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that his first Hunter, Sepia, was currently wanted as fugitive.

The situation had gone from urgent to dire.

Cade needed help; specifically, he needed the help of a weapons master, one who could create what he required without alerting the Order. He had seen something similar to that dark blade that killed Red Jen during his time as a Regional Agent.

It was once, a lifetime ago, when the Unholy were more active outside the Park and Hunters were the front line. Before the Order organized the chaos, Hunters and their gunmen were the first, last and sometimes only line of defense.

Back then, there was only one weapon that could stand against that kind of energy and power; a weapon so feared they stopped making them and banned their use.

He needed a rift gun.

Cade hadn’t seen one in decades. Supposedly they had all been destroyed after the war. They were considered too dangerous for general use, much like the dark blades. He knew Regional—rather than destroy the dark blades, they decided to contain them. The chances of the same thing happening with the rift guns were in his favor.

There was no way he could access the Regional archives or weapons storage, but something he saw while visiting the Gray caught his eye. In the armory with Hep, he thought he had seen one—a rift gun.

Rift guns operated on a simple principle. They harnessed the energy of the rift and weaponized it, creating slugs of energy that could stop almost anything. There were only a few complications with the weapon: it needed to be used close to a rift opening, which were hard to find on the surface these days, and they tended to kill the user.

A large man came into his field of view.

Cade had picked this location because it provided him with a perfect line of sight while keeping him hidden. If his meet wanted to betray him, Cade could see it with enough time to make a hasty retreat without ever being seen.

Hep didn’t exactly blend in—another reason he chose a night meet. The weapons master was the opposite of subtle. Cade looked down at Hep and shook his head with a slight smile.

Hep was by all definitions a bear of a man. He had arrived in his usual outfit: a pair of overalls that strained to contain his large frame. His entire upper body was covered in intricate designs. Some of them resembled Sepia’s own ink. His white hair was drawn back in a ponytail that ran down his back.

Cade adjusted the sight on his rifle and looked down at the large area of green surrounded by buildings. Nestled between Bowery and 2nd Avenue, bordered by East 2nd and 3rd streets, sat the New York Marble Cemetery. Cade rested in one corner of the property perched in one of the large trees that dominated northwest corner.

He had managed to send Hep a message through one of his old contacts in the Gray. Whether or not Hep received the message remained to be seen. He had given Hep specific instructions; most of them were designed to flush out any tails. If Hep had decided to turn on him, Cade would know in a few seconds.

Hep stood in the center of the small cemetery, extended his arms to the sides, and slowly turned. Strapped to his back was a long tube.

“Feeling pretty silly doing this in a cemetery, Cade,” Hep said out loud. “I came alone.”

Cade swept the area again with his sight, confirming what Hep said was true. Still, he waited. A good gunman wouldn’t show his hand until the last possible moment; a great one would be invisible even after putting a bullet in you.

When he was satisfied all avenues of approach were clear, Cade climbed down.

“Thank you for coming,” Cade said, extending a hand. “I appreciate this.”

“You could’ve picked a less morbid place,” Hep said, looking around and shaking Cade’s hand. “Daylight would’ve been nice too.”

“I’m not trying to attract attention,” Cade answered. “This location serves multiple purposes. Did you bring it?”

“This thing doesn’t even work any longer,” Hep said, tapping the tube strapped to his back. “Although to be honest, I haven’t had a chance to test it.”

“Then how do you know it doesn’t work?”

“Basic mechanics,” Hep answered. “No place to insert a magazine. It has a trigger, but no place to insert a round? Seems more like a prop to me.”

Cade nodded and handed Hep the large bag he’d received from Xavier.

“What’s this?” Hep asked, taking the bag. “More presents?”

“That’s something for later, something heavy hitting.”

“More heavy hitting than this thing? Although like I said, it seems more like decoration than weaponry.”

“It would, normally, but these kinds of weapons are special,” Cade answered. “Have you ever heard of rift guns?”

“Yes. Are you saying this is a—?”

“Yes,” Cade answered. “Someone disguised it. Not surprising, but I knew what it was when I first saw it. Not something even a weapons master would recognize.”

“I thought the markings on it were a little off. Gan brought it to the armory. Now I know why.”

“Gan is wily that way; makes sense he would keep a rift gun close. I didn’t think I would need it one day. That was before Velos and Jen.”

“Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”

“I need this gun operational,” Cade said. “The blade that killed Jen is a dark named Hunter blade. I don’t think any of the Hunter blades on the street can stop it, named or not.”

“She was a class-one Hunter,” Hep said, keeping his voice low. “How bad is it?”

“Bad,” Cade said, looking away into his memory of Jen’s last fight. “This Velos dismantled her fighting style in seconds. Knew the Hunter-gunman MO, and blocked my line of sight. I was surrounded by his team in seconds. This was a professional group—a hand of trained Regional Agents.”

“Are you certain?”

“I’m certain,” Cade answered, remembering the group on the roof. “Trained, but arrogant. I think ending them may have pissed Velos off.”

“You finished an entire

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