“Oh,” said Sarah, looking oddly disappointed. She swiveled back around to me. “You should hurry and find the missing kids. The dragons are really upset. If you don’t find them soon, they’re liable to make you leave, no matter what they said just now, and they’ll make the rest of the family go, too. That would be bad.”

  “Yes, it would,” I agreed, as she turned and walked out of the room without another word. I sighed, leaning against Thomas. “Okay, I guess it’s time for us to pull a miracle out of our asses.”

  “Nothing new about that,” he said, and kissed the top of my head.

  “No, I guess not,” I said.

  Sixteen

  “We make monsters whenever we disagree about how a limited resource should be spent. It’s so much easier to kill a person whose personhood you’ve stolen away.”

  —Thomas Price

  Manhattan, standing inside a former slaughterhouse filled with dragons, trying to figure out how to accomplish the impossible

  SO: WE HAD LIMITED resources, including two people who were almost entirely out of synch with the present day, and myself, who had never bothered to become intimately acquainted with the way the modern world worked, since I’d had bigger things to worry about. Like finding a man who’d been thrown into another dimension by a cosmic force of being a giant asshole, and keeping myself from getting killed in the process.

  Sarah was off the board, thanks to the telepathy limiters and whatever had happened to leave her so withdrawn. Normally I wouldn’t say personal trauma was a good-enough reason for someone to stay benched when kids were in danger, but Sarah’s a cuckoo. Pushing her when she doesn’t feel stable enough to be in the field could have really bad consequences, for everybody.

  I don’t like treating my grandkids like they might be dangerous, but they could be, every single one of them. Even Artie, loath as he generally is to leave his room. We don’t raise harmless children in this family. And maybe that’s the way I did grow up to be my father. I didn’t have much say in the way Laura brought up Kevin and Jane, but the expectation that they’d take after my mother had still traveled with me every time I’d come to visit during their childhoods. In my way, I gave them as little of a choice as my dad gave me. If they wanted my approval, they’d show me they were ready to survive in a world whose dangers I was all too intimately acquainted with.

  Kevin had always been more enthusiastic about knife training and field work, had always been more eager to impress me and make sure I knew that he was still my son, even if he only saw me once or twice a year. Who would Jane have grown up to be, without the constant need to impress a mother who was more absence than attendance?

  Could she have been happy?

  So no, Sarah wasn’t really on the table for this one. I didn’t know how much field work Verity was feeling up for, with Olivia still so young. If Verity was anything like her own father, she’d have a much stronger parental instinct than I ever had, and she’d want to protect her child above everything else. But Dominic could still help us if she couldn’t, and if he wasn’t up for going into the field, he could stay behind and babysit. We wouldn’t be going into this without any backup. Just with limited backup, which was nothing new, and would probably be more comfortable for Sally and Thomas, neither of whom were used to the current family dynamic.

  As if I was. These people weren’t quite strangers to me, but they were close enough that I needed to stop thinking of myself as being the one who had all the answers. I didn’t. Thinking that way was only going to get people hurt.

  The door creaked slightly as someone eased it open. All three of us turned to watch as Verity peeked around the edge, looking unaccountably relieved to find us standing there, considering our options, and not covered in blood or something.

  “Sarah said you were going to go looking for the missing dragons,” she said. “I wanted to check and see if there was anything you needed from me before you went.”

  That answered the question of whether or not she was feeling up for field work. As if she were the telepath, rather than Sarah, her lips drew downward in a frown and she stepped the rest of the way into the room, letting the door swing ease behind her.

  “I’d go with you, but Livvy gets fussy when I’m out of her sight for too long,” she said. “Mary says this is a normal developmental stage, and that she’s better about it than some kids her age, since she has people around her all the time, but I still shouldn’t go into an active combat situation with you. I’m sorry.”

  “Sweetheart, it’s fine,” I said. “Please don’t feel bad about needing to stay here and take care of your child. It’s understandable.”

  “But you went into the field when Dad was Livvy’s age,” she said, doggedly. “I should be able to do the same thing.”

  My stomach twisted, feeling uncomfortably as if it wanted to flip all the way over. I swallowed to hide my discomfort, glancing at Thomas.

  “Your grandmother’s situation was somewhat unique,” he said, putting a hand on my shoulder, Sally between us, standing silent and watchful as a stone. “There’s no obligation for any new parent to feel up to risking their lives for the lives of others.”

  “But if you don’t find them, everything we’ve been working for falls apart,” she protested. “The dragons are furious. They can see the logic of what you were saying—something about hairstyles?—but they still want someone to blame, and it’s always easiest when you can shove the blame on someone outside your community. Outside your species is just a bonus. So they’re willing to cut off all contact with humans over this, if it doesn’t end the way we all want it to.”

  “You said there are three confirmed strike teams, with a fourth that may or may not be made up of members of the first three,” I said. “You also said there were approximately twenty operatives that you knew of, in total. Which division makes the most sense, given those numbers?”

  “Unless things have changed rather dramatically since my time, the smallest units the Covenant fields normally have three to five members,” said Thomas. “Large enough that you can lose someone without losing the battle at hand, but also small enough that losing a team is unlikely to completely destroy a complex operation.”

