“Depends. Do you think the dragons will finish freaking out in time for you to get a decent night’s sleep? It’s only eleven-thirty.”

Sarah gave me a withering look. She didn’t say anything aloud, but in my head I heard, Dominic is really worried about you. Me, too, a little bit, but mostly you. I think you should be cautious.

Why?I asked. Do you think he’s going to hand me to the Covenant?

No. But I think there’s a pretty good chance that he’ll drug your drink and you’ll wake up on a Greyhound bus bound for somewhere in the Midwest. He doesn’t want you to get hurt.

On a scale of one to ten . . .

If he’s not playing straight, he’s got shields I can’t break past without a lot of effort. For right now, I’m assuming he’s telling us the truth.

The subject of our furtive mental discussion was looking at us with weary annoyance. “I can tell when you’re discussing me telepathically, you know,” he said. “Despite my never having sought to develop this particular skill, I’ve learned to recognize the signs.”

“We’re educational,” I said blithely. “Sarah’s afraid you’re going to drug me and dump me on a bus to get me out of town.”

“I’ll admit, the thought did cross my—” Dominic stopped and scowled. “I do not appreciate the violation of my privacy.”

“You invited me in,” Sarah countered. “I can’t help what I see while I’m in there. I wasn’t snooping, but the image of getting Verity the hell out of Dodge was pretty prominent in your thoughts.”

“And I’m not in the mood to play the fainting flower and get shipped off,” I said. “We all clear on that point?”

Dominic sighed. “Sadly, yes.”

“Good. Sarah, can you please get to the dragons tonight? Let them know the Covenant is coming, and we don’t know anything more than that, but that they have my word that we’ll do everything we possibly can to keep William safe.” Female dragons are the ultimate pragmatists. William’s wives would be perfectly happy to die if that was what it took for him to survive the purge. I guess that’s one of the perks that comes with being the last known male of your species.

“Just let me email Artie and I’ll head right down.”

“That works. As soon as you’re done at the Nest, I want you to head for the airport and catch the next plane home.” Sarah wouldn’t need a ticket. That was one more bonus of being a cuckoo. She could waltz past security without showing ID, and the airline would mysteriously find her an unclaimed First Class seat.

“No,” said Sarah calmly.

I blinked. “No? What do you mean, no?”

“I mean no. The Covenant isn’t going to find me. You need me, Verity. I’m the ultimate spy. Dominic was thinking it, even though he was trying not to, because he didn’t want to upset you. You need me to stay here and help. I’ll do it, because if I let you get killed, your mother’s going to be somad.” Sarah looked at me calmly. “You can argue if you want, but I’ll just change hotels and not tell you where I am.”

“I hate you sometimes,” I said.

“I know.”

I sighed. “But also I love you. I do appreciate this, Sarah.”

Sarah smiled. “I know that, too.”

“Dominic and I are going back to the Freakshow. I need to tell the staff we’re about to have issues and make sure everyone knows what to do when the Covenant comes to town.”

“Okay.”

“Okay,” I echoed, and moved to hug her before heading toward the door. “Don’t be a hero, Sarah.”

She laughed at that. “I’m the last person in the world you need to worry about there. I’ll call if I hear anything.”

The convenient thing about having a telepath in the family: she never runs out of batteries, and she doesn’t depend on the cell towers for service. “Gotcha. Good luck down there.”

“Miss Zellaby,” said Dominic, with a small nod. Then he turned, and followed me to the door, out to the hall, and into the elevator.

“That went surprisingly well,” I said.

“Yes,” he agreed blandly. “Now let’s go figure out what can go surprisingly poorly.”

“Don’t worry,” I said, as the elevator doors closed. “I’m sure we can find something.”

The Freakshow, a highly specialized nightclub somewhere in Manhattan

“SO THIS IS WHAT the street-level entrance looks like these days,” I said, as Dominic and I approached the front door of the Freakshow.

It was painted to look like the mouth of a tent, with old-fashioned “carnival posters” pasted to the wall all around the ticket booth. I recognized myself in the middle of a cancan lineup, one painted leg eternally cocked at a come-hither angle that I hoped never to have to explain to my father. Sometimes I think the dangers of my mundane career outweigh the dangers of the career that’s more likely to get me actually killed. Vivisection hurts, but it can’t hold a candle to parental disapproval.

Dominic followed my gaze to the poster in question, quirking an eyebrow before he said, “Surely this can’t be the first time you’ve approached from the ground.”

“I hate taxis, subways freak me right the hell out, I don’t have a car, and no one who isn’t a bike messenger, certifiable, or both tries to ride a bike in Manhattan.” I shrugged. “I stick to the rooftops. It’s worked out pretty well for me so far.”

“You mean you haven’t reduced yourself to a street pancake due to a misjudged leap.”

“That’s what I said, isn’t it? It’s worked out pretty well so far.” I flashed my ID at the girl in the ticket booth, another dragon I didn’t recognize. She looked up from filing her nails only long enough to confirm that I didn’t need to pay admission—and that, by extension, Dominic didn’t either—before rolling her eyes in disgust and pointing toward the door.

“One day you will have to tell me where you acquired this aversion to walking on solid ground,” said Dominic.

“Try having a baby sister whose idea of a good time involves pit traps and land mines,” I advised. The bouncer on duty opened the club door for us, and I smiled at him as we walked on through. “It’s amazing how fast that sort of thing will make you think it’s time for a return to the trees.”

The entry hall was decorated to match the door: green canvas tent fabric draped with strings of Christmas lights and little triangular banners obscured the walls and ceiling, making it seem like we were heading into the big top. Even the floor was covered in a layer of sweet-scented sawdust, reinforcing the carnival theme. I had to admire it as a cost-cutting measure. The cedar shavings were probably saving Kitty a fortune in air fresheners, and she could buy them from the Abatwa who lived under Broadway, which would save her even more. If you need a corner cut, talk to a bogeyman.

Ryan was on duty at the interior door, less to check the work of the first two gatekeepers and more to make it clear to any drunk businessmen looking for a little grab-ass that we were a respectable establishment that would kick your nuts into your nasal cavity if you so much as looked at one of the girls wrong. He blinked when he saw me come walking down the hall. He blinked again when he saw Dominic walking behind me.

“Verity?” he said, an uncertain note in his voice. “You’re on the ground. Are you okay?” His eyes flicked to my feet, not-too-subtly checking for a limp.

Dominic snorted. “You really were serious.” He stepped up next to me, offering Ryan a nod. “Hello again.”

“Twice in one night,” Ryan said, with a nod of his own. “You’re becoming a bad habit, De Luca. Very? Is this guy bothering you?” From his tone, he was hoping I’d say yes, giving him the excuse he wanted to kick Dominic’s ass.