"Inform the cops I'm responded Priority One."

  "On it," Tac said and cut the line to me. He could have kept it open, but maybe there wasn't much left to say.

  Or maybe, he just didn't want to have to tell me how bad it was.

  "This is not a good idea," Rafe said from beside me. I'd almost forgotten he was there.

  "I like my neighbours," I said.

  "Catalin," he said softly. "Ilya didn't chase us because he knew he could catch us elsewhere. How realistic is it for your building's fire alarm to not activate?"

  Not realistic, I realised. This was a trap.

  I pushed my foot to the floor and drove faster.

  Cat

  Icouldn't get close to the building itself; the road was blocked off. That was probably a good thing if Ilya was waiting up the street for us. But from where we managed to park, the smoke from the fire blotted out the sky above my apartment. There was no way in hell the firies were saving anybody's home.

  I watched in stunned silence, not sure what exactly I was feeling. Dread at the death count? Shock at the brutality of it? An empty feeling that kept getting bigger and bigger, realising everything I owned was going up in literal smoke and there was nothing I could do about it? All of the above.

  "Did Ilya do this?" I asked Rafe, not taking my eyes off the flames licking out of several of the windows.

  "It is just a guess, but yes; either Ilya or someone else from The Involition."

  "This can't just be a coincidence?" I pressed.

  "I doubt it, Catalin. This is how they work."

  "Destroy someone's home when they merely think she might wield magic?"

  "Isolate a target, so she has nowhere to go."

  "That's…" That was devious. That was an intelligent approach. I didn't like the sound of that.

  "That is merely a fraction of what they are capable of," Rafe concluded.

  "What were your instructions regarding me?" I asked.

  His jaw ticked, but he answered. "Approach you, gain your trust, determine if you did in fact wield magic and if so to what degree you had control over it."

  "And then?"

  "Have I not proven I am not doing their bidding for them, Catalin?"

  "You killed a man, inserted yourself into the FBI as if you belonged, and have lied to me more than once, Rafe. Quit avoiding the question. Once you assessed my magic abilities, what were your orders then?"

  He sighed. "Report my findings to The Involition, either bring you in for indoctrination or…"

  "Or?"

  "Eliminate you if you proved a threat."

  Sounded about right for an organisation that burnt people's houses down and didn't care about collateral damage.

  "Okay," I said. "How's the rebellion going for you, Rafe?"

  He stared down at me. I didn't turn to face him; my eyes were on the ambulance crew caring for the lucky survivors. I knew the people being treated were not the entirety of those who would have been in the building. Post the COVID lockdowns, many people just continued to do their jobs from home.

  "She knows."

  "The All-Mother?" I queried. "Ama, you called her."

  He nodded, staring out at the chaotic scene in front of us. "I can feel her calling to me." His fingers worried the bracelet — lotu — on one of his wrists. The vines in his tattoo writhed as the snake stared out from between the leaves, looking frightening.

  "Why doesn't Gio have lotu?" I asked, giving him time to fight whatever the All-Mother was doing. A change of topic was often as good as a break. "You said they allowed you to walk in the sun. Does Gio only go out at night?"

  "Not everyone wears their lotu on their wrists. His may be elsewhere on his body."

  "You're not even trying to blend in, are you, Rafe?" I said, chuckling.

  "If I could, I would spit in her face."

  "So, every time she looks at you — sees those gipsy bracelets on your wrists — she's reminded of what she's done. How's that working out for you exactly?"

  "She used to enjoy my rebellious streak." The smile on his face was sharp and a little twisted. "Pleasure can be found in punishment," he added.

  "Nice," I muttered, turning away. I stared at the blackened husk of my apartment building and decided getting any closer was not going to help anyone. Not the firemen doing their job. Not the ambos working to save people. Not my neighbours and not me. And I was not in the habit of helping the enemy.

  Ilya could rot.

  "Let's get back to Goldie's," I said, climbing back into my car.

  Rafe stood out on the pavement for a moment longer and then quietly followed. Silence engulfed the inside of the Citroen; thick and weighted.

