Alex peered around the corner, feeling his wet clothes sticking to his back and riding up in places they had no right to be riding up in. “I can’t see anyone. Doesn’t mean they’re not about,” he whispered.

“Close,” she agreed, slipping past him, her form clearly outlined in her damp dress. “And you shouldn’t be looking.”

“A man who’s about to die should have some pleasures in the short remainder of his life.”

“Not going to die.” River’s voice was barely above a breath. “As long as you stay quiet.” She seemed to glide on silent feet, already bringing one of her guns up as the door opened along the corridor.

A man stepped out. “What the –“ He drew, very fast.

There was a pop, barely loud enough to register, but he fell back, his weapon dropping from nerveless fingers.

“This way,” River said, moving forward and delicately avoiding the spreading pool of blood, a drift of smoke meandering from the silencer.

Alex stepped over the body of the guard, and he had to swallow hard not to throw up. “Right.”

“It’s just a body,” she pointed out.

“I ... I know.” A body without a face , his treacherous inner voice added.

“He’d killed so many.”

Alex looked up in surprise. “You know that?”

She nodded, not taking her gaze off the corridor in front. “Niska surrounds himself with such men. They kill without thought, without hesitation or remorse.” Now she looked at him, her dark eyes unreadable. “And they enjoy it.”

He shuddered, then took a deep breath. “Then we’d better go get my sister and her husband, hadn’t we?”

A smile ghosted across her lips. “You know, we’re related.” She moved off.

“What?” He hurried to catch up.

“Freya is my mother. So you must be my uncle.”

“She’s your ... what?”

“In spiritual terms.”

He looked at the young woman at his side, and realised she wasn’t joking. “Then ...” he began slowly, “maybe I am. And I'm proud to be.”

The smile widened into brilliance and she was about to speak, but it froze on her face.

“What –“