"Okay." Coalhouse's head bobbed slightly. "What about the masked people in town? They're targeting the living. You know anything about that?"

"No. But I wouldn't put it past her. She ordered the men to go get Smoke without permission ... she might've sent some into town. She's like a she-wolf. She can smell weakness, and takes pleasure in stomping it out."

"I've dealt with her before. I was in the army with her." The boy sighed. "Look, I have a plan. But I need your help to work it."

"Alone? Without your friends?"

"No," he said bitterly. "No. It's better alone." I answered this with silence, unsure what to say. "I need to convince her I'm on her side. I need to get into her confidence, figure out what exactly people at this camp are doing, if anything. What they plan to do."

Suddenly I realized what this fellow was to me. He was a connection to the outside world. "Oh, but I could do that, and tell you what I find out!"

"No!" Startled by his outburst, I shut up. "I need to do this on my own. It has to be me."

Clutching my shawl more tightly about my shoulders, I argued, "But it will only put you in danger. Why not let me do it? I have no friends, aside from Dog and Abuelo. I have nowhere to go."

Coalhouse rumbled, "'Cause my 'friends' treat me like a loser, and I'm sick of it." He looked down at me again, kindness gone, resolution in its place. "Are you going to help me or not?"

I had no choice but to throw my lot in with him. "Yes."

"Good. Now, I need you to get me in to see Hagens."

The very idea of being anywhere around her made me shiver. "What are you going to do?"

"I've got news for her. I'm going to act like I've abandoned Griswold. Like I'm going rogue."

From the direction of the camp I could hear zombies stirring, and knew he might not be able to. "Okay. Wait here." I swallowed. "And if I don't come back ... get out of here. Promise you'll go."

"Just hurry," he said as he settled down in the undergrowth.

Martira's tent had been taken over by the leaders, most of whom were still asleep. Only a few were awake and quietly conversing-Hagens, Allende, and "Duke" Rastino, a dark-skinned zombie dressed in a whirlwind of ochre silk and sepia velvet. Rastino looked after all the card sharps and hustlers.

Allende said something, and the others laughed. As Rastino commented on it, Hagens looked up and saw me lingering in the doorway. "What in the Devil's name are you doing here, you little weed?" she said in that tone of voice that always made me want to crawl up inside my own body and wait for her to go away.

"There ..." I shifted my skirt up, and felt it snag on my roses' thorns. "There's someone outside who wants to see you. A newcomer."

Hagens glanced at Allende and Rastino. "See? I told you. More will come."

"How are they going to find us if we move, though?" asked Allende.

"They'll have to. Because we need to get out of here."

"He asked for you." I didn't know what to say, save the truth. "His name is Coalhouse. He said to tell you he's left Griswold."

Hagens climbed to her feet, instantly angry. "Take me to him. Rastino." The brightly clad zombie looked up. "Give me your gun." He did so, and she tucked the pistol into the waistband of her trousers.

I couldn't walk, seeing that. Was she just going to shoot him? Was I leading the firing squad right to him?

"Go," she said, glaring at me. I couldn't, and she reached out and shoved me in the chest, almost knocking me over. I released a choking sound, unable even to draw in air to scream with. "What are you waiting for?"

Gathering my wits about me, I slowly turned and led her out. The sun was starting to burn off some of the fog; the earth seemed far too bright.

"Where is he?" she demanded.

"In the woods." She shoved me again, this time in the back, and I pointed out where I'd left him.

"Why did he come to you?" She stepped in front of me. "Let's talk about that first, hmm?"

"He didn't." It seemed to take forever to come up with the words. "I was going to walk, and I found him. I couldn't sleep, because of the fires ..." The enormity of what they'd done struck me, and I barely choked back a sob. "He said he was waiting for the right time to come to you. That you were right all along."

Hagens ran her cold eyes over my face. "You realize if you try anything cute I'll kill you, right?"

I nodded blindly, because I did.

"This doesn't have to be hard. Your sister was sick. Her priorities were beyond messed up. I gave her chance after chance, and I only killed her because I had to-but she deserved what she got. You play your part, you keep your mouth shut, and everything goes easy for you." With that she marched beyond me, determinedly heading toward where I'd shown her.

Terrified, I had no choice but to follow. Oh, G.o.d. Was she actually going to kill him?

Coalhouse looked up when she came crashing through the brush. Before he could say anything, Hagens c.o.c.ked the gun in her waistband. She lifted it, aiming at him, and his eye widened.

"Mr. Gates," Hagens hollered, so loudly I thought she'd wake the whole camp. "Apparently you're too dumb to know what's good for you."

