The path continues through deep and impenetrable shadows for what feels like hours. Every now and again, I hear movement from either side of me, but when I look over, I can’t see anything. Each time I look, I feel the knot in my head tighten, as though I were using shadows.

I wake up the next evening at six with a knot in my chest to match the one in my head. I don’t want to face the Devotees again. Not after what happened in Veracruz. Not after the explosions, the blood, the ripples of darkness reaching out into every corner of the city, killing everything and everyone they came into contact with… I don’t want to deal with it. I can’t. Not yet.

We land at the Philadelphia Airport a little more than three hours later, sore from the TSA’s poking and prodding. I swear, the mortals’ stupid security systems are even more obnoxious than the entire damn Dynasty. But whatever makes them feel safer, I guess. The drive to our new, temporary home base is only about a half an hour. Briella is entirely silent the whole way. All I can hear is the rustling of her scarf brushing against her shirt. I lean as far away from her as I can without seeming rude, so that I end up essentially sitting on Montero’s lap with his arm wrapped around my shoulders.

The building is a good fifty stories tall. The office I need to breach is on the thirty-seventh floor. The elevators inside use fingerprinting and voice-command and keycards, and for all my skills I have yet to develop one that’ll fool a computer into thinking I’m someone I’m not. The stairways are equipped with emergency exits. I don’t want to trip the alarms; not quite yet. I still need everyone inside the building.