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aren’t—”
    “We are the last of what you call Owlkins, those who remember how to live among humans. Any of the Clans that live beyond here are not my kin. We were different. The Cania run in packs with little time for one another outside of mating. The Felia are loyal to their Pride, though many wander and roam.” He shook his head, some of that thundercloud dissipating. Leaving him empty, sad. “No, I need someone further outside of this, someone who has as much at stake in the outcome as we do.”
    Okay, things were starting to make a little more sense. Cania were were-dogs; the Felia, were-cats. Right; got it. “So … what? You picked me because I was friendly with Danika?”
    “I picked you because they would be alive if you had let yourself be caught.”
    My entire body went cold. His simple tone, devoid of accusation, tore at my heart more sharply than stinging jibes and venom. It hurt because he was right.I’d told myself as much in the hours following the initial slaughter, when I didn’t know in which direction to go next. I’d only known I couldn’t change it. Life didn’t work that way.
    “I would die again if it meant bringing your people back,” I said.
    “I believe you, but you can’t resurrect an entire species.”
    No, I couldn’t. My stomach ached. I longed to lie down and rest. Yesterday’s problems seemed so far away, and yet they’d never really disappeared. I went to the Owlkins for protection; they died when my old colleagues came looking for me. The brass would never have given a destroy order if I hadn’t been there. I owed Phineas. I owed Danika.
    “How long do you need me to protect you?” I asked.
    “Three days, maybe four.”
    “What happens in four days?”
    He started to speak. Stopped. After a moment, he said, “I should show you.”
    “Show me?”
    Phin strode across the living room. I circled the counter, keeping him within my sights. He opened the front door and beckoned at someone on the other side. Mental alarms blared. I tensed. Scanned the countertop for available weapons—just a half-full coffee mug and a spatula. Damn.
    The front door creaked. Phin stepped back. A man as old as mud tottered inside—tall and skinny and angular, with layers of wrinkled skin bunched around his eyes and jowls in a queer cross between bird and bulldog. Bright white hair was neatlycombed and split down the middle. His clothes hung from his gaunt frame like grain sacks on a pole.
    He walked faster than his age or build suggested possible, though with little balance. He came to an unsteady, teetering stop in the tiny foyer area and looked around, head turning with sharp jerks.
    “It’s safe, Joseph,” Phin said.
    Unconvinced, the old man continued his perusal of the apartment. Never looking directly at me, he seemed more concerned with the surroundings. My patience began to wear thin, especially when Joseph scowled.
    “The door’s broken,” he said, his voice as thin as his body. Breezy and empty, like air through pipes.
    “It’s temporary,” Phin said. “Just let Aurora come inside.”
    Another one. He’d said three, but I was starting to resent the invasion of my personal space. Inviting them inside without asking me.
    But Joseph just stepped to the side and revealed Aurora. She was barely there. Maybe five feet tall, and as narrow and delicate as bone china. Dark brown hair hung to her waist in thick spirals. Eyes as vividly blue as Phin’s, wide as pool balls, stared at me. I stared right back until my peripheral vision took note of something. My attention dropped to her waist.
    Speechlessness was a rare condition for me. I stared until Phin said, “Now do you see, Evy? Leaving the city is too dangerous. We just need a few days.”
    I met his gaze. Watched the way he closed the door and stood behind Aurora, hands on her shoulders like a sentry. Guarding her and the future she carriedwith her. The future of the surviving Owlkins. Because Aurora was very, very