Yasmine gaped wide-eyed as she looked between Camila and an unconscious Beatrice. She opened and closed her mouth several times before words appeared. "Are you positive you didn't kill her?"

Camila groaned and leaned her forehead on Beatrice's torso. "I'm so sorry, Bea," she whispered.

"But hey, on the bright side, we found Beatrice," Yasmine said, a doubtful smile on her face. She glanced up at the black night sky. "What are the chances?"

Camila sat up and back on her heels. "What are the chances we don't know where in the world Beatrice is, we come to Toulouse, she just happens to be crossing the same street I'm driving down, I don't see her or recognize her, and I HIT HER WITH THE VAN?" She barked a humorless laugh. "I don't know, Yasmine, what are the chances?"

"For us? Not great, unfortunately."

Camila took one of Beatrice's arms, draped it over the back of her neck, and motioned to Yasmine with her chin. "Help me get her up."

Struggling only a little, both girls managed to get Beatrice off the street and into the back of the van. Thankfully, there was enough strength between the two of them to stop Beatrice from dropping unceremoniously out of their grasp.

Once inside, Camila moved the van from the middle of the thankfully deserted street and to an open space near the bridge. Only after she parked did Camila take a moment to breathe. Deep inhales and exhales helped her focus her mind and slow her heartrate. She opened her eyes and climbed out of the driver's seat into the back of the van.

Yasmine had a hand on Beatrice's shoulder. "I think she's waking."

Camila knelt and removed Beatrice's cap—no, she realized with a start—Ava's cap. It was the gray one she wore when they first reunited in Madrid at the cinema.

Camila held the cap to her chest, hands trembling at the thought of their missing friend. Their Warrior Nun.

She glanced at Beatrice through tear-blurred eyes. She didn't even care their last conversation had been a yelling match. She was so happy to see her.

Even if she had just hit her with the van.

A breath of air passed between Beatrice's lips. Then she inhaled, eyes fluttering open. She seemed to scan the faces in front of her, confusion thick in her gaze.

Camila gave a timid grin. "Hi, Bea."

Beatrice exhaled, and it was then that Camila smelled the alcohol on her breath. Strong alcohol—most likely a liquor of some sort. Now that she'd noticed it, it was hard not to ignore the stench. It was everywhere. The entire van smelled like a mix of fermentation and blood.

Blood, Camila realized. She scanned Beatrice's body for the source of the metallic odor. She lifted Beatrice's left arm and Bea winced.

Her Sister stared at her as though she weren't real. "Camila?"

Camila cleared her throat. "It's me. I'm here." She clasped the sides of Bea's face. "You were drinking?"

"For goodness' sake," Bea mumbled and shoved Camila's hands off. "I don't need mothered, Camila."

"I missed you, too," she mumbled.

Yasmine bent down to study the opposite side of Beatrice's head. "You may not need mothered, Sister Beatrice, but you do need medical attention.' She brought her hand down. Blood gleamed along her fingers. She glanced at Camila. "We don't know the extent of her injuries. This is just what I'm able to see."

Beatrice shoved both of them away and struggled to get up. Breathing hard, she managed to her feet, swaying only slightly. She shot Camila a dazed look before her legs gave out and she collapsed into her Sister's arms.

"Beatrice!" Camila gasped, barely pulling Yasmine's open arm over to help her catch Beatrice as she tumbled forward. "Beatrice, just stay put. You were in an accident."

Yasmine cocked her head. "What do you mean? You hit—"

"It was an accident," she hissed, glaring daggers at Yasmine. Shut up, she tried to convey.

Yasmine sucked her lips between her teeth. Sorry.

Beatrice grimaced, but when she looked back up, her eyes were clearer. "I don't think any serious damage was done." She squirmed. "I think my shoulder may be dislocated and my wrist might be broken. It's the only part of me I can't move."

"The left side of your body must have taken the brunt of the hit," Camila murmured. "But a head wound isn't something to scoff at." She felt around Bea's head for the gash. "The bleeding hasn't stopped."

"I have an apartment," Beatrice said softly, eyes drooping shut. "It's just down the street."

"Do you have any medical supplies there?"

Bea nodded. "Enough to stop my head from bleeding, anyway."

Camila glanced again at the cut, and to her dismay, a trail of blood had now gone down the length of Beatrice's neck and soaked her undershirt and jacket. She met Yasmine's concerned gaze. "All right. You need to stay awake long enough to get us there, Bea."

