“Soon.” Anthony’s voice fell. “I have two days.”

  June frowned. “Two days?”

  “To make my decision.”

  “What decision?” Sam asked.

  “To join him or not.” He rubbed the back of his arm where the chip had been. “He wants me by his side. He says we’ll be unstoppable together. If my answer is yes, I’m supposed to go back to the Institute and join him.”

  June gazed at him. “And if your answer is no?”

  Anthony gazed back at her, silent.

  “We’ll figure something out,” Sam said. “We’ll get you the hell out of town.”

  Anthony laughed bitterly. “There’s nowhere to hide from him. Not for me. I could go to Antarctica and he’d find me. And knowing what he’s up to?” He shook his head. “He wouldn’t let me get away. I’m trapped. That’s the way he wants it. He gets his little brother back, one way or another.”

  All three of them had brother issues, in vastly different ways.

  “I can’t let Robbie do this,” Sam said. “I can’t let him get away with it.”

  June drew a deep breath. Her side ached. “A lot of people could get hurt if he brings that building down. There’s always people out front.”

  “It’s not just the people.” Sam’s voice was grim. “Or even the building. I don’t care about the building. Let it crumble. But Robbie is right. If he does this, his followers will rally behind him with monstrous ferocity. The fence sitters will fall off onto his side. His army will wash this city in blood and kill every person who doesn’t agree with them, paranormal and normal alike. The Institute won’t be the only thing in ashes.”

  A chill raced down June’s spine.

  “You’re right,” Anthony said, soft and distant. “This is his way of kick starting the apocalypse.”

  However, no man was an island, and neither was Chicago.

  “He can try to take over,” June said, “but he can’t take over the world. This is just one city.”

  Sam’s eyes were ablaze. “Yes, but it’s my goddamn city.”

  * * * *

  Mr. Capelli had silver hair and blue eyes. He had a warm smile, wide and white. The soft sagging lines on his face reminded June of her mother’s favorite white leather armchair, all squishy and fold-y.

  June and Jason were ten. They’d been living in California for a year, and it was completely different from Rhode Island. Always sunny and hot, no seasons. No leaves turning colors, no snow on the ground. Sometimes in winter, it got chilly and gray, but that was it. June still hadn’t adjusted, but then, she hadn’t adjusted to a lot of things: the absence of her father, the constant tension in her mother’s voice, the way she felt like an even bigger weirdo at school than she ever had in Rhode Island. Everyone seemed richer and smarter and more popular than she was. She got made fun of for being short, for being skinny, for not eating most of her lunch because it made her sick.

  Mr. Capelli’s visits were the one part of her new life she liked. He came over every other weekend and stayed for a few hours, talking to her and Jason about their voices. June’s voice was another source of weirdness for her. The anxiety-inducing levels of attention she put into not saying the wrong thing or hurting anybody, or not ruining anyone else’s family, made her miserable. Jason never used his voice. He hadn’t for a long time, since Katie died. She envied him, how it seemed so easy for him.

  Mr. Capelli showed them books about people with supernatural powers. He talked about all the different powers people had and how they struggled with them. He taught them techniques for using their voices safely, how open-ended commands caused the most harm, how they had to make sure the tasks could be completed so the spell would break. June practiced with him, but Jason never did. Their voices didn’t affect Mr. Capelli, but he didn’t explain why.

  Sometimes after a lesson, he would take them for ice cream or to the park. His voice was soothing, and she liked to listen to him talk.

  “I know you feel like the strangest person in the world,” he said to her, one bright Saturday afternoon. They sat on a bench in the park near her apartment. Jason climbed on a nearby jungle gym.

  “There’s lots of strange people, aren’t there?” June asked.

  “Yes. And people without powers will try to make you feel bad about it. They’ll try to make you feel like a freak. But remember, you’re important and useful. You’re special, and you’ll do special things in your life.”

  “What will I do that’s special?”

  He looked down at her. “You’ll do greater things than you could ever imagine. Even if you’re scared, even if you don’t know what to do next, you’ll find the specialness inside you and do what has to be done. You’ll save people.”

  Jason sat on the jungle gym, way at the top, legs dangling through the bars.

  “Like a superhero?” June asked.

  He chuckled. “Yes, like a superhero.”

  “How do you know I’ll do those things?”

  “Because I see it inside you.” He leaned closer, lowering his voice. “Being a hero means doing the right thing, doing the hard thing, even when it doesn’t benefit you. Being a hero is about sacrifice, and it takes a strong person to sacrifice. The strongest kind of people. I see that strong person inside you.”

  “What is sacrificing?”

  “It means giving up a part of yourself to make someone else happy, or to save them. It means your love for someone or something else is stronger than your love for yourself. Like your mother. She’s given up many things for your happiness, because she loves you.”

  That didn’t sound so great. In fact, it sounded scary. But she loved her mother, and she wanted to be just like her.

  “I want to be special.” She nodded. “I want to be a hero.”

  “You will be. But you must give it time. The day will come. I see many things.”

  “What kind of things do you see?”

  He smiled. “All things.”

  “How do you see everything?”

  “I’m special too. We’re all special in our own ways.”

