“We’ve seen it,” Liam gently said. “You’re on it.”
Tadji stood up. “It’s too dangerous for you to be here without help, without support. They could come for you, and no one would know it. You could come back to New Orleans with us.” She looked at me and Liam.
“We have friends you could stay with,” I said. “You’d be safe there until we can make sure the threat is gone.”
Tadji nodded. “Yes. Exactly. The three of us rode down here together. I can drive back with you in the sedan.”
“Nonsense,” Phaedra said, crossing one leg over another. “That’s nonsense. We’ve done no one’s business but our own for years.”
“But you did someone else’s business at one time, Mrs. Dupre?”
All eyes turned to Liam.
“You helped Containment during the war. And when you discovered they lied about immunity, you disappeared. Maybe after that, you’ve done favors for friends, used your magic. Become known as women who could help?”
Phaedra’s chin lifted again in that proud, defiant way. She was definitely Tadji’s mother. “It’s a difficult life out here. You work hard for it, and you get to know the folks who help you. We’ve done right by our neighbors. It’s what anyone would do.”
Liam sat down on the arm of the chair, his eyes fixed on Phaedra. “I don’t doubt that one bit. But when you help, word spreads about who you are, about where you are, and about what you can do. The fact is, you’re on the list, and they know where you are.”
“Even if what you’re saying is true,” Phaedra said, “we aren’t going anywhere. This is our home. We aren’t going to leave it.”
And then, suddenly, they didn’t have a choice.
It started as a low throb of sound, a drumbeat in the distance. And then it grew louder. Thuck. Thuck. Thuck. Thuck.
You didn’t often hear air traffic over the Zone—it was too risky to fly when you could suddenly lose power—but I remembered what a helicopter sounded like.
I stood up, my heart pounding as loudly as the rotors. I thought, hoped, that we’d managed to get here in time. It didn’t look like that was the case.
“Stay here,” Liam said, and walked to the window, used a single finger to slip back a curtain and looked out. He let out a low, growling curse as it passed over the house, and then he looked back at me, nodded.
Liam shifted his gaze to Phaedra and Zana. “It’s a ComTac copter. That’s the defense contractor we think is trying to open the Veil—the ones who have the list with your name on it. They’ll look for somewhere to land, and then the operatives will come here, and they’ll come for you.”
Phaedra’s eyes and expression had gone flat. “They’ll get the encryption over my dead body.”
“The encryption?” Tadji asked, glancing between Liam and her mother. “What does that mean? I don’t know what that means.”
“Damn,” I murmured.
“It means your mother’s not just a Sensitive,” Liam said. “She’s one of the seven Sensitives who closed the Veil. ComTac wants her to help get it open again.”
Tadji’s eyes grew large, her gaze jumping from Liam to her mother and back again.
“We’ll get into the details later,” Liam said, “when everyone is safe. But for now we need to get out. We don’t have much time.”
“We don’t need protecting,” Phaedra said, standing. “The sun is setting. We can get into the bayou, hide. We’ve got provisions there.” She looked at her sister, who nodded. “We stored them, just in case. They won’t be able to find us.”
Liam looked at Tadji, who looked completely out of her element. And for good reason—this was precisely the element she’d been trying to avoid for years.
But it was too late for regrets or questions. We had to move.
“Let’s go,” Liam said, gesturing toward the door. “Lead the way, Mrs. Dupre.”
? ? ?
Back to the porch, down the stairs, around the house to the back. The bayou began about fifty yards away, with stubbly grass and a small shed in between. With Tadji in front, Liam behind, we ran for the shed.
The yelling started just before we dodged behind old wood.
Either they’d found a landing spot for the copter and hurried from it, or they’d had vehicles on the ground, too. ComTac wanted its Sensitive. And ComTac was prepared.
We peered through the worn wood at the house. Operatives in black fatigues spilled like termites around each side of the house, carrying very large weapons. They formed a human barrier on both sides, preventing us from running back the other way and toward the cars. It was the bayou or Devil’s Isle. And that was only really a choice if we assumed they wouldn’t follow us through the swamps. Unfortunately, these guys—and they were all men—looked like hard-bitten warriors. Big muscles, lots of ink, faces that seemed to have taken plenty of abuse from Paras or otherwise. They wouldn’t just let us go.