**Question:** What's the difference between raising a seventeen-year-old sister in Los Angeles on an entry-level salary and being able to take home a five to seven thousand dollar monthly check from the Hunters Association of America?**Answer:** Twenty essence points.That was the whole game. The magic number. The golden ticket that turned "would you like to supersize that" into "would you like me to kill that goblin for you." Twenty essence points meant One-Star certification. The bottom of the barrel. The absolute floor of what it meant to be a hunter.Rome had somehow gotten twenty-one.One point is what separated him from washing dishes at Denny's or using his looks to become a host to make ends meet.The gate hovered in the middle of Lincoln Park like someone had punched a hole in a painting. Fifteen feet of shimmering blue light, contained behind yellow tape and portable barriers. Association personnel in matching black uniforms stood at the perimeter, looking about as excited

The gate swallowed them whole.One moment, Los Angeles. Sunshine. Food trucks. The distant hum of traffic.The next, darkness.Rome's eyes took a second to adjust. The interior of the gate spread out before them like a cave system someone had carved from nightmares. Stone walls. Uneven ground. Patches of bioluminescent moss that gave off just enough sickly green light to see by. The air tasted stale. Old. Like breathing in a tomb that hadn't been opened in centuries."Kobolds," Reyes said from the front. His spear was already in hand. "Not goblins. Watch your ankles. These little bastards like to go low."*Kobolds. Great.*Rome had fought kobolds twice before. Nasty little things. Looked like someone had crossbred a lizard with a gremlin and given it anger issues. They came up to about waist height on a grown man, but they were fast. Mean. And way smarter than goblins.Goblins rushed you head-on like idiots. Kobolds set traps. Flanked. Went for the tendons.The party moved forward in

Thirty minutes later, Reyes called for a rest in a defensible side chamber. A dead end with good sightlines. Perfect for catching their breath and checking gear.Rome found a spot against the far wall. Slid down. Let his head tip back against stone.His arm was screaming at him now. A dull roar that pulsed with every heartbeat. And that numbness had spread to his fingers. He couldn't quite make a fist anymore.*Not good.**Not good at all.*His breathing came shallow. Quick. Harder to fill his lungs than it should be.*Definitely not good.*"You're pale."Rome opened his eyes.Kiona stood over him. Those sharp eyes of hers moved from his face to the arm he'd tucked against his side. Blood had soaked through his sleeve. It dripped onto the stone beneath him in a slow, steady rhythm."I'm always pale. It's called being indoors too much.""Rome.""I'm fine.""You're sweating.""It's hot in here.""It's a cave. It's literally fifty degrees.""I run warm."Kiona crouched in front of him. H

The corridor went on for what felt like forever.Torches lined the walls. Actual torches. Burning with flames that never flickered or dimmed. The stone beneath their feet was smooth. Too smooth. Like someone had polished it by hand over centuries.This wasn't a natural formation. Someone had built this place.*That's not ominous at all.*The passage opened into a chamber.Rome stopped breathing.Gold.Mountains of it. Coins piled in drifts against the walls. Jewelry scattered across the floor like someone had upended a dragon's hoard. Weapons with gemstone hilts. Armor that gleamed even in the torchlight. Chests overflowing with treasures that sparkled in colors Rome didn't have names for.And surrounding it all, standing in a perfect circle, twelve statues.They towered over the room. Twenty feet tall, maybe more. Carved from black stone that seemed to drink the light. Each one depicted a figure in robes, face hidden beneath a deep hood, hands clasped in front of them. They looked an

No. "Patterson!" Another voice. Frantic. Breaking. "Patterson, wake up! WAKE UP!" The old man was near the wall. Face down. A dark pool spreading beneath him. No no no. Rome forced himself to his feet. His legs shook. His head spun. But he was up. He was alive. He looked around. Reyes was on his knees, bleeding from a gash on his forehead. The spear woman was unconscious but breathing. The newbie kid was crying, actually crying, curled into a ball with his arms over his head. And Kiona. Where's Kiona? "Rome." Her voice. Weak. Close. He spun around. She lay ten feet away. Conscious. Alert. But her leg was bent beneath her at a bad angle, and when she tried to move, her face went white. "Don't." He crossed the distance in three steps. Dropped to his knees beside her. "Don't move. Just stay still." "My leg—" "I know. I see it. Just don't—" "SILENTIUM." The voice boomed from everywhere at once. Rome's head snapped up. A figure stood in one of the archways. Taller than t