  “It must be hard to see everything. Isn’t that a lot to see?”

  He squinted over at Jason. “Oh, yes. But sometimes I get to just sit on a bench and talk about it, and those are the nice times. Especially when someone is listening.”

  She swung her legs, sneakers scuffing the ground. Jason swung down off one of the bars in the middle of the jungle gym and dangled in mid-air. She thought about love and about being special. She thought about being a hero.

  Sacrifice.

  Chapter 20

  Sitting on the couch in the silence, the night thick outside the windows, June stared down at her phone. Her mother’s voice still rang in her ears. The constant litany of “I miss you, I miss you, I miss you,” as June continued pretending everything was all right, that they were coming home soon, that Jason was fine.

  The sound of her mother singing her opera rang in June’s ears, too, down through the years. The scales and harmonies, the way she’d sing in the kitchen in the morning, the pieces she’d practice for auditions. But the auditions became fewer and fewer as the need to work and provide swelled over her dreams. The sacrifices she made for her children slowly took her voice away.

  June looked at the front door, everything inside her as still as the house.

  Mr. Capelli never explained how much being a hero sucked, how nobility was far less pleasant than self-interest.

  She stood. The door was open to the night. She walked toward it.

  Outside on the porch, Sam sat in a chair. He looked like he had the night Muse died, lost and vacant.

  June walked over and sat down in the chair adjacent to him. She looked toward the spot where Occam had dumped the body.

  “I don’t know what to do,” Sam said. “I can’t pull one idea out of my head.”

  June didn’t speak.

  “I have to stop him. If I don’t stop him, this will be catastrophic. What it will bring down on this city will be terrible and irreversible.”

  “I know,” she whispered.

  “How can I possibly get in there? Even if I change my appearance, getting past Robbie’s watchful eye will be nearly impossible.”

  June looked down at her hands, folded between her knees.

  “And even if I do get in there.” He shook his head. “What do I do? How do I stop him? I can’t fight that man. I can’t do anything to him. He can end me with a thought.”

  June clicked her nails together.

  “Maybe we should tell someone.” Sam sat forward. “Leak the information, let someone go in there and find out.” He paused. “But I don’t know if that’s a good idea. That’s just throwing victims in Robbie’s pit.”

  June spoke softly. “No authority is going to bring him down. He’s already proven that.”

  “So it has to be me.” He pushed his hands through his hair. “I have to get in there—somehow—and stop him, some way. Even if I tell Anthony to go in there and pretend he’s with Robbie, what good will it do? Unless Anthony can stop him, assassinate him maybe. But Robbie’s not alone.”

  “No, he’s not.” She looked up. “And if Anthony kills Robbie, Robbie’s goons will kill Anthony.”

  “I won’t throw him to the wolves like that. I can’t ask that of him.”

  “He wants to end his brother too. But Robbie is much more likely to end him. Much more likely to end all of us.”

  Sam growled. “He can’t win like this! We can’t let this happen, not after everything we’ve gone through, everything we accomplished. He has to be stopped.”

  June nodded.

  “Even if I have to give my own life,” Sam said, “I will stop him. I won’t let him have this city.”

  Sacrifice. Loving something more than you love yourself.

  “I never had dreams of martyr-hood.” Sam’s voice fell. “Despite what everyone believes. I think heroes are much more effective alive.”

  June got up. The night seemed to watch her every move, tracking her, waiting with breath held in the balmy silence.

  Sam’s face was obscured in shadow, but his eyes gleamed. “I have to make some phone calls,” he said. “We’ll try to keep this to ourselves as much as possible, but I need help.”

  His friends had left earlier. Sam hadn’t said anything to them, not even Cindy. Anthony left, too, even more distraught than Sam.

  Wordlessly, she walked into the house, the eyes of the night still on her back.

  The house was deathly quiet. She stood at the bottom of the staircase. Her thoughts ran to a million things, a million ideas, outcomes, worries. A million emotions.

  Dipity sat on the first landing, gazing down at her.

  June climbed the stairs. Dipity streaked past her into the darkened hallway above.

  June didn’t turn on the lights. She stopped outside Sam’s bedroom door. She considered the door across from it, though. Dipity wound around her ankles.

  She reached out and opened the door—the door to the giant master bedroom with the French doors and balcony.

  Light filtered in from the security lights outside. June felt around for a switch, found one, and flipped it. The lamps around the bed and a chandelier in the center of the ceiling switched on. The darkness vanished, making her wince.

  Dipity sat in the middle of the hallway, staring at her. She didn’t move to follow June in.

  “Wise choice,” June said. “You don’t want to watch this.”

  She stepped in the room and pushed the door shut behind her.

  A vanity sat opposite the balcony doors, a massive mirror hanging above it. Toiletries sat on top the vanity. The room was nicer than some of the hotels she’d been camped out in recently.

  She walked across the room to the French doors. Sheer white curtains hung over them. She pushed the curtains back and lifted the latch, and pushed the doors outward.

  The balcony had stone railings. Flowerboxes sat on them, badly in need of tending.

  The grounds spread below her, cloaked mostly in darkness, except where the security lights shone. She stood at the railing. The sky was clear and splashed with stars. The orange glow of the city burned in the distance.