"I'm not that deaf," the boy said as he slowly stood up. Showing his hands, he continued to stare at the gun. "Nice to see you, too, Miss Hagens."

"I was not lying the night you came here with your gang. You have ten seconds to leave. For your own safety."

"So you don't want to talk about yesterday? The fact that we were the ones to take down your men?" The young man fixed his remaining eye on her even as her expression blackened further. "'Cause it was the last time I'll take orders from Griswo-"

Lightning fast, Hagens turned her hand just a degree to the left and shot beyond Coalhouse's shoulder. He ducked reflexively and then looked ashamed for doing so. I gripped my fingers into my leaves. "I'm through playing games. What, did you think you'd come here and we'd exchange some witty banter? That then we'd laugh and hug and I'd welcome you into my crew? I know this is a setup. I know Griswold."

Coalhouse recovered, though he looked unnerved. "But it's true. We had an argument last night and I left. Thought maybe you could use me. So I bought a secondhand carriage this morning and headed up here."

"Sure you're not just here for the pretty girls with low standards?" Hagens asked, glancing at me. My skin p.r.i.c.kled.

"Look, you don't have to insult me," he said, and I could hear real pain in his voice. "If you can't use me, just tell me, and I'll find somewhere else to go. But maybe you should listen to what I came here to tell you first."

"Entertain me," Hagens drawled.

"You guys have to move your camp. The entire thing. And you can't go back to New London."

Hagens lifted a brow. She disarmed the gun with a click and waited for him to continue.

"When I left Gris, he said he was going to the coppers," Coalhouse said, holding her gaze. "He recognized one of your girls while we were defending Patient One. We know it was you. Don't try to pretend."

"Hold up. Who's Patient One?"

"The prisoner," Coalhouse said. "The biter they locked up. The one Griswold killed your people to make sure stayed in human control, yeah? And now he's going to lead the cops right to you. Only reason he held off was because he did send us back here to spy, and he didn't want any of us taking a bullet. But you guys? He doesn't give a c.r.a.p what happens to you. If you go back to New London, he'll find you."

Coalhouse was a superb actor. I had no idea how much of his speech was fact and how much fiction, but I found myself impressed. It was even easy to act shocked. Trying to do my part, I blurted out, "It's true. They were here last night. I saw them."

Hagens seemed to expand with rage, her eyes opening wide, her nostrils flaring. "Oh, were they?"

"If I were against you, would I tell you guys to move?" the boy asked. "To put some distance between you and the humans? Look, I'll even help. Then I'll go back and keep an eye on Gris, make sure he doesn't try anything else."

Hagens thought for a moment, her eyes darting between us, before saying, "No."

Coalhouse blinked. "I'm telling the truth!"

Hagens stepped closer to him. "It doesn't matter if you are. It doesn't matter what you saw, and it doesn't matter what Griswold tries. We're moving today anyway. Fat lot of good it'll do, as I know they'll find us again, but it's something."

"Who'll find you? Because I'm talking about the cops. Wouldn't you rather scatter and survive the-"

"The cops are the least of my concerns. If the army showed up, they would be wasting my time. This is bigger than the army."

Coalhouse didn't move, but he was starting to look genuinely scared. "What are you talking about, Hagens?"

"None of your business. Knowing will just get you in trouble. That's my philosophy for everyone till I get this sorted out. And the last thing I need is Company Z vets hanging around." She jammed the barrel of her gun into her chest. "You know me, Coalhouse. Am I crazy? Evil?"

"No."

"I'd be the first to say Averne was a monster. That Wolfe can never be forgiven for what he did. I'm not like them." And with that she swung the gun around and aimed it at my head. I froze. "But I'll do what I have to do. Right now I'm actually protecting you. Go. Or I will kill this one where she stands."

Coalhouse looked at me helplessly. I couldn't say it, so I prayed he would go. Even if he never came back.

A second later he did. He retreated to the field, to his carriage. Hagens didn't let up, even once he was inside his vehicle and tearing toward the road. "Why didn't you tell me you saw them last night?"

"I was confused," I said, watching the carriage leave, wishing I could call out to it. "I swear I was confused. Because ... of everything ..."

I couldn't even look in her eyes. It was a solid minute before she relented, putting the gun away. "Stay close to me from now on. I don't trust you. I never want you more than three feet from me, you understand?"

Nodding, I waited for her to move before following her.

There was no hope.

21.

VESPERTINE.

"Did Suzanna speak to you the other night?"

Careful not to move my eyes, focusing intently on the beaded Oaxacan-print curtains hung in my mother's favorite carriage, I told the truth. "No."

