“We don’t know if Rutledge has all seven of the Sensitives,” I said, thinking of what Liam had said. “But this will be his one shot, so he’ll do what he can with what he’s got.”
Burke nodded. “He could have all the Sensitives now, or he could have had each of them at some time, and he’s been unlocking the encryption incrementally.”
“He’ll bring more people this time,” Gavin said, rubbing his chin with his thumb while he considered. “Not enough to beat back a first wave of Paras through the gate—he doesn’t have that many people—but enough to keep him and his people safe so they can get out of there and warn Containment more troops are needed.”
“Actually,” Burke said, “we don’t think Rutledge believes the Paras will be waiting to come through the Veil. We managed to grab one of the ComTac operatives. Rutledge operates from what’s called the ‘power loss allocation’ theory. It’s popular in military circles. Basically, it supposes Paras used all their available resources to get the Veil opened and send troops through the first time. And they sent all the good warriors through for the attack, so anyone left in the Beyond would be easy to battle. Not the types to be lined up at the door.”
“So,” Gunnar said, “he basically thinks he’ll open the door, and no one will be there?”
“Exactly,” Darby said.
“That matched what he told us in Chenal,” I agreed. “He thinks he’s being proactive.”
“That’s absolute nonsense,” Malachi said. “It doesn’t reflect what actually happened or the remaining population of Paras in the Beyond.”
“Which Rutledge would know,” Darby said, “if he or anyone else in PCC listened to anything a Paranormal had to say.”
“But since they didn’t, he’ll get the Veil open and be the first at the gate to bill the feds for all the defense services he can provide,” Liam said, obviously disgusted.
“So, what’s the plan?” I asked.
“Claire and I will take the Veil,” Burke said, glancing at me and making my heart chill. “We’ll do what we can as Sensitives to keep the locks closed. And if some of them are open, to close them up again.”
“Okay,” I said, and I could feel Liam’s worry blossoming beside me.
“Have you ever been near the Veil?” Burke asked. “Actually close to it?”
I shook my head.
“As we’ve discussed, it’s not just a line on a map. It’s energy and magic that moves like a ribbon; it undulates. You’re sensitive to magic. That means you’ll be sensitive to the Veil. You’ll be able to feel it if it gets too close.”
“Is that good or bad?”
“It’s the doorway to all the magic,” he said. “Unless you want all that magic at once, stay away from it.”
Solid advice.
“The rest of us will take the operatives,” Malachi said, glancing around.
“You’ll be seen again,” I said, thinking of the consequences.
He looked at me, smiled gently. “There’s no help for it. We have to fight as long as we can. The Veil cannot open again.” He looked back at everyone else. “Is everyone prepared?”
Everyone nodded. I’d brought my gun, but as we’d seen when chasing Marla, I still wasn’t thrilled about using it. Not that magic was much better.
“In that case,” Burke said, “I suggest we move.”
? ? ?
It was an hour-long drive to Talisheek, although Gunnar’s driving like a maniac sped it up somewhat. Since Malachi could get around on his own, he promised to meet us there after he got the information to Containment about the location of Rutledge’s operation.
We were mostly silent during the drive, thinking about the battle, about Paranormals, about each other. I hadn’t talked to Tadji since the battle at Chenal. She’d been freaked out then, and I could only imagine she’d been even more freaked out now. Rutledge certainly wasn’t doing much to make her believe that magic was anything but a cancer. And after all this, I didn’t know where our friendship would stand.
There hadn’t been much to Talisheek before the war—just a grocery store and post office, a few houses. The landscape had been mostly trees, with parcels scraped down to earth to plant crops. Now spots of forest and the char of battle covered the ground like a checkerboard. No one lived in Talisheek now.
Gunnar parked a quarter mile away, down a long-abandoned gravel road, and we crept in silence toward what was left of the brick arch that marked the front gate. We reached it and slipped behind brick to watch the action on the other side.
Most of the lawn where the battle had raged was still black, although grass had grown through in small patches that magic hadn’t managed to kill. And in the middle of that parched earth, the monument to war—two angular, forty-foot-tall concrete wings that soared into the air. The statue’s shape had been controversial—wings weren’t exactly popular with humans. But they made for a perfectly haunting reminder of what had happened here.