It whirred to life, a blue screen flickering with white symbols that looked like text. Moses raced his fingers, each tipped by a long, triangular nail, over the keys with audible clicks, and the images on the screen blurred by.

CONTAINMENT-NET scrolled across the top in block letters.

I took the opportunity to be amazed that someone from a world I assumed was completely different from our own had become so skilled that he could hack into a Containment database.

And then I thought about what he was doing.

“You can’t break into a government computer,” I said. Gunnar, at least, wouldn’t have been breaking in. He’d have been using his access improperly, yeah, but that at least seemed like a slightly grayer area.

“How else did you think we were going to alter the videos?” Liam asked.

“I don’t know. But that’s not exactly legal. They find out I was involved in altering it, it’s only going to make the whole thing worse.”

Liam gestured toward Moses, stepped back. “Let her have it, Mos.”

Moses grinned, cracked the knuckles on his small fingers like a boxer preparing for a brawl. “Happy to.” He put his hands over the counter, leaned over it, glared at me. “You wanna talk about legal, honey? I been sitting in this goddamn neighborhood for six and a half years. Can’t go anywhere else. Can’t see anything else. Can’t get home again. And why? Because your government is too stupid to tell the good guys from the bad guys. And you want to whine about what’s legal? You think this is legal? Interning people for nearly a decade? You think this is due process?”

I wasn’t sure what to say to that, so I just stayed quiet.

“Well,” Mos said after a few seconds, “at least she’s smart enough to keep her trap shut.”

He turned back to the keyboard and screen, began typing. A moment later, a list of files began scrolling across the screen.

“Is their security that bad, or is he that good?” I whispered.

“He’s that good,” Mos said, whapping the monitor again when it dimmed, waiting while it flickered to life again and the file list appeared on the screen.

“Where did it happen?” he asked.

“Royal and Conti,” Liam said. “Near the Supreme Court.”

“Containment says that’s Sector Twenty-seven. When?”

“About an hour ago.”

Mos whistled. “Cutting it close, Quinn. Cutting it close. They could have accessed it by now.” He kept clicking.

“But you’re in luck,” he said. “They haven’t.” And when the wraith’s image filled the screen, activated by his emergence, he shifted to the side so we could all watch the video.

The wraith dodged out from the trees around the Supreme Court building, followed seconds later by the second one.

“There aren’t cameras around the building,” Liam said. “It’s too dark, and there’s too much greenery. So the camera would have been triggered when they emerged into the street.”

“Why not just clear out the brush?” I wondered.

Liam crossed his arms, eyes narrowed on the screen as the camera jerked and followed the wraiths’ movements toward the girl. “The state owns the building and the land. They don’t have the money. Containment didn’t want to get into a big federalism argument, so they left it alone.”

The camera panned out, caught me at the edge of the frame hitting the wraith with the limb, then getting flattened by his backhand. A little interim fighting, and then I disappeared into the alley.

“Hold on,” Mos said. “There are two other cameras that track that sector.” He flipped through files until he found the right one, then loaded the video. The camera was across the street. It wasn’t close enough or high-quality enough for a lot of detail, but the wraiths moving toward me were plenty visible.