Lady Elsinore Mink-legally, my mother-regarded me shrewdly through the short veil attached to her hat. Her hands moved in brisk, nervous ways that made her look as if she sought to gather the world in and make it worry with her. "Choose your words carefully, girl. I heard some of the servants talking last night as if Suzanna had, and I will find out the truth. I will not be disobeyed."

I didn't need this. I had bigger things to worry about. "Suzanna has never spoken to me. A few nights ago someone entered my room and put my washing away. I hardly remember who comes and goes. They're your servants. You won't let me have my own."

Mother huffed musically and turned to look at her companion, Miss Prescilla Perez. They were both brunettes with high curls and beauty marks, nearly twins. "You see what I have to live with."

"Hush, Ellie." Prescilla regarded my mother with large, tender black eyes. "Hush, darling. It's that house. It gets to you."

"I hate eclatverre," my mother agreed, her voice rising an octave, before turning back to me. "You know what will happen if I catch you in a lie."

Finally trusting myself to look her in the eyes, I turned from the window and said, "If Suzanna said anything to me, she will be turned out without a reference. She'll never find another household position in the Territories again. She will be forced to pursue work as a barmaid, or marry a goatherd, or do one of a thousand other shameful things." And because I meant to guard her against that fate, I did the only thing I could do-try to get the dogs off her trail. "As for myself, Mother-"

"Don't call me that," Lady Mink snapped. "Don't you ever call me that!"

One figurative creek forded, the scent weakened, I hushed. I didn't even bother to act as if her words surprised or hurt me. She'd long ago lost the power to hurt me. Now she had only the power to embarra.s.s me in ways that told me she'd never mentally progressed beyond her own time at St. Cyprian's, and was slowly losing even that as I grew closer to accessing my trust fund and a husband and was more often seen in public. The ancient carriage sent for me at school, my attic bedroom, and the vow of silence her servants had to take were the final remnants of it; the NVIC interview she'd forced me to do following Dearly's kidnapping had probably been her last big hurrah. Lord, I hated to think I'd ever shown my face on television, like an actress. Only the fact that I'd spent that time humiliating Dearly made up for it.

What was it I'd said that had incurred such a punishment? I believe I called Miss Perez "an opportunistic, money-grubbing cathouse reject."

So, all things considered, it'd been completely worth it.

The carriage rolled on, turning to the east. We were on our way to spend the afternoon with the de La Moscas. I wasn't much looking forward to it, but at least it would be a distraction from my maddeningly quiet, bejeweled mobile phone. I had to talk to Michael before he did something truly stupid. The gridlines of every calendar I looked at now reminded me of crosshairs.

"Do not embarra.s.s me today," Lady Mink said, whipping out a black lace fan and fluttering it madly before her face. "Or so help me, I shall have the shop shut up, and you won't be permitted to go there anymore."

Hoping to enrage her to the point of confusion, I said, "You do, and Father will come down on you like a ton of bricks."

"Don't speak so to the lady," Prescilla said, leaning in dangerously close. "You forget your place."

Smiling sweetly at her, I went mum. I could think of a thousand things to call her, as usual, but I wasn't willing to go that far for a mere maid.

I had standards, after all.

Lord Alberto de La Mosca was Attorney General of the Territories. His country estate, Willowshire, was a Georgian recreation of yellow stone surrounded by terraformed fields of willow trees and cork oaks.

We were received in the grand drawing room by Lady Louisa de La Mosca. Although middle-aged, she was younger than Lord Alberto by a good twenty years. The portraits of her in the long mirrored hall did not match her feature-for-feature, indicating nipping and tucking, or perhaps something more.

My mother and Miss Perez were entertained by her. I was left to deal with her two girls, Opalina and Yaeba. They were children, and I found myself less than enchanted by their antics.

"Did you hear about Hettie Schloot?" Opalina leaned close to me. She was thirteen, and eager to seem worldly. She already wore her black hair up and her skirts to her ankle, which I found extremely odd.

"No. Who's Hettie Schloot?" I sipped my tea, my mind elsewhere.

"A girl from town. Family has money, but no station. Linen drapers."

"Then why would I have heard anything about her, pray?"

"Because of what happened to her face!" Yaeba squealed. She was nine, a creature of freckles and gapped teeth.

"No, I want to tell it!" Opalina said, glaring at her. When Yaeba demonstrated her submission by sipping her cup of hot cocoa, her sister continued, "She was out walking with her dead cousin last night, and the Murder saw them. And whoosh! Out flew one of them, and slashed her face for it. They say she looks like Frankenstein's creation now, with all the st.i.tches."