“Time to get Containment in line?”

“Exactly,” Gunnar said.

I nodded, sipped my coffee. “He’ll make a move. Rutledge, I mean. Why wouldn’t he, after all this planning?”

“Agreed,” Liam said, refilling his cup. “The only issue is—”

“Where, when, and how well you’re prepared for it,” I finished, rising from my chair.

Liam looked at me with surprise. “That’s twice in a row that you’ve listened to me.”

“Veil fluctuations,” I grumbled, and headed upstairs.

•   •   •

I got dressed and came downstairs again to find Gavin rushing in through the front door. Since he was on guard, it was quickly obvious that something was wrong.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Liam asked.

“Tadji’s mom. I left when the Containment guards relieved me half an hour ago. I verified their ID, then went to the store to grab a few things—food, water. When I got back, the guards were dead. They took Phaedra.”

Fear blossomed like a crimson rose. “Tadji?”

“My next-door neighbor’s a former marine. She and her aunt are with him for now. That was the safest place I could think of.”

“They didn’t take Zana,” I said, and looked at Liam. “They figured out Phaedra locked the Veil?”

“Or she told them to protect her sister.”

I hadn’t known Phaedra long, but that sounded like something she’d do.

Liam’s eyes narrowed at Gavin. “How’d they find out where you live?”

“I don’t know,” Gavin said, looking completely stricken. “I don’t know who could have told them.”

“Rutledge must have connections,” Gunnar said. “Which means he won’t have any doubts now that Containment is onto him.”

“He’ll try to open the Veil now,” Liam agreed with a nod. “Even if he doesn’t have all the Sensitives, he’ll know he only has one shot. Hell, the way the Veil’s been fluctuating, he could already be close.”

“We have to tell the others,” I said. “We have to go to the refinery. That’s the meeting spot.”

If I was really, really lucky, there’d be a pigeon outside my window, ready to take a message to the rest of our allies.

“How are we going to get there?” Gavin asked. “I’m guessing there are more people than us who need to go, and I’d really prefer not to ride in the backseat of that piece-of-shit truck again.”

“It’s not a piece of shit.”

“It’s piece of shit enough.”

“Children,” I said quietly, and looked at Gunnar. “There will be more of us. Can you get us a ride?”

He nodded, and there was a gleam in his eyes. “Give me ten minutes,” he said, and set off at a run toward the Cabildo.

•   •   •

I’d been prepared to raise the flag to signal Delta, but it wasn’t necessary. There was a gray pigeon, its feathers shimmering iridescent in the light, perched outside the window.

It had a note already, and it seemed our friends were thinking the same thing: DISCUSSION RE: BAYOU AND NEXT STEPS AT USUAL PLACE. NOON.

It was nearly noon. I gave the pigeon some feed. While it bobbed its head at the grains, I scribbled out a small reply, tucked it into its pouch. I kept it short and sweet: RUTLEDGE HAS PHAEDRA DUPRE. MEET ASAP.

By the time I made sure the pigeon was in the air and made my way to the first floor, tires were squealing outside. Gunnar pulled up in a white van with CONTAINMENT in black block letters along both sides and the back.