Cyrus’s room, inaudible to anyone but a beast with ears that could catch the flutter of fear in a heartbeat at a hundred paces.

“Not for some days.”

Dane stopped dead on the stairs for a moment, his mind caught on the words. And then the beast in

him shook off all concern about tomorrow. All that mattered was now. He dug under his layers of ragged

clothing and pulled out a chain with several keys on it, picking the one for the sleek, black Cadillac he

would be driving tonight.

It was snowing heavily when Dane got to DC, white clots that spattered on the windshield and clung

and melted into a slurry of half-frozen water. The wipers scraped and flung the slush aside, but it was still a miserable drive. The car was stuffy, even with the vents open and the windows cracked. The air was full of

exhaust and rust and rubber and oil, a thick smear of civilization over Dane’s delicate senses.

The cell phone rang and Dane flipped it open. “What is it, Viv?” No one else called him.

“I’m on my way to the scene,” she said. He could hear the breathlessness in her voice, the hum of her

car. “I’ve been speaking to my people. I still can’t say what’s happened, but they’re treating it like a

biological terrorist attack, which works for us.”

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The place would be crawling with Army and Homeland Security. Dane growled as a transport truck

passed, sluicing the car in a wave of slush and muck. “Explain.”

“They’ve quarantined all of Walter Reed. They won’t know what they’ve lost for hours. You can find

it before then. I think I know what you’re looking for.” Now, Dane could hear sirens. She must have been

getting closer to the Institute of Pathology.

“What is it, then?”

“Moore is a hack, but she can rate power.” Vivian’s fingernails chittered on a keyboard. She was

using a computer or something like it while driving again. Dane and Cyrus had never taken to technology

the way Vivian had. “I’ll give her that. The only inmate she has who could have that wide a sphere of

influence is a kid named Carrington. This is a big deal, Dane.”

“Carrington.” Dane didn’t care much about these things, usually, but he recognized the name. “Isn’t

he a general or something?”

“Spokesman for the armed forces, among other things,” Vivian said. “You remember. That’s good.

Mother’s a socialite from some cereal-empire family. It made the news when they had him committed

about two years ago.”

“Cereal empire. I hate this country.” Dane shook his head and picked up the pace as the rest of the

traffic was wisely slowing in the storm.

“Yeah, one of those poor-little-rich-boy stories. I feel bad for the kid. Or, man. He’d be nineteen now.

Dane, they cannot afford to lose him. They’ll kill him first.” Vivian paused, the sound of her car engine died, and there was another voice.

“I’m sorry, ma’am, this is a restricted…”

“I have clearance.”

“Go ahead, but stay clear of the red zone. We’re still testing for biologicals.”

Vivian’s engine murmured to life. “Sorry, Dane. I was saying…”

“They’ll kill him before they let him go, if they don’t simply kill him outright. I hear you. I’ll get

him.” Dane wasn’t concerned about the soldiers and agents crawling around the building or the

neighborhood. “Cyrus said he got out. I’ll find him.”

“The girl may be here.” Vivian’s voice was low and Dane felt his muscles twitch involuntarily. He

hated mind mages.

“Did she bring the dog?” he growled.

“I can’t imagine she wouldn’t. They need to find this kid, Dane. This isn’t just humans playing here.”

Dane could hear the undercurrent of loathing in her voice that echoed the feeling under his skin. “Be

careful.”

“I will be.” The idea that he could get the drop on his old enemy left Dane smiling.

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13

Anah Crow and Dianne Fox

“Pay attention.” Vivian’s voice stung his ear. “Dane. The boy, and nothing more. You can play with

Jonas another day.”

“I can focus,” Dane rumbled.

“You have about four hours until they finish processing the building.” Vivian’s tone softened slightly.

“Be quick, but be careful. You’re not immortal, you know.”

“People keep reminding me.” Dane snorted with irritation. “I’ll be fine. I’ll call you when I have

him.”

“Good luck,” she said, and he could hear her smiling.

“I don’t need luck,” he snapped. “You know that.” She was laughing at him when he hung up the

phone. Now he could pay attention to driving hard, to get there soon. The dog and the girl had a head start, but Dane was older and wiser. He was looking forward to this.

He parked, badly, several floors up in a garage next to a mall. He took note of the numbers painted on

the wall as he slipped over the railing and dropped into the dark of the loading docks. There was a crackle and splash as he broke through a thin crust of ice and landed up to his ankles in water. Moving too fast to get wet, like a cat, he was gone before the water could wash in over his boots.

Dane glided through the streets and alleys of the capital like a revenant, his long, dark coat swirling

around him with the wind. Crouched in the doorway of a shuttered shop to let a police car pass, he

murmured, “I’m here.”

Dane had no idea if Cyrus was still awake, but if he was, the wind would take him the message. The

air was mad with tension and anxiety. Even if he hadn’t been forewarned, he would have been wary

tonight. Closing his eyes, he breathed and let the world speak to him.

The wet, snowy night couldn’t muffle the footfalls and muttered voices, the growl of engines and the

crackle of radios, and the scents of hunters and hunted. Dane’s eyes flew open, staring into the distance far beyond the opposite wall, focused on nothing, and he growled low. He flicked his tongue against the cold

air, tasting.

He dropped to all fours, moving in his strange, rolling, animal gait, his heavy head swinging as he

sought out the strands of scent that beckoned the beast. Instinct kept him hidden, kept him in the shadows

while his mind was consumed with the hunt. The urgency was here and now, the same as that which drove

Cyrus. Dane entered the moment of it and it drove him, too.

The scent of suffering and fear grew heavier as Dane hunted. The wind was with him, dipping into

some distant alley and bringing him what it found there, drawing him along narrow streets. When he was

near, when he could taste iron on the back of his tongue along with the sweat and fear of something dying

alone, he scaled the side of a darkened building and cruised the rooftops.

The gap between roofs, where Dane stopped to peer down like a gargoyle, was only a few yards

across. Almost no light fell between the buildings, but it was enough for Dane’s feral sight to make out the 14

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blocky shapes of dumpsters and the snow-tufted trash pushed into haphazard heaps. He tensed, leaning

forward to make the leap into the dark, when the wind shifted. Instead of leaping, he moved out of sight,

grinning like a demon. The wind had been in his face all this time. He hoped it had kept him hidden.

Dane could hear the heavy, booted footfalls of a man keeping an almost lazy pace down in the alley.

The sound stopped and the man inhaled. It was all Dane could do to stay still. Jonas. The thrill in his veins was like fire, like lightning, and he licked at his long teeth in anticipation. One more step, and another, and another—every one brought the man deeper into the alley. The real prize was all but forgotten. That