They followed Dominic as he walked down the side of the pier to the rental car he had parked illegally in a nearby loading zone. It was a black Crown Vic—of course it was—and from the way he held the doors open for them, he could almost have been mistaken for their chauffeur. He even loaded the suitcases into the trunk without assistance. All three kept hold of their satchels. Dominic never even reached for them. There were apparently some things that simply were not done.

Once the others were safely in the car, he walked around to the driver’s side door and pulled it open, taking what must have looked like a natural pause while he looked up to the nearby rooftops. I remained frozen where I was, using the shadow of the clock tower for cover. His eyes skated over me without pausing, and as he climbed into the car and drove away, I still wasn’t sure whether I’d been seen.

I would normally have tried to follow the car, but the selection of the old Department of Docks building hadn’t been an accident. It was detached, set far enough out on the pier that there was nothing I could jump to or grab hold of. Even getting to the nearest buildings would have required running across level ground, and that would have left me visible. I did follow them as far as the roof’s edge, straightening up while I watched them disappear into the flow of traffic.

The Covenant was in Manhattan. All I could do now was try to keep myself—and everyone else—alive.

The Department of Docks roof was as good a place as any to make a phone call, and the cell reception was surprisingly good, maybe because it was one of the few spots in the city without multiple skyscrapers looming directly over it. I retreated back to the shadow of the clock tower to dial, propping myself in the space created where the tower wall met the angle of the roof.

The logical person to call would have been my father, who was probably worrying himself sick while he waited to hear what was going on. Instead, I dialed someone who stood a better chance of actually helping me. “Sarah? Hi, it’s Verity.”

“Oh, hey.” Sarah yawned, barely making an effort to hide it. “What do you want? It’s, like . . . jeez, Very, what time is it?”

“About eleven,” I said. “Don’t you have morning classes?”

“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?”