  "Can she override the pact?" I asked as I pulled out, did a U-turn, and slowly made our way out of the now very busy suburb. "Or is it enough to keep you from taking me to them?" Or killing me if I proved a threat. Which, I most certainly was.

  But whether that involved magic or my gun, I wasn't sure yet.

  "It is enough."

  "Are you certain? Because I don't fancy fighting you if you go all killer-vampire on me. I haven't sourced any silver bullets yet. I'd have to pump you full of lead and hope it was enough."

  Rafe's lips quirked up. "Your magia is strong. The pact will hold out against a recall."

  "A recall? That's what she's doing?"

  "A simple return-to-base spell."

  "Can she do more? Something with a bit of a punch?"

  "Of course, she can, Catalin. She is the All-Mother. But to do so would be to reveal how scared she is. She cannot do that in front of her cronies and not expect them to baulk."

  "And baulking in this instance means what exactly?"

  "Pain. Suffering. Both physical and mental. She might have tricked them into letting her rule the roost, but she did not manage to take all of the witches' willpower from them. They can make her life very difficult. She manages to keep them in order through a mechanism of reward and punishment. More are rewarded than punished at any one time, making a coordinated uprising difficult. But should she show her fear, then I suspect they'd take their chance."

  He stared out the window, quiet for a moment.

  "Her rewards might be enjoyable, but her punishments are harsh," he went on, voice subdued. "One does not outweigh the other. She knows this. If she pushes too hard or shows any weakness, they will pounce and she will suffer."

  "So why don't they?"

  "She is very careful to only show strength. And despite their small measure of free will, she still controls their sustenance."

  "Their sustenance? Oh, you mean the vampires."

  "Yes. Without our blood, they would age and wither."

  I screwed up my nose at that. Rafe let out a chuckle.

  "Once you taste it, you will crave only blood, sorgina."

  "Pass," I said, turning down Goldie's drive. "Can you do it, Rafe? Can you hold out against her, even fight her?"

  He turned slightly in his seat and stared at me.

  "She did not allow the banpiro our free will, Catalin. Nor did she allow the otso theirs. The only person who could truly fight Ama is another witch. And even they are trapped by their curse."

  "But I'm not cursed," I said, parking the car and turning the engine off.

  "Not yet and not ever, if I can help it."

  We sat in silence for a moment. Harlee's car was parked up, but she and Brant had taken the rental this morning. Harry was in, the boys out, and Tac's bicycle was still leaning against a curved pane of glass along the front of Banana House.

  "Aren't you scared that I'll attack you?" I finally asked.

  "Catalin, I cannot curse you, I can only scare you. And I am beginning to think not much actually scares you."

  I turned my head and looked at him, but said nothing. I wasn't sure yet whether to trust that earnest look of his.

  "What I can do," he said, "is help you stay free of the curse."

  I stared at him, breathing evenly, searching for that tick in his jaw, a flash of something that revealed the truth in his eyes. Was this the pact making him be honest with me? Or was it something else?

  "You are powerful but untrained," he added. "I can help you there. But I can also make you stronger than Ama."

  "Stronger?" I said.

  He studied my face; searched my eyes like I had been searching his just moments before.

  "Not yet, I think," he murmured. "You're not ready for that."

  "For what?" I pressed.

  Rafe looked up through the windshield at Goldie's. I followed his gaze and saw Harry leaning on the doorjamb, cleaning a fingernail. I rolled my eyes and climbed out of the car.

  "Nice chat, Cat?" Harry asked.

  "Harry," I said warily.

  "Let's get in and you can report."

  "Not much to report on," I told him, but dutifully followed. Rafe stepped lightly behind me, purposely making his footfalls loud enough to hear. I thought he could sneak up on sleeping babies without much effort. But he was putting on a show for the Old Man.

  Harry went to the kitchen and not his office. You could never tell with Harry which way he'd go, but the kitchen meant I wasn't in too much trouble. Harry thought his office was sacrosanct. Little did he know that Tac had it bugged as well.