She nodded again, though her eyes remained closed. "I—I can walk by myself. I think I just need assistance to make sure I don't pass out."

Careful not to antagonize Beatrice's left side at all, Camila pulled her Sister's right arm across her shoulders, and with Yasmine's help to clear the way, they set out for Beatrice's little apartment. Beatrice's legs were wobbly, but she did manage to walk the entire way with Camila's body for stability.

Beatrice cracked her eyes open, pointed to the second-floor door and mumbled, "Up there."

Camila groaned. Dragging Beatrice up a flight of stairs would not be easy. She adjusted her grip and rolled her shoulders. "Let's go, then."

Though it was slow and both Camila and Beatrice were panting by the time they got to the top, neither tripped nor stumbled once.

Yasmine went ahead and opened the door, ushering the other two inside.

Camila headed straight for the bed to put her down, but Beatrice pulled against her hard enough to halt them. "No. If you get blood on my bed, Camila, I will aikido you into submission."

"You can barely stand."

Beatrice stared at her. "Try me."

"Okay," Camila muttered, turning back around to the couch. She lowered Beatrice and then said, "Take your jacket off."

Nose scrunched and panting slightly, Beatrice wriggled her right arm out of the leather jacket and then hung her immobile left arm over the edge of the couch to slide that sleeve off and free herself. She rested her elbow on the top of her thigh, breathing silently for a moment.

Camila noted the drops of blood that hit the wooden floorboards, but before she could scold Beatrice again, the latter sat up and stared at her. "Let's get this over with."

Camila sat next to her Sister and studied the suspected dislocation. The van hitting Beatrice had caused a forward dislocation of her left shoulder. She'd need something to stabilize Bea's arm—

Yasmine brought over a dish towel, wrapped it under the affected arm, and pulled tight.

"You read my mind," Camila said as she situated herself.

"We certainly don't want her shoulder going anywhere but back in the socket."

Camila clasped her hands around Beatrice, one on the front of her shoulder and one bracing in the back. She glanced at Bea. "Ready?'

A curt nod was her only response.

"All right. On three." She took a breath. "One—"

Camila slid Beatrice's shoulder joint back into the socket before her Sister could hopefully register the slight betrayal.

"Shit," Beatrice hissed, shaking her head as if that would throw off the pain.

"There," Camila said, removing the towel. "All done with that part." She stood and then pushed Beatrice's head with a finger.

"What—"

"Mind your mouth."

Beatrice rolled her shoulder along with her eyes. "And what did I say about mothering?"

The younger Sister folded her arms, head tilted. "I'm not mothering you, Beatrice. I'm looking out for you like friends do. Like Sisters do."

Beatrice grasped her quickly bruising and swollen wrist and hung her head. After a moment, she whispered, "I haven't been a Sister in months."

Camila retrieved an ice pack, handed it to Bea and then sat next to her once more. Yasmine lowered herself on the other side of Beatrice.

"Just because you are not at home does not make you our Sister any less."

Bea chewed on her lip. "I don't mean being a Sister at Cat's Cradle." She inhaled as though she'd expand, but instead, Beatrice stood shakily.

Camila extended a hand, but Beatrice had found her balance.

Yasmine also stood. She pointed at Bea's wrist. "That needs x-rays."

Beatrice closed her eyes, throat bobbing. "There's an emergency walk-in clinic not far from here and being seen only costs twenty-four Euros."

"How do you know that?" Camila inquired.

Bea opened her eyes and glanced at Camila, shadows in her gaze.

Before she could answer, Yasmine said, "I have a feeling this situation isn't anything new for her." She glanced sidelong at Camila, worry in her expression.

Camila sighed. "Beatrice—"

"Don't look at me like that, Camila."

"And don't talk to me like I'm a child." Camila stood at last, joining the other two in the small kitchen space. "Since you left, I've taken on responsibilities. Your responsibilities. I've had months of training, and I've trained dozens of new Sister Warriors. Just because you left doesn't mean the rest of the world stopped in your absence. The world is still turning, we are still doing everything in our power to ready for this impending war, and Ava is still gone." Beatrice opened her mouth, but Camila raised a hand. "I know you think you're doing what you must to find her. Trust me. I get it. That's why Yasmine and I are here. We're chasing a lead. However, just because our way is different than yours does not mean we care any less or are not trying as hard. She is our Warrior Nun. We all want her back. We all love her."

