Sanctuary. ?ód?, Poland.

  Gareth was pretty done with the Church. While Reeve was languishing upstairs, first depressed and plastered, then pitifully hungover, he’d been out every night with these damn lunatics. Very few had any language in common, so he mostly ran alongside them until someone shouted at him, pointing in some direction or another. It was one thing to chase down these things when he was with a purposeful group, and a totally different thing to do it while feeling like he was along for the ride and they may not even notice if he wasn’t there.

  But of course they would notice. So he went.

  There was a time in his life when the idea of watching these dogs or Phagi or elders or whatever you want to call them—watching them be destroyed would have sounded great. Some kind of revenge fantasy. In reality, it was the farthest thing from a daydream. Seeing them, even dead and burning, turned his short fuse—and he knew it was short—into a powderkeg. Alyosha had set him off a couple of times. He was probably just trying to be kind, but Gareth mostly wanted people to be absent right now. Luckily, Alyosha was happy to leave him alone, between spending time with Allison and keeping the lump that was Reeve company. Plus she’d told them it was best to leave Reeve to himself through this, as there was no telling what forces like that could do to observers. Gareth was fine with skipping that shit show, even if Alyosha wasn’t. Gareth was sore and drained from healing bones and cuts. The only positive had been that with Reeve sequestered, no one tried to talk him out of venturing into the city to find someone who could distract him for an hour or two.

  Gareth spun his heels for another four nights while Reeve and Allison did whatever it was they were doing behind closed doors upstairs during the night. Reeve surprised him one evening when Gareth had gotten up early by coming down the stairs and nodding to Gareth across the room like nothing had happened.

  Gareth dropped his gear and went into the kitchen. Reeve’s eyes were sunken in. He had shaved and had a yellow-green cast to his skin, but otherwise, he looked like himself.

  “You good?” Gareth asked.

  “Tired, but yeah.”

  “Are you…” Gareth floundered for the right word. “Operational?”

  He gave him a look that was half glare and half smile. “I’ll be able to use my knack.”

  “Thank god.”

  This time he did smile. “Never thought I’d hear that.”

  Gareth sniffed. “What the hell have you two been doing up there?”

  “Honestly? Trying to use my telepathy without her smacking me, which would signal she could sense it.” He scrunched up his face. “I’m feeling a little black and blue.”

  “Now what?”

  “I told Allison before I went to sleep that we’d want to get on the road immediately and keep looking. That work for you?”

  He lowered his voice a bit. “Get me the hell out of here.”

  “I’m with you. Why don’t you pack? As soon as I tell Alyosha, I’ll find Allison and let her know we’re going.”

  Gareth raised his eyebrows.

  “What?”

  “Those two things are going to happen pretty close together. You’ve been out of it for a while.”

  “And?”

  “Reeve.”

  Watching it register on Reeve’s face was more satisfying than it should have been. He blinked fast and his mouth opened toward one side. Gareth wished he knew if Reeve had used his telepathy or come to it on his own.

  “Shvedov and Allison?”

  Gareth opened his mouth to respond but spotted them coming down the stairs behind Reeve.

  “Morning,” he called, trying to keep his grin to himself, watching Reeve’s floundering expression. “We were hoping to head out soon.” Reeve did not have time to manage a poker face. Alyosha looked at Gareth, who gave him a shrug, before laughing. Allison gave the both of them a deep smile.

  “I figured,” she said, her voice going up at the end. She slipped her hand into her back pocket. “I have something that might help you.” She held out a bit of paper to Reeve.

  “What is it?” Reeve asked, as he unfolded it. Gareth glanced over Reeve’s shoulder. It looked like a phone number.

  “I asked around about Misha. Horst had his cell number. Alyosha told me a little about why you need to find him.”

  The small kindled hope Gareth had quickly faded. Reeve’s lips were tight together and he lightly tapped the slip of paper against his open palm. Alyosha was staring at the floor. It was his old number.

  “Thank you. I guess he didn’t tell you why we can’t find him.” Reeve sighed.

  She put her hand on her hip, taken aback. “No, I guess not.”

  “To keep them safe, Misha destroyed his phone and we kept ours so they could find us, but we couldn’t find them.” He held up the paper. “This doesn’t work anymore.”