  Clearly, though, this conversation didn't require secrecy but coffee. He bustled about making a brew, even making enough for Rafe and me as well.

  This was Harry showing he cared. I'd just lost my house, my home, so I got a fresh pot of coffee.

  Pouring myself and Rafe a mug each — Harry's largesse hadn't extended that far — I leaned back against a benchtop and said, "Mongrel Mob's heard nothing about the kids, but Rangi said he'd let me know if it comes up." I didn't bother to say anything about needing the president's permission. "Every contact we've made so far is a dead end."

  "Don't sound so fatalistic, Cat," Harry scolded. "Rome wasn't built in a day after all."

  "You know as well as I, Harry, that we should have found something by now."

  "We found their landing site. DNA evidence of the kids' existence was all over that dock. It's being sorted out now and their identities confirmed."

  "That's good," I said, perking up. "Maybe we can glean something from their personal histories."

  "Doubtful. From what our friendly foreign agency has told us —" he nodded toward Rafe who said nothing "— the kids were all crimes of opportunity. No obvious connections between them. Just snatch-and-runs as each chance appeared."

  "Stocking up, rather than filling an order," I said.

  "That would fit. But it also doesn't help us much." Harry was looking at Rafe. "You don't say a lot, do you, Special Agent Nonpareil?"

  Uh-oh. Harry suspected something was wrong with Rafe. Rightly so, but we couldn't have Rafe ousted just yet. I needed his help and if he got fingered for impersonating an FBI agent — and murder of said FBI agent — he would be locked up and I'd be facing down Ilya and The Involition without him.

  It was right then, right in that moment, that I realised I was going to have to cover up his crimes. God, I felt sick to my stomach.

  I rubbed it absently, only peripherally aware my fingers were tingling like mad. My hands aching.

  "You look a little peakish there, Cat," Harry said from down a long tunnel.

  I don't do panic attacks, but the thought of lying for Rafe, of hiding the atrocities he'd done in the name of The Involition, was clearly sending me on a bender of a panic attack.

  "I need to sit down," I said, my voice sounding rough to my ears.

  It was Rafe who guided me to a chair; Rafe who said something reassuring to Harry; Rafe who fetched me a glass of water and wrapped my buzzing fingers around it.

  I heard the glass shatter as it hit the linoleum floor. But that wasn't all I heard.

  Hello? Can you hear me? Is anybody there?

  "What the fuck?" I muttered.

  I can hear you. You shouldn't use that word.

  Was that a kid? Inside my head?

  "Rafe," I managed to get out.

  Violet eyes blazed and silence engulfed us. "I can only hold this for a few minutes," I heard Rafe saying. "What is it? Is it Ama?"

  The fact he mentioned Ama was alarming. Could she do this? Speak inside my head? And how? I had so many questions, but that kid's voice — high-pitched and not fully formed — kept hounding my concentration.

  Can you help us? Yours is the only brightness I could find. You have to help us!

  "Who are you?" I said aloud.

  My name's Mikel. I'm not alone.

  "Mikel," I repeated as Rafe said with strain, "I have to let the spell go."

  Sound rushed back in like a freight train screaming through a station, but not before I heard the kid say, They're coming back! Find us! You have to find us!

  And then nothing.

  Cat

  Okay, so a kid spoke in my head and I didn't think he was Ama playing tricks on me. But he did have magia, I was sure of it.

  "What the hell, Cat!" Harry said. "You got water all over my trousers." He shook out a leg and hopped around the kitchen of Godlie's.

  Tac rushed into the room. "Cat! Are you okay?" He glared at Rafe and pushed the vampire out of the way to reach my side. "You're looking better."

  Telepathy, I thought and shuddered.

  "Are you going to be sick?" Tac asked, moving out of projectile range.

  "I'm fine."

  "You're losing it, Chief Operative," Harry muttered.

  "It was just a glass," I said, moving to clean up the mess.

  "If the stress is finally getting to you, maybe you should take some time off," Harry suggested harshly.

