After a moment, Jason stopped and put a hand in the air, then made a fist.

Immediately, the rest of us stopped and switched off our flashlights. I moved a little closer to Scout. This part of the tunnel was pitch-black, and it was comforting to have someone nearby. I strained my ears to figure out what he’d heard, but could hear only the thumping of my rabbit-fast heart.

That was when I heard them—two voices, a few tunnels away, which gave their voices a weird metallic echo.

“No, it’s because they think he’s weak,” said one man.

“He is weak,” agreed another. “We don’t have magic.”

Scout reached out and squeezed my hand. Sebastian had been telling us the truth—the Reapers didn’t have magic, either.

“You heard the rumors?”

“Yeah,” the other guy said after a minute. “I heard ’em.”

“You think they’re true?”

“I don’t know. Honestly, I don’t know fact from fiction anymore.”

What rumors? I wondered, and had to squeeze my lips together from calling out a question: Who took our magic away?

“I don’t have a clue,” said the first guy. “That’s what I’d like to know.”

“The Scions won’t put up with this for long. And I don’t care how the other sanctuaries do it—we’re the first sanctuary, the alpha and omega. We should not be lying around and waiting for our magic to start working again.”

“That’s why this entire organization is going to hell,” said the other one.

The footsteps moved closer, as did the faint glow of a flashlight somewhere down the line. We all froze, our shoulders pressed against one another’s, squeezed into a tight knot as we waited in the dark.

“I don’t even know why we bother patrolling. There’s nothing out here.”

“Jeremiah’s nervous. No magic, and you start to think every shadow is a boogeyman.”

“Says something about life without magic,” muttered the other guy.

“Yes, it does.” His voice dropped a little deeper, like the conversation was getting more serious.

There was silence for a minute, but the lights ahead flickered, like the guys were swinging their flashlights back and forth . . . looking for us.

“Let’s go back.”

“Fine,” the other one said. “But if he has another fit, it’s your head this time.”

After a moment, we heard footsteps moving away. And when silence descended again, Jason flipped on his flashlight and turned back to us.

Michael was the first to speak. “That confirms their magic isn’t working.”

“And they don’t seem to know why,” Jason added.

“I am very happy their magic isn’t working,” Scout said. “I also want to know what rumors they’re talking about. Let’s move closer.”

“Is that a good idea?” I asked. “We’re, what, five hundred feet from the sanctuary? It’s not going to get any safer.”

“We have to plant the camera,” Detroit reminded us. “We have to move closer.”

“We’ll go lights out,” Jason said, switching off his flashlight again. “We’ll get as close to the sanctuary as possible, and we’ll see if they have any guesses about who’s turned off the magic. If all else fails, I’ll change, sneak in, and check things out. No problem.”

Without a better plan, we kept moving.

* * *

After a few minutes we reached the well-lit area where the tunnel opened into an access area. From there, you could get to other parts of the city’s underground tunnels or head upstairs to the street. Or, if you really wanted, you could climb the set of concrete stairs that led up to a small platform and a metal door—the front door to the sanctuary.

We crowded into the threshold of the tunnel and peered out. There was no sign of the men, who’d either gone back into the building or disappeared into a secondary tunnel. But that didn’t slow my heartbeat any. Inside the sanctuary was a giant banner that bore a Reaper quatrefoil—and beneath it was the table where Scout had been used by Reapers for her own energy.

I reached out and squeezed her hand. It was cold and clammy, and when I glanced over at her, she looked a little pale.

“You okay?”

“Just . . . remembering,” she said, but swallowed hard. “No problem.”

“Should we go in?” Michael whispered.

For a moment, no one answered.

“I’ve got one more thing to try.”

We all looked at Detroit. Nervously, she opened her black satchel and pulled out a black plastic beetle a few inches long. She held it in the palm of her hand.

“What is it?” I asked.

“It’s like an X-ray camera,” she said. “It will filter out the concrete and pipes and stuff and we can get a visual on the room. Sound, too. It’s a bug,” she said with a nervous laugh. “Get it?”

“What’s the catch?” Jason asked.

She looked up at him. “We have to get it inside. Just sticking it on the door isn’t enough. It can see through only so much concrete, so it needs to be on the wall of the room you want to look into.”

Jason winced, then looked up at her. “I hate to ask—”

“It will work,” she interrupted. “I promise it will work.”

There was another moment of silence as we debated our options. Going inside the sanctuary was a huge risk, and if Detroit’s beetle thingy didn’t work, it was a huge risk with no benefit. On the other hand, if the Reapers weren’t responsible for the magical blackout, who was? Who else had the power to do it? We had to find that out.