  “Dominic says four teams is most likely,” said Verity, uncomfortably. “He’d like to go with you, if you’d be willing to have him.”

  That explained her discomfort. I’d never been a big fan of Thomas going off to fight things without me, and the only reason it hadn’t been more of an issue for us was that during the officially romantic portion of our relationship, he’d been confined to the house. Meaning he’d been the one who had to get comfortable with the idea of me running off into danger without him around to watch my back.

  “We’d be glad to,” said Thomas. “None of us is exactly a local, and it would be good to have someone who knows the city.”

  “Especially since not everyone shares your arboreal tendencies,” I said, as warmly as I could manage. Verity mustered a smile. I returned it. “And it’ll be nice for Thomas and me to spend some time getting to know our latest grandson.”

  “To be honest, I’m happy to get to know any of my grandchildren, born or married in,” said Thomas, a little wryly. “I didn’t expect I’d ever had the chance to meet any of you, and knowing your grandmother, there was more than half a chance your parents wouldn’t have reached adulthood.”

  “Hey!” I protested.

  Sally and Verity snickered, briefly united in mocking my questionable parenting skills. Thomas shrugged, unrepentant.

  “I love you dearly, but in the time we had together, we both know I was the one who made sure Kevin had clean clothes and washed his hands, while you were the one who forgot that knives aren’t appropriate toys for children,” he said.

  Verity looked between us with wide eyes. “Dad is starting to make so much more sense,” she said.

  I snorted.

  “Sorry to interrupt this delightful look into the history of my new family, but weren’t we supposed to be moving by now?” Sally folded her arms. “Honestly, with the way you people like to talk, it’s a miracle you ever got around to having kids, much less selling your souls to the crossroads and winding up in horrible bottle dimensions.”

  “That’s specific,” said Verity.

  “The mice will tell you all about it,” I said. “Sally’s right. We need to go. I know you’re not coming, and I know Sarah’s not coming, but is anyone else actually going to come along with us as backup?”

  “The dragons are refusing,” said Verity. “They don’t trust you. They also don’t want you looking for their children alone, so Istas and Ryan will be going with you.”

  “Istas . . . isn’t that the waheela you used to work with?”

  She nodded, looking pleased that I’d remembered. “Yup, and Ryan’s her husband. He’s a tanuki. They make it work.”

  “Okay. Cool.” I pushed my hair back with one hand. “Where are we leaving from?”

  “Come on. I’ll show you.” She turned to leave the room.

  The rest of us followed.

  * * *

  Ever since she was a little kid, Verity had been drawn to the highest point in her environment. My grandparents used to joke about me pursuing an arboreal lifestyle, with as much time as they spent fishing me out of trees, but compared to her, I had always kept my feet firmly on the ground. If she had a life motto, it was probably “I can climb that.”

  It’s normal for the Aeslin mice to play around with titles for a little while after a new baby is born to the family, since we can’t really know what kind of person someone is going to be until they’ve had a little time to grow into themselves. Verity was dubbed the Arboreal Priestess by the time she turned three, and there has never, to the best of my knowledge, been any clerical question of changing that.

  Taking all that into consideration, it probably shouldn’t have been a surprise when Verity led us up three flights of stairs to the slaughterhouse roof, which had been partially converted into a rooftop garden, complete with herb beds, a pigeon coop, and several boxy things I thought were probably beehives. It managed to surprise me all the same. Sometimes the least surprising things manage to turn themselves around and become the most surprising of all.

  Three people were already up there, waiting for us: Dominic, now wearing charcoal-gray leggings and a matching turtleneck, the Inuit woman I’d seen before, who had changed into a rose-pink-and-cherry-red confection of a dress, including matching shoes and parasol, pink-streaked black hair tied up in curled pigtails, and the man whose lap she’d been sitting on downstairs, whose clothing matched Dominic’s. All three looked over at our approach, Dominic stepping forward to meet us.

  “Are they ready?” he asked.

  “I’d ask why you were so sure we’d be going, but that would just waste time, so instead I’m going to ask how we’re supposed to get down from here,” I said. “Even if I were big on parkour, which I’m not, Sally’s had no training in jumping off buildings, and Thomas is out of practice.”

  “I assume you can all handle a ten-foot drop?” Verity gestured over the edge of the roof. “The nightclub next door belongs to venture capitalists who reinforced the hell out of the place in order to get away with violating noise ordinances on a nightly basis. I’m not really sure how they expected that to be cost-effective, but whatever, I’m not a rich twenty-something who made it big in tech. Anyway, jump down to there and you’ll be fine. They won’t hear you land, and if you cross to the back of the building, there’s a fire escape that goes all the way to the ground on the block behind this one. Unless someone’s there and looking up when you exit, they won’t see you leave.”

  “Verity is trustworthy on the matter of exiting via overland routes,” said Istas, almost serenely. “Her acquaintance with the ground is fleeting at best.”

  “We have roughly another four hours of daylight,” said Dominic.

  “Do you have any idea where these teams are based?” asked Thomas. “They won’t all be clustered together. That would be bad operational security.”