  She looked askance at him. “I don’t know him that well, but he’s memorable, and I don’t see Misha ditching his cell. His work is all in munitions and it takes a long time to build those contacts. I don’t see him making himself unreachable.”

  “Extenuating circumstances,” Gareth said, hoping to stop the explanation from going any farther.

  “I’m just saying.” She touched Alyosha’s shoulder, then pushed past them to start gearing up with the others in the sitting room.

  Before Gareth could say anything, Reeve was dialing.

  ---

  Union Station. Los Angeles, CA.

  It wasn’t often that Louis felt the flip and turn of fear in the pit of his stomach, but today he did. He couldn’t conjure a single piece of good news that would warrant this type of invitation.

  As he entered Union Station, he glanced up at the stark white clock tower to see he was just on time. There were certain meetings it wasn’t good to be early for.

  Everything about the ticket concourse to his left assaulted his enhanced senses. It was packed with people standing, walking, sitting. Some waiting for trains and others were simply tourists sightseeing at the historic building. Their chatter as it bounced off the walls and high ceilings was enough to make him walk slower, as if he was pushing his way through deep water. Ahead of him was the waiting room, which was shaping up to be even worse. The walls were free of art, but instead covered in endless tile in different colors and styles as his eyes climbed the impossibly tall walls of the vaulted art deco ceilings.

  The ceiling.

  Louis' enhanced vision reeled at the mass of inset wood panels, each ornately adorned with geometric inlay. It had a warmth to it that Louis felt like he could fall into if he let himself. The inlays held slightly different grain patterning than the wood they decorated, and it contrasted with the square insets in such a way that it almost created a lattice effect, echoing through iterations from largest squares down to their tiniest increments. There were chandeliers hanging from them—looming circles made of yet more squares that glowed and illuminated the warm wood. He was used to getting caught up in the geometry of nature—the veining in a stone, the weave of a blade of grass, the golden ratio hiding in plain sight everywhere you looked. And he was used to the geometry embedded in man-made materials—patterns that weren’t meant to be noticed, but couldn’t help repeating: the particular tooth of a saw or a given press mold. But as he gazed up at this ceiling, its intentional geometry caught his eye in a way that made him feel a little dizzy—he kept wanting to pull back from his enhanced sight, to see the forest instead of the trees.

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  If he didn’t know any better, he would think this location had been chosen especially to put him at a disadvantage.

  Pulling his eyes away from the architecture, he scanned the aisles of opulent wooden armchairs and tables covered in crisp white tablecloths off to one side, until he spotted Mackenzie. She’d chosen an armchair near the entrance to the women’s restroom, likely because it had a lot of foot traffic. As he approached, she removed her jacket from the seat next to her so he could sit.

  Her features didn’t react to his presence but she shifted herself in the seat to better face him. She looked worn, but those who didn’t work with her every day likely wouldn’t have noticed it.

  He took a seat. “If you’re trying to scare me,” he said, “It’s working.”

  “Does that sound like me?”

  “No it doesn’t.” Louis watched the crowd with tense vigilance for any hint of anyone paying them too much or too little attention and glanced back at her. “Are you ready to talk to me?”

  The lines in her forehead and between her brows deepened. “Not exactly, but I do need to talk to you about something.”

  He shrugged, not wanting to seem overeager. “Anything.”

  “It’s about Fox.”

  Louis felt his pulse begin to gallop and he made an effort to slow it before responding. She waited patiently, her eyes dancing across the crowd as well.

  “What about him?”

  “He was attacked. He’s fine, no injuries he couldn’t manage as a bio manip, but his apartment was broken into in the middle of night and someone tried to kill him.”

  “You’re sure it wasn’t a simple burglary?”

  “A burglar with a knack?”

  “Shit.” He shut his eyes, thinking. “Did he get their affiliation?”

  “No, they made a run for it once they realized he wasn’t going down easy. According to Fox, he made significant alterations to his attacker’s biology before they got away, so they likely didn’t live out the night to report back.”

  Louis studied her face, a picture of calm. “It has to be Entropy, right?” Beyond Sol and Entropy, the only other organized group of knacked people, if you could call them organized, was the Church of the Children of God and they had no interest in politics.

