“I know what you are,” I protested. “I’ve always known.”

“You don’t look at me like that, Verity. You’ve neverlooked at me like that.”

I sighed. “Okay, fair. Look, you don’t have to stay here. You can go and stay with the dragons down in the sewers. You know William would be happy to have you.”

Sarah shook her head. “I can’t. Even if I was comfortable leaving you alone, which I’m not—”

“You don’t have to stay for my sake. I can take care of myself.”

“I don’t care if you think you can take care of yourself. I’m notleaving you,” Sarah repeated, more firmly. “But even if I was, there’s no Internet or cell service in the Nest. The dragons don’t consider it a priority. All their calls are made on an old landline the city put in for the municipal workers, and they’d slit their wrists before they paid for smart phones. If I drop off the grid like that, Artie will be on the next plane out of Portland, and I’m not going to be the reason he puts himself in danger. I can’t.”

“Right.” I sighed, rubbing the back of my neck with one hand. One day, those two are going to admit that they’re in love with each other. Until then, we’re all going to stay stuck in the middle of their not-a-relationship. “Well, then, I guess we’re all just going to have to cope.”

“Yeah,” agreed Sarah miserably. “We are.”

I got Sarah settled back in her room-slash-office, largely by promising to pick up some tomato juice the next time I had to go out of the Nest. Which was going to be soon; my feet were already starting to itch with the need to go, to run, to move. I’d been sitting still for hours—and being in the car while Uncle Mike drove us around New York didn’t count. It just made me feel even less like I was in control of the situation. Holing up and laying low might be the smart thing to do, but doing the smart thing has never been a Price family tradition. We’re more interested in running straight into the jaws of danger and daring it to bite down.

(There might be more of us among the living if danger weren’t so very willing to take us at our word and bite. That doesn’t change the fact that somebody has to do the job we do, and we’re uniquely qualified for it. We’ve been breeding to die this way for generations.)

The mice were still enjoying their celebration—or maybe they’d started a new one; it can be hard to tell with them. I peeked through the office window long enough to reassure myself that they weren’t about to set the place on fire or anything. Then I started moving again, heading for my own makeshift bedroom. I needed to know what was going on out in my city, and that meant I needed to be out, not dealing with evacuating the resident cryptids or getting my relatives out of the line of fire.

First things first: I stripped off the clothes I’d been wearing to go see Sarah and changed into my usual night-running gear: a skintight gray bodysuit that would render me virtually invisible in the shadows, a belt that always made me feel a little bit like Batman, since he’s sort of the platonic ideal of “person running around in spandex with their weapons around their waist,” and a cotton hoodie only slightly darker than the bodysuit. With the hood pulled up to hide my hair and face, I could disappear on the rooftops, becoming part of the scenery.

Combat boots and a backpack full of ammo, replacement knives, and climbing gear completed my preparations. I was loaded for bear—literally—and if I was lucky, that would translate into being loaded for Healy. If I was really lucky, the question would never come up.

I went thumping back down the stairs to the ground floor of the slaughterhouse. There was no one there. I took that to mean that they were still where I’d left them and walked toward the kitchen, using the stroll as an excuse to test the weight of my backpack. It was a little heavier than I would have liked, but it was perfectly balanced, and in the end, that mattered more than a few extra pounds. It’s not how much you’re carrying; it’s what you do with it. And I was planning on unleashing a world of hurt on anyone who got in my way.

“Uncle Mike?” I stuck my head into the kitchen. Sunil and Rochak were at the stove, frying something that smelled like taffy while Istas looked on appreciatively. Uncle Mike was sitting at one of the card tables, sharpening his knives. From the assortment he had spread out in front of him, he’d been at it since he left me alone with Sarah, and was planning to be at it for quite a while longer.

“What is it, Very?” he asked, looking up. “Everything okay with Sarah?”

Sunil and Rochak stiffened at the question. Wow, I could already tell that we were entering a new era of fun times here in our hidey-hole. Good thing I was planning to get the hell out for a little while.

“She’s miserable, but she’ll cope,” I said, as casually as I could. “I guess being judged by her species makes her unhappy.”

“I am very sorry,” said Sunil, in a soft voice. “It was instinctive.”

I paused and took a breath before saying, “Just try to keep it cool until all this is over, please? My whole family vouches for Sarah. She’s one of us. And just like everyone else here, she’s stressed enough not to need an extra dose of feeling terrible about herself. She didn’t choose her species.” Any more than I chose to be born a Price, or Dominic chose to be born into the Covenant. We were all of us dealing with the hands we were dealt.

“We will treat her with as much kindness and respect as she treats us,” said Rochak.

“I can’t ask you for more than that.” I turned back to Uncle Mike. “Can you please help Sarah finish getting us on the Internet? I’d feel better if I could check my email, and Sarah’s a lot less likely to freak out if she can chat with Artie.”

“I’m on it.” Mike stood, leaving his knives on the table. “Heading out?”

I smiled a little. “What was your first clue?”

“Call it intuition. You’ll be careful out there?”

“As careful as I can be.”

“I don’t like this.”

“You don’t have to.” I needed to move, or I was going to scream. “Keep an eye on things here. If anything goes wrong . . .”

“I’m here to make sure nothing goes wrong,” said Mike implacably. His tone was flat, the verbal equivalent of a brick wall suddenly appearing in my path. “Call if you need help, or if you’re going out of cell range for more than a few minutes. I want to be able to reach you if anything comes up here.”

“Deal. Istas, Mike’s in charge until I get back.” The irony of telling the woman who could probably bench-press a Buick to obey the human wasn’t lost on me.

It wasn’t lost on Istas, either. She raised one eyebrow, looking amused. Then she nodded, and agreed, “Yes. I will listen to the man I have just met when he is making judgments regarding my safety and the safety of my mate.”

“See, the sad thing is, I know you mean that.” It took me a while to learn to speak waheela. After being Istas’ coworker for a year, I had it pretty much down. (If it sounds sarcastic, it isn’t; if it involves a threat of physical violence, it’s sincere, but unless it comes with claws, it’s probably friendly. Like having a pet wolverine with rabies.)

Istas smiled. “Precisely. Enjoy your hunt for things to hurt. Save some carnage for the rest of us.”

“I will,” I said, and turned, walking back out into the main room. I paused by the table where we’d left Margaret’s weapons, picking up her telepathy-blocking charm and dropping it into one of the pockets of my backpack. If things were calm enough to allow for a few personal errands, I’d take it by the Freakshow. Bogeymen are some of the best information brokers and rumormongers in the world. Kitty might know how the thing worked, and better, how we could counter it. What’s the point of having a telepathic early warning system if you can’t use it?