  “There’s one in Hoboken, on the other side of the river,” said Dominic. “We think there’s another in Brooklyn. The third is likely somewhere in Midtown. They may be based out of a hotel, or doing a long-term lease on one of the illegal sublets that people advertise online. But they won’t bring a bunch of kidnapped children back to the place they’re living and operating out of, they’ll have secured a separate location or locations.”

  “The fact that you listed those three areas first tells me you think they have the children somewhere in the fourth,” said Thomas. “Where would that be?”

  Dominic actually looked faintly guilty before squaring his shoulders in an almost-military posture, turning to Thomas, and saying, “The East Village, sir. We’ve based our assumptions off verified activity and where it seems to be centered. There are too many incidents in that area to explain by assigning them to the other teams. It would make sense for the fourth team to be based there.”

  “We’ve both retired from the Covenant, son,” said Thomas, voice gentle. “I’m not your superior. You don’t need to hesitate before you speak to me, and you don’t need me to approve of your ideas before they can be voiced. You know this city and we don’t. We’re following you into the field.”

  Dominic glanced to Verity, then Istas and Ryan, as if looking for confirmation. When all of them nodded, he returned his attention to Thomas, standing a little taller and a little less rigid at the same time. “We’ve spotted an agent we believe to be a woman named Margaret Healy with the team in the East Village. More than anything else, that makes me believe they’re the central command. Margaret has been dispatched to New York before, and as you say, knowledge of the territory is essential if you want to succeed in your mission.”

  “Then we go to the East Village,” I said. “Just show us how to get there.”

  “That, I will do,” said Istas, and stepped up onto the edge of the building. Ryan hurried after her and actually jumped down first. She turned to face us and fell backward off the ledge a moment later, as nonchalantly as if she plummeted off buildings every day. Which maybe she did. I’ve never spent much social time with a waheela; I don’t know what they do for fun.

  Dominic was the next over the edge, pausing to kiss Verity on the cheek before he went. I followed him, getting a running start. I’m not necessarily afraid of falling, but I’ve always found it just a little easier if I’m moving quickly when it happens. Like making my own carnival ride, only you don’t need a ticket and there’s no safety rail.

  Ryan was standing with Istas in his arms when I landed next to them, having apparently caught her before her impractical shoes could cause a problem. He set her on her feet as I straightened, and she turned a small, satisfied smile on me.

  “It is a pleasure to finally meet you, Alice-Verity’s-grandmother,” she said, politely.

  “Nice to meet you, too,” I said, more wary than polite.

  “We don’t have many grandparents among my kind.”

  “No?”

  “Istas, be nice,” said Ryan.

  Her smile became more of a snarl, showing me all of her strong, white, human-seeming teeth. “We eat them before they can become too much of a burden to the rest of us. So I lack Verity’s sympathy for your role in her family.”

  Dominic started to protest. Istas raised a hand to quiet him. He stopped.

  There was a soft thump as Thomas landed on the roof. I didn’t allow myself to turn and look at him. Istas was a predator. A predator in a fluffy, lacy dress, but a predator all the same. Turning my back on her might be the last thing I ever did.

  “I would like you to explain, please, why grandparents are necessary.”

  “We know things,” I said, keeping my voice steady. “We’ve been around to learn more than someone younger might know. And sometimes we can be a little set in our ways, especially for people who are used to newer methods of doing things, but sometimes, the old way is the right way, because no one sees it coming. And because we’re family.”

  Sally squeaked as she hit the roof, a small sound, quickly swallowed, but audible.

  “Family needs family. It’s not always about blood—Thomas and I aren’t blood, and Sally isn’t blood to either of us—but it’s about knowing where you belong, and feeling like you’ll be welcome there. Verity’s our family. That means she needs us.” I paused before venturing a guess: “I get the feeling Verity’s your family, too, and that’s why you’re so concerned about whether or not we’re good for her. I can’t promise we’ll always make her happy, but I can promise that we’ll always love her, and that we’re just here to help.”

  That seemed to satisfy Istas. She turned without another word, walking across the roof toward the promised fire escape. Ryan shot me a helpless, half-adoring look. The adoration was in no way for me.

  “She can be a little intense sometimes, sorry about that,” he said, and took off after her.

  I waited until he was halfway across the roof before letting out a shaky breath and looking toward Dominic.

  “That happen often?”

  “No,” he said, shaking his head. “Istas is the first waheela—the only waheela—I’ve had the pleasure of knowing. They’re not found in Europe, and Covenant attempts at study and extermination have not historically ended very well.”

  “I wouldn’t think so,” said Thomas. To Sally, he added, “Waheela are therianthropes—natural shapeshifters. When it pleases her, our Miss Istas is likely to be somewhere between ten and twelve feet tall and capable of throwing motor vehicles, as well as resembling a hybrid of a dire wolf and a grizzly bear.”

  Sally blinked, looking momentarily nonplussed. Then she shrugged. “Okay,” she said, like this was perfectly normal, and started across the roof after Ryan and Istas.

  Thomas, Dominic, and I hurried to catch up.