Sarah’s eyes were still closed. I put my hand on her shoulder and waited, feeling like an ingénue in a bad horror movie. At any moment, the Covenant would burst out of their hiding places and take us out, and no matter how hard I fought, there was no way I’d be able to hold them all off. We’d be overwhelmed, and no one would ever find our bodies—

“Very? You there?”

“I’m here.”

“The coast is clear outside the slaughterhouse. If you can get up to street level, I can cover you.”

“We’re on our way.” I shoved the phone back into my pocket and took hold of Sarah’s arm, pulling her to her feet. “Come on. We need to go.”

She opened her eyes, the last of the glow dying from her pupils as she turned to look at me. “Is it safe?”

“We’ll find out. This way.”

I led her out of the station and up the stairs to street level. Uncle Mike was standing in front of the tiny bodega that connected to the Nest. I wanted to run to him. Instead, I walked at a conservative pace, pulling Sarah along with me. When he saw us, he nodded and stepped back inside, holding the door open until we got there. We followed him in, and he closed the door behind us. We were safe at last . . . for now. The question was, what were we going to do to make sure we stayed that way?

Fourteen

“The worst thing in the world is burying family. The second worst thing is telling somebody else that they’ll have to do it.”

—Enid Healy

The Meatpacking District, which is nicer than it sounds, inside a converted warehouse that’s sort of beginning to resemble a clown car with all these people in it

ISTAS AND RYAN WERE WAITING for us in the main room of the slaughterhouse. Ryan looked concerned. Istas looked faintly bored, and was chewing on something that looked suspiciously like the bottom half of a rat. I decided that asking would be a bad idea if I ever wanted to eat again.

“The Covenant is staying at Sarah’s hotel, so Sarah’s staying with us now,” I announced.

“Are you both okay?” asked Uncle Mike.

Sniffling, Sarah shook her head. Then she nodded. Then she shook her head again.

I came to the rescue, saying, “We’re shaken up, but we’re fine. Ryan, do you want to show Sarah to one of the open offices, so she can put down her things? She’s going to be here until all of this is taken care of. It’s not safe for her to go back to her hotel.” It wasn’t safe for her to go back to any hotel, if the Covenant had charms that could block her telepathy. That was the only natural defense she had.

“On it,” said Ryan. He offered Sarah a faintly bemused smile, clearly not sure why she looked familiar. “Can I take your bags?”

“Okay,” whispered Sarah. She handed him the backpack with her school books and homework in it, and I handed him her suitcase. She kept hold of her laptop, still hugging it against her chest like a talisman. Then she wandered off after Ryan, following him toward the nearest set of stairs. Istas followed them, still chewing on her probably-a-rat. That was good. I wanted a few minutes alone with Uncle Mike.

The two of us stood silently until Sarah and the others were up the stairs. Then he turned to me, and said, “Report?”

“I reached the roof of Sarah’s hotel without incident. She came and let me in. We went down the stairs, and were met in the hall by Margaret Healy, who was warded against Sarah’s telepathy. Someone must have warned her that she might be dealing with a psychic.” Someone like Dominic. I should have been more suspicious from the very start—but then again, hindsight is the only perfect vision. “Margaret arrived at the door to Sarah’s room while we were trying to clear out. She picked the lock, and once she was inside, she started demanding to know where I was. Sarah was trying to convince her that I was already gone when my phone rang—shit, my phone. I still don’t know who called.” I reached for my pocket.

“Stick to the main narrative,” said Uncle Mike, holding up a hand to stop me. “What happened then?”

“Margaret realized Sarah had been lying about me, and started to move deeper into the room. So Sarah hit her from behind with a vase and knocked her out.” I allowed myself a small smile. “It was pretty darn brave of her.”

“She’s had some good examples,” said Uncle Mike. “Then what?”

“I searched Margaret for weapons and tied her up as best I could with a roll of electrical tape from my bag.” There was an empty card table nearby. I shrugged off my backpack and walked over to it. “I haven’t had a chance to see what all I got from her.”

“Show and tell was always my best class.”

I dropped my bag on the table. “Then let’s study.”

Margaret had been carrying over a dozen knives, three guns—two pistols, and one mousegun that had been concealed in her sock—a garrote, a blowgun, and a variety of darts, some of which had tiny corks on them to keep her from getting scratched. I handled those with the utmost care.

“Is that everything?” asked Mike, picking up one of the knives.

“Not quite.” I pulled out a set of brass knuckles and a lead-filled sap, dropping them on the pile. “That’s it. Well, that, and this. She had it around her neck.” I reached into my pocket and produced her anti-telepathy charm, holding it up for him to see.

Mike whistled, long and low. “That’s some serious hoodoo. You think she made it herself?”

There are a few spellbooks and grimoires in the family library. Rumor has it they all used to belong to Grandpa Thomas, which explains how he was able to make a deal with one of the Netherworlds before he disappeared. No one in the family has messed around with magic since. We Prices may be foolhardy, but we’re not stupid. “I don’t know,” I said. “If she’s a witch, she didn’t show it—and she was wearing the charm, which would have messed with any magic she was planning to use.”

“I’d have expected a tattoo, not a necklace, if she wasn’t the crafter.”

“Unless they wanted her to be able to take it off,” I said. “Maybe they’ve started using empaths to prevent more defections.” There are at least eight naturally empathic cryptid species, and some of them are human enough—or harmless enough—that the Covenant might be willing to let them live if they seemed to be useful. It wouldn’t be the best life for a unicorn or a cofgod, but it would be a life, and that was more than the Covenant was usually inclined to offer their kind.