"The longer you fight me, the longer it's going to take to make this call." Again, regret dogged the words. It was a perfectly logical thing to say, and it came out sounding perfectly condescending, like when a kid got frustrated and the teacher made him sit in the corner with a singsong "when you can behave, you can rejoin the class."

Robyn slid back in her seat. Her arms started to fold, then she thought better of it and let them fall by her sides.

When Finn hesitated, watching her, she said, "Place your call, Detective."

Damon leapt into the passenger seat, making Finn jump.

"Put 'er in reverse and peel rubber," Damon said. "They're on the way out."

Finn backed from the lot.

Robyn shot forward again. "What the hell are you doing? They're still in there."

"Whoa, Finn," Damon said. "Talk to her."

Finn explained quickly as he found a spot to wait and watch.

" Who's coming out?" Robyn demanded.

"Hope, Karl and that guy," Damon said, and Finn relayed.

Damon climbed into the backseat. "What'd you do to her?"

"Nothing."

"You did something. She's furious."

"Are Adams and Marsten coming out as hostages?" he asked.

"Change the subject, huh? No. They appeared to be with him willingly. I think stopping here was a trap for those SWAT guys. They rescued Karl and disabled his captors."

"Disabled?"

"Knocked out. Tranquilizer guns." Damon's attention turned back to assessing his wife. Par for the course, but Finn had been with Damon long enough now to know he'd turned away a little too fast.

"What else?" Finn asked.

"I counted five guys in those SWAT uniforms, all unconscious now. There's one suit, too. And a woman. A bystander, I think, but she's okay."

"I meant what else did you find? What aren't you telling me?"

"Hmm?" He looked up. "That's it. I'm just... still processing, I guess. Tranquilizer guns. This is truly some weird shit going on, Finn... oh, there they are."

Through a stand of trees, Finn watched the trio head for a car.

"Robyn?"

"Hmm?" Polite, but cool. A petty grudge might be beneath her, but from her tone, Finn knew he'd slid from ally to enemy. Or at least obstacle.

"That guy." He pointed. "Is that Rhys?"

She moved along her seat to the window. "Yes."

"Da – Uh, David?"

"Nice save," Damon said, with a look that warned him against slipping again.

"Go with them," Finn said. "This time, if you lose me, keep going. Get their final destination, then rendezvous here."

HOPE

Once they'd gotten rid of the Cabal tail and Karl was free, Rhys apparently considered their partnership at an end.

He assured Hope and Karl that he'd look after Adele and find a way to clear Robyn's name. Hope told him where he could shove his assurances – she wasn't leaving him until she had Adele.

It took some negotiating, but he finally agreed Adele could be tried by the council, as long as Hope and Karl played bodyguard on his kumpania visit, which she suspected was what he'd hoped for all along.

When they left the medical offices, Karl was behind the wheel, Rhys in the passenger seat, Hope in the back.

On the way Rhys finally decided to tell them about the kumpania. Maybe that had something to do with Karl pulling over on Mulholland Drive and demanding to know everything before he went any farther, the looming cliff edge an unspoken echo to his earlier threat.

"Kumpania," Rhys said. "It's a Romany name."

"Gypsy?" Hope asked.

"Right. The original members likely were, and the current bulibasha, Niko, claims to be a direct descendent."

"Bulibasha?"

"Leader. Romany again. Supposedly the kumpania started in the Old World and came to the New World fleeing the pogroms. The kumpania likes its mythology. No one much cares how accurate it is, as long as it's a good story."

"And everyone in the kumpania is a clairvoyant?"

He directed Karl to take the next turn. "A full clairvoyant manifesting powers. The kumpania was created for two express and interconnected purposes: preservation of the bloodline and preservation of the power. Preservation of power includes strengthening it through training and avoiding the curse of madness."

"Can they do that?"

He took off his ball cap and raked his fingers through his hair. "They've found that elusive happy medium, which works for most. And if it doesn't? The kumpania doesn't permit deviations from its core principles."

"You think they kill anyone who shows signs of going mad?"

"The kumpania presents itself as a community idealizing clairvoyant life. But they have more in common with a cult than with a commune, including strict indoctrination, severe restrictions on their members' movements and the willingness to kill to protect the community. Which is why Adele has no qualms about killing cops. It's the kumpania way. Preservation of self at all costs." He set his cap on the seat. "Which is not to excuse what she's done. The kumpania isn't a cult of murderers. In her case, it's merely a mitigating factor, something to consider."

"Which the council will."

He nodded and went quiet. That was all the information she needed and, she presumed, all they were getting. But after a moment, he went on.

"The second concern of the kumpania is the preservation of the bloodline. All kumpania children have two fully clairvoyant parents. That inbreeding, though, causes genetic problems, so they regularly infuse the bloodline with outside clairvoyants – durjardo. That's where I came in."

Karl had slowed as the road narrowed. Rhys waved for him to keep going.

"I joined the navy right out of high school," Rhys continued. "As a boy I was into Boy Scouts, Sea Cadets, the Junior Reserves... I had this fantasy of growing up to be a Navy SEAL, using my clairvoyance to protect my country. It didn't work out. That's when I met Neala, Colm's mother. Not a coincidence, as I figured out years later. The kumpania has ways of finding suitable candidates. I was ripe for the picking. A young man, angry and lost, meeting a pretty girl, another clairvoyant, who brought me home to this amazing group that welcomed me and promised a life of balance and sanity. You can't understand how important that can be."