  She gave no indication of an answer one way or the other. “You understand why I’m talking to you here now?”

  He didn’t want to say it out loud, but he did. “There’s a leak.”

  She lifted one eyebrow, expression neutral. “Except?”

  The tone of her voice reminded him of when she’d quiz him on protocols and analytics when she first started training him. He cleared his throat. “The only person in LA who knows where Fox is, is you.”

  She nodded and ordered, “Run it down.”

  Louis’s eyes drifted from left to right, not seeing anything as he moved through the branches of exposure.

  “Tech,” he began.

  “Indicating our secure channels are not secure.” She looked at him to continue.

  “Fox was made. But without more knowledge of his assignment, that’s hard to assess.”

  “Human error,” she agreed. “I chose Fox for a reason, so it’s not impossible, but unlikely.” She held his eyes, waiting.

  Louis was overheating in his suit coat, either from the heat of the crush of bodies milling around them or his rising blood pressure.

  “A mole.”

  She nodded again. “Indicating someone has been passing on surveillance to a hostile entity. But?”

  “It’s surveillance that had to have come from inside your office.”

  “So someone with a specialized knack like telepathy, psychometry, enhanced senses, etc.”

  His mouth had gone dry from the weight of the implications and Louis was working to get his mouth around his words when a thought hit him like a knife to the ribs. “Did you bring me out here because you think it’s me?”

  Mackenzie balked. “Of course not.” The offense in her voice was comforting and he felt himself deflate in relief. She shifted in her chair, sitting up straighter as though truly flustered, then narrowed her eyes at him. “Besides, I know how fast you are. If I knew it was you, I wouldn’t have had any part of this conversation to give you a chance at reacting. You’d be gone before you sat down.”

  “That’s oddly reassuring.” He smoothed his hair. He was losing his cool and he knew it. “Have you talked to Grace?”

  “No, and you won’t either.”

  Louis felt a coldness spreading from his hands and feet. He’d known Grace for years—she was solid and steady. “Are you saying you don’t trust her?”

  She gave him a pained look. “Of course I trust her. That’s why I need her undistracted and on the job.”

  He let out a breath. It was true enough that he hadn’t been at his sharpest for a while. “What’s your plan?”

  She shrugged. “Initiate an extra-rigorous audit of our cyber division and tell Fox to be more careful.”

  He leaned forward, incredulous. “That’s it?”

  “That’s all I can do for now without playing more of my hand.”

  Louis stared at her as he floundered. “Why are you telling me this?” he demanded.

  “I thought you wanted me to talk to you.”

  “Jesus,” he exclaimed, careful to keep his voice low. “I want you to tell me what the hell you’re chasing so I can help you, not give me cliffsnotes on things I can’t do anything about.” When she didn’t respond, he added, “You’re not telling Rafe this?”

  “Of course I’m not telling Rafe this,” she snapped. “And you aren’t either,” she repeated the phrase like a refrain.

  “I should.”

  She didn’t bother addressing that. She knew him better. “I’m telling you because I want you to know and so you can better keep an eye out for anything out of the ordinary.”

  A laugh escaped him before he could get a hold of it. Out of the ordinary? He shook his head at her. “I don’t know what the fuck to do with you sometimes.”

  “Trust me.”

  “I do.”

  “Go back to the office then. I’ll be right behind you. I know this mess isn’t like any assignment I’ve ever given you, but we can do this.”

  He nodded and headed for the door without answering. Louis didn’t know how to respond to something like that. And he needed the fresh air.

  ---

  Sanctuary. ?ilina, Slovakia.

  Misha was not feeling great. He’d slept late, but it still felt like sleep could drag him down if he gave into it in the slightest. It was a bone-weary weight, like a dead body strapped to his back, arms, and legs, making every movement a leaden struggle. The swelling in his joints brought a familiar pain. Squeezing, sharp, and insistent. He had expected it when he’d mimicked the teleporter. That never made it any easier somehow.

  Knacks that he’d mimicked often and trained with, like telepathy, didn’t set him off like this. He’d bitched and moaned about Adam making him mimic telepathy over and over, along with a handful of other more common knacks. It taught his body to recognize the knack rather than see it as some kind of outside threat like it would a virus, but that kind of exposure therapy had left him sick most of his days in the Academy. He sullenly, and silently, admitted it had been the best way to prepare—but he was also pissed he hadn’t mastered teleportation before he’d run.

