Piyusha had been sacrificed by the snake cult that was trying to wake the dragon sleeping under the city. I tried to save her. I hadn’t been fast enough. There were reasons I thought warning her brothers about the coming purge was really the least that I could do.

Sunil didn’t look surprised to see me. “It’s late,” he said.

“I know. I’m as diurnal as you are, but this is sort of an emergency. Did I wake you? Can I come in?”

“No, you didn’t wake me, and yes, you can come in. Rochak is in the café kitchen heating up some gingerbread.” Sunil stepped to one side, waving for me to enter. I did, blinking at him.

“Were you expecting me?”

“Yes,” said Dominic. I snapped my head around so fast it made my ears ring. He was standing in the doorway to the private dining alcove, a festively-decorated little nook with a single table and no windows opening on the outside. That was how I’d been able to miss the light. “I was hoping you’d come here after you finished calling your family. Did you convey my regards to your father?”

“Not this time,” I said. Sunil closed the door behind me, pulling the shade a little tighter. I barely noticed. My attention was focused on Dominic. “Why are you here?”

“Because I knew you would come.” He smiled a little, indicating Sunil with one hand. “You are a deeply infuriating woman, but you’re also a dependable one. I knew you’d start by warning your friends. The dragons will panic. Then they will demand explanations and protection, all of which will take a great deal of time. You were going to begin either here or with your cousin.”

“And she can wait,” I said softly. “Dominic . . .”

“Why don’t you go sit down?” asked Sunil. “I’ll help Rochak in the kitchen.” He looked uncomfortable, maybe because very few cryptids who’ve seen a one-on-one meeting between a Price and a member of the Covenant have walked away unwounded.

“Thanks, Sunil,” I said. He flashed me a smile, and left.

Dominic, meanwhile, gestured for me to follow him into the dining nook. He’d clearly been there for a while; a half-empty cup of hot cocoa was sitting in front of one seat, and his duster was hanging from a hook on the wall. He didn’t say anything as he sat, picked up his cup, and looked at me.

“I’m sorry about before,” I said awkwardly, sitting down across from him. “I know you were trying to help. My reaction was out of line.”

Dominic sipped his cocoa. “Yes,” he agreed. “It was. To be fair, however, it was unexpected information. You had good reason to react as you did. I may have hoped that you would respond better, but I knew not to place all my faith in hoping.”

“Dad said . . . I mean, he thinks, and maybe I think, too . . . I mean . . .” I stopped, sighing, and took a deep breath before I continued. “Dominic, there’s no way we can evacuate this entire city before the Covenant gets here. And there’s no way for you to prevent them from coming. I’m going to need help making sure they do as little damage as possible. Please. I need your help.”

Dominic’s answer was delayed by Rochak’s arrival. He was carrying a plate of the café’s rightfully famous gingerbread. He also had a cup of hot cocoa for me. “Hello, Verity,” he said, with an honest smile.

“Hey, Rochak.” For a man who accused me of killing his sister the first time we met, Rochak has mellowed a lot where I’m concerned. I stood as he put the dishes down, giving him a quick hug. “How is everything?”

“It’s been better.” His eyes darted toward Dominic as he pulled away from me. “Is there really a purge coming?”

“Yes.” There was no percentage in sugarcoating things. So to speak. “That’s what we’re talking about now.”

“Sunil and I won’t leave.”

I bit back a sigh as I settled into my seat. “I didn’t think you would. So I guess we’ll just have to keep you under the radar.”

“I guess so,” said Rochak, and smiled again before he turned to slip out of the nook.

I looked back to Dominic, who was watching me with unguarded affection. “You are insane, infuriating, and in dire need of aid if you’re going to survive this,” he said. “My help was always yours. All you had to do was ask for it.”

“I’m asking,” I said.

“Then I’m yours.” He nudged the plate of gingerbread toward me. “Gingerbread?”

“Gingerbread and tactics,” I agreed, picking up a piece of piping-hot baked goodness. “Now that’s a date that I can really get behind.”

Dominic laughed. After a moment, I joined in.

Five

“The Covenant of St. George isn’t evil, simply misguided. This doesn’t mean you can’t shoot them, but it does mean you should apologize to their next of kin, should the opportunity ever arise.”

—Enid Healy

Downtown Manhattan, approaching the Port Hope Hotel

WE ATE HALF A PLATE of gingerbread and drank all the cocoa before coming to the conclusion that our next stop, tactically speaking, was Sarah’s place. She was family, which meant she had to be warned about what was coming. Beyond that, she was the fastest way for us to tell the dragons about the situation.

No one—and I mean no one, my family included—hates the Covenant of St. George like the dragons do. William is the last known male of their species, largely because of the Covenant’s fondness for dragon slaying. When they heard that a purge was coming, they were going to freak out. My family used to belong to the Covenant a long time ago, and the dragons have never quite forgiven us for that. If they got the news from me, things could turn ugly.

Sarah, on the other hand, is a cryptid, which makes her automatically more trustworthy than a human. It doesn’t hurt that everybody wants to trust a cuckoo, right up until the cuckoo stabs them in the back, steals their wallet, and runs away to Acapulco with their life savings. She’d have a better chance of explaining what was going on than I would . . . and sending her to explain things to the dragons would put her safely underground, in William’s nest, where I wouldn’t have to worry about her for a little while.

In deference to Dominic’s dislike of falling—and my own desire to finish eating my gingerbread, which was just as good as the sign on the door had promised it would be—I allowed him to flag down a taxi on the corner in front of Gingerbread Pudding. After checking my phone to be sure that I hadn’t forgotten where Sarah was staying, I gave the driver the address for the Port Hope Hotel and settled in my seat, ignoring my dislike of New York taxis in favor of enjoying my Madhura-concocted treats.