  "I'm fine," I repeated.

  "You are not fine, Catalin," he growled. "You practically have a seizure in front of me and you think I'll believe you when you say you're fine?"

  "Hey! She just lost her home, Harry!" Tac shouted. "Go easy on her!"

  Harry glowered at Tac and then let out a put-upon sigh.

  "Chief Operative Aguirre, can you assure me this fit of hysterics is due to your apartment building catching fire? Because if you can't, I have to file it with the Director."

  Son of a bitch. "Several of my neighbours didn't make it out alive, Harry. What do you think?"

  He stared at me. Then, "I didn't know you cared about other people, Cat."

  Arsehole.

  Rafe cleared his throat, reminding us all that a foreign agent was witnessing our little familial spat.

  "Just an observation," he said, "but you all seem a little crazy to me. Catalin, the least crazy of all of you as far as I'm concerned." He stared down Harry. "What sort of manager treats their staff in such a way after a serious crime has been committed against them?" He then turned that fiery gaze on Tac. "And what sort of tactical officer fails to update the manager on the hard work said agent has undertaken? You did tell Deputy Director Markham that Catalin has been up since dawn chasing down your leads and placing herself in ever-increasing dangerous situations, did you not?"

  That was a slight exaggeration, but I appreciated what he was doing. Everyone's attention was on him and not me now. It allowed me a moment to get myself sorted and to try and work out whose voice in my head that had been.

  Of course, there was one obvious answer. But those kids were all human. Weren't they?

  "Now listen here, Agent Nonpareil!" Harry growled.

  "You have been ordered to assist us, Deputy Director Markham," Rafe snapped. "To work with us. Chief Operative Aguirre has been nothing but cooperative and helpful. A dedicated agent who has only one goal in mind: To save those children. Many of whom are American citizens, if you'd care to remember. If the NCB is not up to the task assigned to them, then the FBI will find someone else to aid us in returning those children to their families. Your choice, Deputy Director. But be assured, your failure to support your own staff will be documented in my report to Washington."

  Harry blustered for a few moments longer but in the end, he was no match for the vampire. He said a few indistinct words about continued international cooperation and escaped the kitchen to lock himself in his office and straighten up some pens.

  "Not cool, man," Tac told Rafe and exited the kitchen with far more dignity than the elder agent had.

  "Come on," I said, pushing up from the chair I'd somehow landed back in. "Let's get something to eat."

  We left Banana House and Tac's prying eyes and ears and drove to a cafe in Wadestown. I wasn't hungry. I still felt sick. Whatever magia had been used to talk to that kid telepathically had drained me though, so when the hot bowl of soup I ordered was placed in front of me, I found myself shovelling in mouthfuls between chunks of fresh crusty bread.

  When my stomach settled from the queasy sensation of a boat being tossed about on a stormy sea, I leaned back and looked at Rafe.

  "What did you do back there?" I asked.

  He'd attacked his soup with less gusto, but surprisingly, he had attacked it. Vampires did eat normal food, then.

  "I stopped time." Fuck me. "If I had simply shielded us, then Harry would have wondered where we'd disappeared to. And using maskara on both of them would have drained me. There are limits to my power." Said bitterly.

  "What's maskara exactly?" I asked.

  "Compulsion. Make them think they saw something else."

  "And if it'd just been Harry?"

  "Maskara is better than stopping time." He finished his soup and started on a salad. He was hungry, I realised. Ravenous.

  He didn't ask. He was too busy eating; refueling, I thought. But he wanted to know. My gut told me that much. And as I had no idea what really had happened, why or how it had, I saw no reason to keep it from him.

  I had just decided I needed him, hadn't I?

  "Someone spoke to me inside my head," I said.

  "Not Ama," he guessed. If it had been Ama, would I have been brain-dead?

  "Not Ama," I agreed. "A kid. And why aren't you surprised someone spoke to me inside my head?"

  He looked up from his half-finished salad. "I am surprised. It is a talent I had not been aware you possessed."