  He could hear Alex and Hannah coming up the stairs and popped a couple of the tiny white pills Helena had given him in Italy. They were intensely bitter and he made a face. In a couple of days, he’d be himself again. The two of them had bags under their eyes from sleeplessness and worry. The idea of taking either of them out on the hunt tonight scared the hell out of him because of how distracted they were. They should probably be laying low, anyway.

  “You look like hell,” Hannah said sitting down on her bed.

  “You’re not gorgeous yourself,” he countered with something like a smile.

  Alex tried to put a hand on his forehead and he slapped it away.

  “Jeez, sorry. You look like you have a fever.”

  “Because I have a fever.”

  “Shouldn’t you rest, then?”

  “It’s Lupus, not pneumonia. Resting doesn’t make you all better.”

  As Hannah was taking a breath to retort, Alex heard a low hum and startled. With a look of relief, Alex reached into his pocket and pulled out the phone. The screen was flashing insistently in his hand. He gave Hannah a bug-eyed stare.

  “Well, I about shit myself,” said Alex.

  Misha stuck out his hand for the phone. He really didn’t have the energy to deal with these two and put out whatever fire in his supply line someone was calling about.

  Something visibly clicked in Alex’s head. “Who the hell’s going to be calling this number?” Misha didn’t have the energy for this conversation either.

  “You need to stop going into my bag,” he spat. Misha grabbed the phone without looking at him and answered the call. “Da.” His voice was clearly annoyed, but he was certain no one was going to be surprised.

  A shrill tone came over the line. “Are you goddamn kidding me?”

  Misha held the phone out and glared at it before putting it back to his ringing ear. “You called me, eh? Who is this?”

  “It’s Reeve, damn it.”

  “Reeve—” Misha let out a breath. The looks on Alex and Hannah’s faces were almost enough to make him smile. “Jesus Christ. Why the fuck aren’t you answering your phone?”

  “Why the fuck are you answering yours?”

  “Doesn’t matter.”

  “Doesn’t— Are they okay?”

  “We’re all fine here. You?” Hannah and Alex were intensely invading his personal space to hear what was being said.

  “We’re okay.”

  “Where are you?” Misha asked.

  “?ód?, Poland.”

  “We’re less than a day’s drive from you. Have you had any heat?”

  “Nothing recently,” Reeve said.

  “Good, you come to us then. Sanctuary on Cestárska, ?ilina, Slovakia.” Misha heard him mangling the pronunciation to someone off the line.

  “Okay, we’ll be there. Can I talk to the others?”

  Misha groaned and rolled his eyes but hit the speaker button after Hannah smacked his arm. Hannah and Alex spoke over each other like they couldn’t hear the other at all.

  “Are you okay? Did you run into any trouble? You wouldn’t believe all this bullshit.”

  “Are Gareth and Alyosha there? Why aren’t you answering your phone?”

  There was a pause of silence while Misha assumed Reeve was trying to understand the din. “We’re fine,” he said, his voice uncertain. “Just relieved you’re okay.”

  There was a rustle and Gareth’s voice came over the line. “Misha, why the fuck do you still have this number?”

  “I figured you were over-reacting,” he said honestly. “It was a stupid idea.”

  “I’m going to kill you.”

  “No, you’re not.” There was a scrambling of voices over the line and he’d had enough. “Jesus Christ, you’re all going to see each other tomorrow. Travel safe. I’ve got your number now.” Misha hung up.

  “What the hell?” Hannah whined and flopped back onto her bed. Alex tackled her and they hugged, laughing.

  “I can’t believe you didn’t throw your phone out.”

  “I have no idea why.” He tossed the cell into his bag. “Listen, the number of idiots I have to deal with is going to double in twenty-four hours, so could you get the hell out of here so I can get some extra sleep?”

  Surprisingly, they didn’t argue or bitch. “Let us know if you need anything,” Alex said, grabbing some of his things. They were twittering like birds as they walked down the hall. Misha drooped, then laid down again, pulling the covers up over his head.

  ***