's sad smile flashed before her.

Beatrice shook her head. "I will find out how to get her back."

Kristian laughed, though there was no humor or life to it. "You can't, girl. If the Warrior Nun is in Reya's realm, then she is under her jurisdiction."

"Ava is not her property," Beatrice growled, hauling Kristian to his feet.

"Reya is a god."

"She's as much a god as Adriel was."

"If Reya has her within her grasp, I doubt she'll let her go so easily. There is much at play that neither you nor I understand, but understand this," Kristian said, leaning farther into Beatrice's blade, "there is a war coming that has long been foretold and nothing can stop it." He eyed Beatrice. "Not even you."

Beatrice slashed the blade across Kristian's cheek and stood, stifling her anger. With one hand over his bloodied cheek, Kristian sank against the stone wall, cackling.

Beatrice sheathed her dagger behind her back, straightening her black leather jacket. "What's so funny?"

"No one—not Adriel, Reya, or any of the beings who master them—will be able to be stopped once they claim this realm. We are all under their mercy."

"Not no one," Beatrice said softly, her gaze blazing into Kristian's.

"And what can she do to stop Reya?"

"Because she's the Warrior Nun," Beatrice said.

"The halo was Reya's gift to Adriel; it belongs to her."

Beatrice side-kicked Kristian in the face, sending him crashing along the wall. To his immobile figure, she whispered, "And she can pry it from my cold, dead hands because she shall not be getting it from Ava."

Beatrice checked over her shoulder before crossing the street, the red clay-colored buildings warm in the mid-June morning. She didn't stay in one place for too long because she moved with the flow of information. Nothing mattered but getting Ava back. If she was even alive.

She's alive, Beatrice reminded herself. She would know if she wasn't.

She fingered the cross around her neck, which reminded her of the pendant choker she'd gotten Ava for her twentieth birthday in the Alps.

They had only been working at the bar for two days and in Switzerland for three.

They'd returned to the apartment after a rough afternoon of training. Well, rough for Ava. Beatrice had been more than happy to watch her work. At the time she'd been scared to admit the real reason why she enjoyed watching her, but now Beatrice savored those memories. Especially that evening of her birthday.

Ava closed the door to their apartment, stretching her neck and rolling her right shoulder. "God damn, Bea. I think you nearly torn my rotator cuff."

Bea scoffed. "I did no such thing. You just weren't properly warmed up before you insisted on practicing hand drills."

Ava shook her head. "Why did you insist on coming back to the apartment?"

She had insisted, after all. When Beatrice had made the demand, she hadn't thought up a good reason beforehand and consequently agreed to go out to the bar if Ava came back to the apartment after training without too much whining.

Beatrice motioned to the small kitchen. Two different sized boxes lay on the little table, and Bea picked up the smaller one. She handed the box to Ava, which was no bigger than the size of her palm.

"What's this for?"

"For you," Bea said with a nod at the small box. "For your birthday."

Ava blinked and it took a minute before a small smile spread upon her lips. "How did you know?"

"Back when you first came to Cat's Cradle, Mother Superion had read your file." Bea sucked her lips between her teeth. "I'm sorry to say I was a bit curious myself. After talking to you about your time in the orphanage, I realized that you've probably never had a proper birthday." Bea looked at her, dark eyes bright. "I wanted to be able to give you that."

"That's what all that was about today? At the bar?"

Bea nodded. "I've been thinking about this for a while. I wanted to do something for you."

Ava blinked tears away as she opened the small black box. Inside, lay a necklace made of black cord and a round, gold pendant. It was simple, but beautiful. She looked at Bea. "Thank you, Bea."

"I know you're kind of figuring out your own style and everything, so if you don't like it, I won't be offended."

"No," Ava blurted, pulling Bea into a hug. "No, it's wonderful," she whispered. "Thank you so much."

Bea pushed away and motioned to the table where the other box lay unopened. "For you."

Ava cocked her head, another half-smile quirking her lips. "What's in it?"

"Take a look."

Inside, lay a birthday cake. It seemed like a simple vanilla buttercream frosting, but in sage green, Happy 20th Birthday, Ava, was iced in the most precise, elegant cursive.

