I showed Beck how to use the phone—just the basics—then gave him a list of names that might appear on the screen when I called, just in case something went wrong with my dad’s phone.

“Okay, keep it plugged in somewhere where the children can’t reach it—” fortunately, most of the small ones couldn’t fly very well yet “—and don’t answer it unless the call is from someone on that list.” I’d left a very comprehensive list, but knowing my luck, some college friend I hadn’t heard from all year would pick this week to try to get reacquainted, and wind up talking to a thunderbird in New Mexico instead.

That would be fun to explain.

“How long will it take you to get to the ranch?” Marc asked, as one of the other birds carried the phone through an open doorway.

“We will need twenty-four hours’ notice, to account for rests in flight and recuperation before the fight,” the old woman said, and I wondered if she’d be fighting alongside her younger relatives.

I nodded. A day’s notice. We could do that.

When everything was settled, I took one last longing glance at my phone, now plugged into an outlet in a badly outdated kitchen, then let Cade—or maybe Coyt—ferry me to the road. The return trip was no less pleasant than the flight up to the nest, but when we’d all three landed on the ground safe and sound, I decided to count our blessings. No one got maimed or killed, and we’d secured air support for the upcoming fight. Which, with any luck, would give us the advantage we needed, even if Malone’s men outnumbered us. And they surely would.

We froze all the way back to the car, but once we had the heater going full blast, I called my uncle to make a report.

“Hello?” he said, by way of a greeting, his voice leery with suspicion. And that’s when I realized that his caller ID had probably showed my father’s name.

“It’s me. Sorry. I had to leave my phone with the thunderbirds, so I’m using my dad’s. I have good news and bad news. Which do you want first?”

My uncle chuckled, obviously relieved, and his laugh sounded eerily like my mother’s. “I’ll take them in order of importance.”

But even that was tough to determine, so he got chronological order. “The bad news is that the thunderbirds won’t do recon for us, as I’d hoped.”

“That’s too bad. It was a good thought, though. What’s the good news? They’ve committed to the fight?”

“Enthusiastically,” I said, as Jace turned off the birds’ gravel road and onto the highway. “They’re scary-eager.”

“Wow. Okay.” His surprise was obvious, as was his relief. “So, how many are coming?”

I grinned at both of the guys in the rearview mirror. “Twenty. They’re drawing quills to see who gets the honor. And every last one of them is eager to shed tyrannical blood for us.”

I was ready to shed more than a little of it myself.

Thirty

“I could try Alex,” Jace said, reclining on the motel bed with his arms crossed behind his head. “But honestly, I think you’d have better luck with that than I would.”

“Not after I took his gun and left him tied up under the bed.” The memory made me smile as I leaned back in the chair and propped my feet on the rickety breakfast table. “I think the only other possible source we have on the inside is Kenton. He seemed less than thrilled to be playing his part, and I think he’s feeling guilty. Parker might be able to work that to our favor.”

“I think—” Marc paused, rolling his eyes while an airplane engine roared overhead, momentarily drowning out all other sound.

Our return flight didn’t leave until nearly six in the morning, which left us with a good eight hours to kill. Not enough time to drive instead, but too much to waste in an airport bar when we could be resting and mentally preparing for the coming battle.

When the plane had passed, Marc shoved my feet off the table and dropped into the chair next to me. “I think we’re missing the most obvious possibility. Maybe we shouldn’t be looking for a source on the inside, but a source on the outside.”

“Meaning…?” I was tired from all the travel and stiff from my recent beating, even after the Shifting marathon, and would have loved to lie down—but the room had two beds. Jace had claimed one, and Marc’s duffel lay on the end of the other. I couldn’t take a nap without making an all caps DECLARATION, and they both knew it. At this rate, I’d wind up sleeping in the bathtub.

“Meaning we don’t have to talk to someone on the ranch to find out whether or not Malone’s there. Wouldn’t it be easier for Jace to just call his mother?”

I raised an eyebrow at Marc. “That’s not a bad idea.” I twisted toward Jace in the hard chair, wishing for a pillow. “You think she’ll fall for that again?”

“I don’t know. She’s in denial, but she’s not brain-dead. She knows I used her last time, and she knows the basics about what happened to Lance Pierce. She may not know the whole story behind Dean’s pretty new face, but she probably knows I was involved.”

“None of that matters,” Marc insisted. “She’s your mother, and she’s already lost one son. She’s not going to give up the chance to reconnect with her firstborn, even knowing he’s using her. Look at Ryan and your mom.” Marc glanced at me briefly, then turned back to Jace. “Karen’s one of the smartest, most insightful women I’ve ever met, but she has a total blind spot where Ryan’s concerned, even knowing what he did. Your mom has to know deep down that whatever Malone told her about you isn’t true. She’ll talk to you.”