Four words, no more than a breath of air, escaped Beatrice's lips. "Not like I do."

Yasmine had told her about that moment—the tender goodbye between Ava and Beatrice. The kiss. She'd known about it for a while. Beatrice's feelings for Ava, that is. Had told Beatrice as much. Yet Camila couldn't really understand whatever Bea was feeling because she'd never been in love. Not romantically, anyway.

She took a breath. "You have a more intimate connection with Ava, yes, but we have resources."

"You have a code," Bea murmured. "I'm doing what I must."

"And how far have you gotten?" Silence.

"Come with us," Yasmine said.

Camila nodded. "We could always use our Sister."

Bea brushed past them both, aiming for the door. "Like I said, I haven't been a Sister in months." She closed the door behind her, leaving Camila and Yasmine alone in the apartment.

"So," Yasmine ventured, "is that a yes?"

...

After getting x-rays which revealed two fractures in the left radius and one in the ulna, Beatrice's wrist was casted.

Yasmine had opted to wait outside in the van, so while they waited for discharge papers, Camila broke the silence. "How are you doing, Bea?"

Bea fiddled with the fresh cast. "I'm fine, Camila."

"No, you're not."

Bea huffed. "Then why ask?"

"Because I know you're not fine, but I want to know how you're doing."

A short silence followed. Then, "I'm angry. I'm angry I couldn't do anything. I'm angry I still can't do anything. I'm angry it came to what it did in the first place. I'm angry she's gone and I'm even more angry at the fact we don't even know if she's alive after all this time. I'm angry at the fact that no matter how long I've trained, how hard I've fought, it makes absolutely no difference." She looked at Camila, subdued fury in her eyes. "I'm angry and I can't do anything with this feeling except let it fuel me or drown in it."

"How's that going for you?"

Beatrice loosed a dull chuckle. "I'm staying afloat."

Camila could sense that unspoken word at the end: Barely. "Is that why you drink?"

"Lots of people drink."

"You don't."

Beatrice shrugged. "You don't know anything about the person I am now."

Camila gave her a sad smile. "I'd like to."

Though she didn't reply, Bea's expression softened. After a moment of uneasy silence, she said, "What are you two doing here? You said something about a lead."

A yawn interrupted Camila's next words. She waved a hand. "An explanation can wait until tomorrow. We need to get out of here and get some sleep first."

Bea looked like she wanted to argue, but she merely nodded.

"It's more of a hail Mary than a plan, but it's the best we've got."

Her eyes widened. "I'm only slightly worried now."

Camila winced. "And it may involve stealing—borrowing—one of the world's most valuable artifacts."

Beatrice waved a hand and stood, shaking her head. "You're right. I don't want to know yet."

...

Ava woke to a dark room, the only light source the halo in her back, which cast a warm orange glow a few feet around her. She realized she was kneeling on cold marble, both hands chained and pulled taut on either side of her. The length of chain disappeared into darkness, so there was no telling how big the space was. A faint blue illumination caught Ava's eye and her stomach sank. The chains were infused with divinium, so she couldn't phase through them.

Well, shit. This is not good.

She allowed her eyes to adjust and then tried to peer through the crushing dark, yet she could see nothing. It was as if only emptiness lay beyond the reaches of her light.

Where the hell am I?

As if to answer her thoughts, a pale finger lifted Ava's chin.

"Reya," she ground out, panic beginning to set in.

The deity stared at her, those stunning eyes more like polished ceramic than irises—pretty but cold and lifeless. "My halo is a gift, a privilege, and privileges can be revoked."

Dread lanced through her. "What?"

Reya stood, looming over Ava.

"No." Ava yanked at the chains, throwing her entire weight against them, but they were unnaturally strong. "No, wait."

A set of icy hands seemed to press into Ava's back, dematerializing through her clothes and skin.

"WAIT," she pleaded. "NO."

And then Ava felt Reya's fingers wrap around the halo, and searing pain erupted through her. It was as if she had Ava's heart in her hand and was trying to pull it out through her chest.

"DON'T!" Ava cried as her body locked up. She couldn't move despite the burning of melting flesh as Reya attempted to release the halo.

The first tug pulled Ava's head back, baring her throat to the ceiling.

The second tug disabled her ability to breathe and her lungs became hollow organs that left her gasping for any bit of air.

The third tug wrenched a scream from her lips that echoed tenfold in the room.

Ava lost all grip on the world and that suffocating darkness pressed in as the light of her halo went out.