Ava whipped her head around. "Did you do this?"

Bea nodded, some color blossoming on her cheeks. "I did my best, though writing with icing is more difficult than I thought it."

"How?"

"I came back during my break today. I'd already baked the cake yesterday during my break, so all I had to do was ice it. I cut off a corner of a plastic sandwich bag to use as a makeshift icing bag."

Ava shook her head again. "Thank you." She looked at Bea again and smiled. "Thank you, Bea. You didn't have to do all this."

Bea nodded. "I wanted to. You deserve it. Everyone deserves something on their birthday."

Ava pulled Bea into another hug and squeezed so hard Bea nearly gasped for air. She put the necklace on immediately and beamed at Beatrice. "Well?" she asked, spinning in a circle. "What do you think?"

"Lovely," Bea whispered, a soft smile appearing.

Beatrice struggled to take a breath when Ava's absence hit her like a fist to the gut. She placed a hand against the warm building side and bowed her head. She waited for the tension to pass, but it took longer this time than the last. She focused on the sounds around her—the small market vendors making conversation with their customers, the water in the fountain bubbling, kids playing football down the street, and a guitar player's song ending followed by polite, "merveilleux" and "magnifique."

After several people had walked by her, Beatrice took a full breath, raised her chin, and carried on.

She'd been in Toulouse, France for a few weeks since getting wind of Kristian's appearance in a pub here. Now that his interrogation had proved fruitless though, Beatrice would have to keep moving.

Despite the heat in the sun, Beatrice stuffed her hands in her olive-green pants pockets and strolled down the lively street to her apartment. She tried to think of anything but her—the clear blue sky, the buttery smell of the patisserie, even the way she'd left Kristian bleeding in that alley—but to no avail. Ava consumed her thoughts. Even her own heart beating in her chest belonged to Ava Silva. It had been about seven months since she left Cat's Cradle and Beatrice didn't intend on returning until she found a way to get Ava back.

Beatrice turned her head as shame spread through her. Most days she missed her Sisters—Camila especially. The last time her and Camila spoke had ended in a yelling match. Beatrice had been hurting and she turned that hurt upon her Sister. She could still see the shock and sorrow in Camila's eyes. She hadn't deserved the words she'd shoved at her, but she'd said them anyway. One day when they saw one another again, she would apologize and ask for Camila's forgiveness.

At first, Camila had tried tracking her phone, but Beatrice had quickly ditched the smart phone and opted for a burner. She'd gone completely off-grid from the rest of the Sister Warriors and it would stay that way until she got their Warrior Nun back.

Her Warrior Nun.

Beatrice pushed away the thought. It was selfish. She couldn't act like what she was doing—what she'd been doing for months—wasn't. With the threat of a holy war on the horizon, the world needed the Warrior Nun back in this realm, but Beatrice needed Ava back. Yes, she had selfish motivations, but Ava returning was a means to another end; the salvation of the world.

"If that makes me selfish, then so be it," Beatrice whispered under her breath as she took the wooden side stairs to her second-floor apartment.

Once inside, Beatrice sunk onto the sofa, the golden sun streaming over her. She shrugged off the leather jacket, revealing the black tank top beneath.

Living alone had been difficult at first because the apartment had felt too big for one person. She kept expecting to brush her hand into Ava's back when she turned over in the night, but her fingers always met cool, unruffled linen. She'd had two months of becoming used to her breathing, her weight next to her, even her cold feet that she'd kick Beatrice with and laugh after.

Beatrice sighed and dragged the duffle bag by her feet closer, unzipping the top. She pulled out a gray cap and held it in her hands, rubbing her thumb over the rim. She pressed the cap to her face and inhaled, breathing in Ava's scent; bergamot, white musk, and warm sunshine. Once again, the dam Beatrice had built threatened to crack, so she inhaled sharply and clenched her jaw, swallowing the tears and anger.

She fixed the cap on her head, the back of it resting just above her bun, and stood. Beatrice had been on the move for so long she couldn't sit still, so perhaps tonight she would go out on the town or to the pub and get a drink—anything to keep her mind occupied.

Beatrice pulled on her jacket, touched the rim of the cap, and walked out the door.