“Working on it.” The house was on the middle of the block, and though I could see a street sign on each corner, I couldn’t quite make out what either of them said.

I didn’t want to leave Abby alone to go look, nor did I want to waste time jogging down to the corner.

The house number was nailed to the front-porch support, in shiny brass numbers, 104. I was at 104 something-or-other street, somewhere in Mississippi. I’d almost decided to go ask a neighbor, but was stil working out an explanation for my injuries and the fact that I didn’t know where I was, when I noticed the mailbox. It was one of those old wrought-iron things, attached to the wall of the house right next to the door. And it was full. Miguel must not have checked the mail all week.

The first envelope I grabbed was addressed to Occupant, at 104 Douglas Circle, Crystal Springs, Mississippi. I read the address to Michael, and he read it back to me as he wrote it down, spel ing the name of the town to make sure he’d gotten it right.

I shoved the envelope back into the mailbox and went inside, locking the door behind me. A single dead bolt wouldn’t do much good if Miguel got back before we left, but it might at least give me some warning.

“Listen, Michael, I need to talk to Daddy. Now.”

“He’s coming. He was meeting with the council.” Something scratched against the mouthpiece on his end of the connection. He’d covered it up. “Wait, Faythe, here he comes. Dad, she wants to talk to you. She’s with Abby, and they’re both fine.”

Another pause as the phone changed hands. Then I heard my father’s voice.

“Faythe? Is it really you? ”

“Yeah, Daddy, it’s me.” Nerves tightened my chest as I spoke, and I resolved, once the excitement was over, to have a normal, calm conversation with my father.

Just one, to see what it would feel like without the usual emotional charge.

He exhaled in relief, and I couldn’t help but smile. It was good to be missed.

“Are you real y okay?” Daddy asked, and I heard the tension in his voice. He expected the worst.

“I’m fine. Michael has the address.” I stopped by the fridge again and snagged an unopened package of cold cuts. Ripping open the bag, I stuffed four slices into my mouth, barely pausing to chew them before I swal owed, washing them down with more soda.

“I know. He’s already on the other line, sending the closest search party your way. We had five guys in Louisiana. They can be there in an hour and a half, barring catastrophe.” There was the barest of pauses as he inhaled, clearly steeling himself to hear the details. “Tel me what happened.”

I rubbed my forehead, trying to decide how to begin. “I wasn’t running away,”

I said, leaning against the kitchen counter for support. “I want you to know that. I just went out to the barn to think.”

“We can talk about that later. It doesn’t matter now.” A chair creaked, and I knew he’d sat down behind his desk. “Are you in any immediate danger?”

“I don’t think so.” I closed my eyes, wrestling with indecision. I’d have to tel him everything eventual y, but so much of it would be awkward over the phone.

Taking a deep breath, I plunged ahead with the necessary information. “I bit through one guy’s throat and locked another in the basement.” I paused, waiting for his reaction, but none came. His exhale was long and smooth, and very controlled.

He had something to say but was saving it for a better time. So I continued, “I haven’t seen the stray I fought on campus, and the other two were already gone when I broke out, and they shouldn’t be back until tomorrow.”

“Good,” he said, and I knew he had his emotions in check. Having established that the immediate threat was over, he turned his attention to the next course of action. “I want you to take Abby and go to the nearest public building. A store, a gas station, anything you can find, so long as there are plenty of people around in case—”

“We can’t leave yet, Daddy,” I said, interrupting him. “I’m stil looking for the key to Abby’s cage, or for something strong enough to knock the lock off. And I’m not in any shape to be seen in public.”

“Why? Are you hurt?” His voice was tight with anger, for once not directed at me.

“Just bruised,” I said, comforted when he exhaled in relief. “But I’m barefoot, and I’m sure my face looks like hell.”

“Are you sure you’re safe until the guys get there?”

“As safe as I’d be anywhere else,” I said, despite the voice of dissension in my head screaming for me to run away as fast as I could. “There’s no one left here to be scared of.”

“Who are they?”

“You know about Sean, and there was another named Eric, but he’s dead now.

Luiz is the cat I fought on campus, but no one’s seen him in a couple of days. R—” I stopped in midsyl able, for a last second rephrase. “Miguel might have kil ed him, but I don’t think we can be sure of that yet. Miguel’s the jungle cat they smelled on Sara. He’s in charge.”

“The jungle cat. I’l be damned,” he said, and I choked on a mouthful of soda.

I’d never heard my father cuss before. “What about the fifth?”

I hesitated, thinking of my mother. Finding out about Ryan would kil her. “Are you alone?”

“I can be. Why?”