  “Come on then,” she said to the night. “Let’s do this.”

  She turned and walked back through the doors, leaving them open.

  The mirror over the vanity caught her reflection, her form skeletal and pale. She walked over and pulled out the stool beneath it, and sat down.

  The mirror was covered with dust. She wiped it away with her hand, clearing a space big enough to see herself and the room behind her clearly, to see the balcony doors.

  The things on the vanity were meant for guests: lotion, shampoo, soap, cologne. A hairbrush, wrapped in plastic. She picked it up and peeled the plastic off.

  Her face was so gaunt, her lips dark, her eyes burning green as always, though oddly, once again, not with as much intensity as before.

  She started idly brushing her hair. The brush was a good salon-quality one; it deserved some use. Sam was unlikely to have guests again anytime soon.

  Except for one guest, and he arrived shortly.

  A shadow moved outside the doors. Momentarily, the shadow materialized into something more solid, stepping into the light.

  Occam was no vision of the classic romantic vampire. He wore jeans, battered sneakers, and a ratty stained T-shirt. He leaned casually against one of the doors, hip jutted out.

  She paused brushing, and then resumed.

  He gazed at her, silent; finally, he stepped away from the doors and walked across the room toward her.

  She placed the brush on the vanity and watched him in the mirror.

  He stopped behind her and bent down so his face was next to hers. His gray, pale eyes reminded her of Robbie’s, though somehow more sinister. He gently smoothed her hair over her opposite shoulder, baring her neck. He didn’t smell as repulsive as he usually did. Maybe he’d taken a shower for the occasion.

  “You don’t have to invite me in,” he said. “That’s just a fairy tale.”

  “Yet you waited.”

  He continued stroking her hair. His touch made the back of her neck prickle.

  “You’ve been a busy man lately,” she said. “I’m surprised you have the time to watch me.”

  “I didn’t kill them all. I am but one drone in the hive.”

  “You were the one burning out their eyes. You still have the light.”

  He chuckled softly, a flash of fangs peeking out between his cracked lips. “At least Sam knows it’s being put to good use.”

  She tilted her head as his fingers dragged through her hair, pulling it.

  “I want to ask you something,” she said.

  He made a soft sound of assent. His closeness was terrifyingly intimate.

  “Can you get me and Sam inside the Institute?”

  “Where Robbie is.”

  “Yes.” She blinked at their reflection. “Can you get us in there? Get us to him?”

  “He’ll kill Sam.”

  “Maybe. But can you at least get us in there?”

  His eyes glittered. “I can.” He ceased stroking her hair and rested his hand on her shoulder. “We’ve been monitoring his ridiculous antics. He thinks he’s so clever.”

  “If he goes through with what he’s planning, his followers will destroy this city.”

  “What a pity.” Occam stroked his fingertip up the side of her neck along her jugular.

  She pulled away and turned on the stool. “I need to ask two things of you.”

  He stood upright and stepped back. He opened his hands. “Ask.”

  “I want you to get us inside the Institute.”

  He gripped her chin, tilting her face up. “And the other?”

  “I want Jason and Diego returned to me. Safely.” She stared up at him.

  He rubbed her chin with his thumb. “And what do I get in return?”

  She gripped his wrist. He stilled his rubbing. She took his hand, opened his fingers, and pressed her lips to his palm. His skin was rough, and he smelled like something raw and visceral, like—blood?

  “Everything you want,” she whispered.

  He cupped her jaw. She held his arm tight, above his wrist. He was solid, warm, not undead.

  “But not,” she spoke tightly, “until you fulfill both parts of the bargain.”

  His eyes blazed, his gaze cutting through her. She felt fragile under his touch, like he could twist her head off any moment. He could too.

  “How do I know you won’t run away?” he asked. “How am I supposed to trust you?”

  “Where am I going to run from you inside the Institute? Who’s going to protect me? Do you think I’ll run to Robbie?”

  “Your beloved Sam will die at Robbie’s hands. If I take you inside, Robbie will kill him.” He bent down. “I won’t let him kill you, though.”

  She swallowed, staring into his eyes. “We’ll think of something.”

  “No, you won’t, Little Red.” He moved his thumb to her lips and dragged it across them. “But I will do what you ask, both parts, if you promise not to run away from me when the time comes.”

  “I promise,” she whispered.

  “If you do deny me, I’ll rip out Sam’s throat. Do you believe me?”

  She nodded.

  “Then it’s a deal.”

  She drew a deep breath. “This has to happen in the next two days. Robbie is going to kill his brother if he doesn’t join him.”

  “Ah, the seer. Sniveling little thing that he is.” He removed his hand from her face. “Very well. Two days. You must be ready when I come for you. No hesitation. When I say we go, we go.”

  She nodded.

  “I take it you haven’t discussed this with Sam? I can’t imagine he would be happy.”

  “I’m my own woman. I make my own decisions.”

  “Yes, you are. Your strength is what I admire most about you. You’ll make a fine addition.”

  She shuddered. “But I won’t allow you to put your teeth in me until you do what I ask, all of it.”