“I was at the Nest until almost five-thirty,” she said, and yawned again. “Besides, it’s not like I’m actually enrolled in any of my classes. Nobody’s going to notice if I don’t show up.”

“Fair,” I allowed. Sarah probably had the equivalent of three math degrees, but she didn’t have anything on paper. Her natural camouflage meant she could show up for any class and be accepted as someone who belonged—and yet she’d never enrolled in a single college course. She hadn’t even gone to a public high school, since being a telepath in a building full of confused teenagers trying to figure out what to do with their hormones was something she and Grandma Angela both regarded as just this side of hell. Actual Hell, I mean, where the border imps live, and those bastards can strip the meat off a cow faster than a swarm of horror movie piranha.

“The dragons were pretty calm,” said Sarah, still audibly waking up. “I mean, for dragons. Bill breathed fire on the girls when they got rowdy, and that settled them right down.”

Male dragons breathe fire; female dragons are fireproof. Evolution works in mysterious ways. “What are they going to do?”

“Circle the wagons and stay underground until we give them the all clear. Even if they could move Bill, they can’t shift the eggs.” Sarah paused. When she spoke again, she sounded sharper—good. I needed her sharp. “Verity, why are you calling me? Shouldn’t you be off saving the world or something? Or at least sleeping?”

“I need a favor.”

“You always need a favor.”

“I need a favor from Artie.”

I could practically hear Sarah’s double take. “You need a what?”

“I need you to call Artie and get him to trace a rental car for me.”

“Uh . . . Verity, I don’t know who you’ve been talking to, but real life doesn’t work like television. You can’t just say ‘trace a rental car in Manhattan’ and have your helpful neighborhood computer guy find you a name and address before the next commercial break. Remember? We went over this when you wanted us to trace Antimony via her cell phone GPS. Please stop taking your technology tips from Criminal Minds.”

I ignored her. “The car is a black Crown Victoria, looked like either a 2006 or a 2007, rented to Dominic De Luca. He’ll have been using a foreign ID, but the card he used will have a billing address somewhere in Manhattan.”

Silence greeted this statement.

I kept going: “The Covenant called him this morning while we were at my apartment. I watched him make the pickup. There are three of them, two male and one female. I didn’t get a good look at their faces, but one of the men was pretty obviously in charge.”

More silence.

“I don’t know when the next time Dominic is going to be able to get away from them will be. He made sure I was there to see the pickup. They didn’t see me.”

“Very . . .” Sarah took a breath. “If you’re that sure he’ll be easy to find, why didn’t he give you an address? It would have been easier.”

“Because he’s still trying to figure out who he’s going to betray—me, or the Covenant.” I shook my head, not caring that she couldn’t see the gesture. “I honestly don’t know which way he’s going to go, either. Maybe he’ll turn his back on the only life he’s ever known. Maybe he’ll sell me out. I guess we’ll find out sooner or later.”

“If you really think there’s a chance that he might turn you in, you need to get out of there. We don’t know if the Covenant taught him to hide things from telepaths.” Sarah sounded alarmed, and rightfully so. “You can come stay with me. Bring the mice, we’ll make it a slumber party.”

“And when Dominic decides I’m the next one on the ‘betray me now’ list and comes looking for me? I can’t disappear completely, Sarah. If they start looking for me, they’ll find me, and they’ll follow me straight to you.” More silence from her end of the phone. I sighed. “Yeah, I thought so. Look, Sarah, there’s no good answer here. I wish there was one. Just call Artie for me, okay?”

“What do you want me to tell him? I’m not going to be the one to say, ‘Oh, hey, the Covenant’s throwing a purge on the island of Manhattan and me and Verity are both invited.’ I’m just not.”

“Tell him I need to know, and that I’ll explain later.” If I’d called Artie myself, I would have been explaining now, because otherwise he would never have done it. If the request came from Sarah, he’d go ahead, minimal questions asked. And then the two of them wonder why the rest of the family is betting on when they’ll just go ahead and start dating already.

“Verity . . .”

“I’m not leaving New York while the Covenant’s here, and you’re not leaving while I’m here, so will you just call Artie? Please, for me?”

Sarah sighed. “Okay. I’ll call him. But I’m really not sure this is the way to go about things.”

“I’ll tell you what: if you come up with any better ideas, you be sure and let me know.” I hung up before she could say anything else, and sank down against the roof, briefly closing my eyes. This was one hell of a mess, and it was going to get a lot worse before it got any better.

I stomped up the stairs to my apartment, taking my frustrations out on the poor, innocent banister, which had never done anything bad to anyone. None of my neighbors poked their heads out to see what the ruckus was about. Most of them probably had respectable jobs that kept them away from home during the day. That just served to make me grumpier. New York was about to be a battleground, and the rest of my building wasn’t even going to notice unless the Covenant decided to firebomb me while I slept.

Somehow, that particular thought didn’t do anything to help. I dug my keys out of my pocket, grumbling as I jabbed them into the lock—

—and froze as the doorknob shifted under my hand. The door wasn’t locked. But the door had beenlocked when I left the apartment. I’d locked it from the inside, and I’d left via the kitchen window, like I normally did.

Moving carefully now, I slipped my keys back into my pocket and pulled the pistol from the back of my pants. I pressed myself to the side of the door, reached over, and twisted the knob, shoving the door open in the same gesture. It banged against the wall, and I spun into the doorway, pistol in front of me in a shooter’s stance.

There was a tall, neatly-groomed man standing in my hall with an automatic crossbow in his hands. It was loaded, and aimed at my stomach. He raised an eyebrow questioningly. “Is that how you say hello now?” he asked.

“Uncle Mike!” I didn’t lower my pistol. “What’s the password?”

“There is no password,” he replied. “If you need a password, you’re probably already dead, and that makes it a moot point. Now get in here before you scare the neighbors.”

I beamed, clicking the safety on my pistol into place before replacing it in its holster and stepping through the open door. The mice—who had been obeying my edict never to let themselves be seen from the hall, and were consequentially plastered against the wall just inside—cheered loudly. “What are you doinghere?” I asked, while I closed and locked the door. I sniffed the air. “Is that pot roast?”

Uncle Mike just looked at me, eyebrow still raised.

Oh, right. “Before you scare the neighbors” was the first half of the family passcode. “I mean, the neighbors don’t scare easy,” I said. “I’m pretty sure they’ve seen it all before.”

“Your father called me and said you needed backup,” he said, finally lowering his crossbow. “And yes, it’s pot roast. I figured you’d be going largely nocturnal for the duration of the shit that’s about to hit the fan, and there’s no such thing as too much readily available protein.”

“Hail!” chorused the mice. “Hail the High Priest of Goddammit Eat Something Already!”

I grinned. “See, I almost didn’t need to get a passcode from you. The pot roast would have been effective proof of identity.”