Liam kept his eyes on the angel. “You sure about that?”

“We’re sure,” another voice echoed across the room from the stairway.

It was Burke, descending the stairs in his gray fatigues.

He reached the floor, smiled apologetically at us. “Hey, Claire, Liam.”

“I’d like someone to explain what, exactly, is going on here,” I said. “Who’d like to start?”

“I’ll do the introductions,” Burke said. “Liam Quinn and Claire Connolly. This is Darby Craig, our resident biologist, formerly of PCC Research. You know me.” He gestured to the angel. “And this is Malachi, a general of the Consularis army.”

I looked at Malachi, took in the height, the hair color. “You were at the Landreaus’ home. You’re the Para I saw in the garden.”

He nodded. “Yes. I was watching them.”

“Why?”

“I’d been in the neighborhood, walking, keeping an eye out for those who might need help. I saw two Containment vehicles speed by. I followed them, discovered why they’d been called, and wanted a look at the grounds for myself, just in case.”

“She said you were a general,” Liam said. “You were conscripted?”

“I was.”

“And did you fight?”

Malachi’s expression remained blank. “I was not allowed to fight. I was imprisoned, used, and for a period, tortured. But I did not fight.”

I glanced at Burke, and my expression wasn’t friendly. I could respect sneakiness. But not if he’d hurt Tadji. “You’re next. Explain.”

“I’m a Sensitive, and I’ve been looking for others. I didn’t know your father, but I knew he was a Sensitive. Sometimes it’s genetic, so I wanted to check you out.”

It was a good thing Liam had told me about my father; otherwise, I’d be finding out here, in an abandoned sugar refinery. “And?”

Burke smiled. “I’m not yet sure. If you’ve got something, you’ve been keeping it quiet.”

“I am a Sensitive,” I said. “Eight months in. I can move things.”

“That’s handy,” Burke said, eyes alight with interest.

“It has its moments.” Some good, some bad. But speaking of interest . . . “What’s your interest in Tadji?”

His smile softened. It was a pretty good smile. “A beautiful coincidence. I wanted to get closer to you. But I wanted to ask her to dance.”

Not entirely a compliment to me, but he looked like he was telling the truth.

“What’s your power?” I asked.

“This,” he said.

I’d visited a carnival with friends in junior high, had walked through the Haunted House of Mysterious Mirrors on a dare. It wasn’t that haunted, and there weren’t that many mirrors—three or four that distorted our reflections, so we looked taller or wider or stockier with superlong legs.

Burke’s body warped just like that—ripples that moved up and down his legs, torso, and arms as if he were standing in front of a carnival mirror. Except there was no mirror. And then suddenly, there was no Burke.

He’d disappeared.

I stared at the now-empty spot where he’d stood, walked forward, peered into the gap where he’d been. There was nothing there.

And when he grabbed my wrist, I nearly backhanded him. There were more ripples, and then he shimmered back into focus, his hand on my arm, grinning like a maniac.

I just stared at him. “Invisibility. That’s pretty amazing.”

He let go of my arm, shifted his gaze back to Liam. “It’s actually just camouflage on a really detailed level.”