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the dog, Dead Rabbit, and robot. They stood near the back of a shed across from Hank’s house. “Don’t move. Don’t make a sound.” He glanced over at the Dead Rabbit. “And no killing.”
    Lucas rolled his eyes. The more you say it, the more I want to do it. He pulled his knife from its sheath and slashed the air around him.
    “Keep him here,” Cavalo said to SIRS. “I mean it this time.”
    SIRS sounded affronted. “I tried to keep him at the prison,” he said. “It’s not my fault he was worried about you.”
    “He wasn’t worried,” Cavalo said.
    I worry all the time , Lucas said, pointing the knife at him. The tip scraped against Cavalo’s arm, causing a shallow scratch. It didn’t bleed, but Cavalo had to stop himself from breaking the Dead Rabbit’s arm. I worry about so many things.
    Cavalo didn’t believe him.
    The knife pressed harder before it was withdrawn. Lucas sheathed it again, his gaze never leaving Cavalo. I worry what your insides look like. If they’re crawling with bees.
    Cavalo ignored him, looking back up toward the house. It was dark. Dawn was still hours away. They’d be asleep. Deke. Aubrey. Hank. He’d be quiet. Get his answers. Then he could think about the next step. It was that easy.
    Don’t get shot again , Bad Dog said. Tell Boy Deke to put down the boomstick.
    “I won’t,” Cavalo told him. “And I will.”
    “Are you sure this is a good idea?” SIRS asked.
    “No. But it’s all I’ve got.”
    He started toward the house.
    And was stopped when a hand reached out and grabbed his own, pulling him back. He glanced down and saw Lucas’s hand holding his own. He didn’t understand. The grip tightened, grinding his bones together. He looked up at the Dead Rabbit. His eyes glittered in the oily mask.
    Cavalo waited.
    Lucas appeared to war with himself. He looked away, toward the dark house. His mouth stretched into a thin line.
    “I’m coming back,” Cavalo said. He didn’t know why he felt the need to reassure Lucas. He didn’t know why Lucas was here at all.
    Lucas nodded tightly. He let go of Cavalo’s hand and took his knife out once more. Flipped it and caught it by the blade. Held the handle out to Cavalo. Take it , he said.
    Cavalo hesitated. “I don’t think I’ll—”
    Insistent. Take it. Take it.
    Cavalo took the knife. “What about you?”
    Lucas gnashed his teeth. I don’t need it.
    “No eating anyone,” Cavalo said sternly, pointing the knife back at him.
    Lucas just smiled.
    Cavalo took a breath and left his strange group hiding in the shadows.
    The house was quiet as Cavalo stepped onto the porch.
    He tried the front door. Locked, of course. Cavalo would have been disappointed if it’d been that easy.
    The front window was locked too. That was easier. He stuck the knife between the frame and bent it back until the wood cracked, and the window popped up with a low groan. He stuck the knife in his teeth as he propped the window up with a small slat of wood set against the frame. He climbed in, feeling strangely guilty about the act.
    This is Hank , he told himself.
    Who is not who he seemed , he told himself.
    The house settled around him as he stood in an old mudroom. He took the knife from his mouth.
    Low lights flickered through a doorway off to his left. Little flashes of orange and red. Dancing shadows. Cavalo thought it beautiful.
    He walked through the doorway.
    The fire in the fireplace burned brightly. The room was warm.
    From his chair in front of the fire, Hank said, “I wondered how long it would take you.” He didn’t look at Cavalo.
    “Waiting long?” Cavalo asked quietly. He listened for the sounds of an ambush: the quick intake of breath, the light steps of feet. There was only the pop of fire and wood, the shifting of the old farmhouse.
    Hank shrugged. “There are many answers to that question, Cavalo.”
    “Cryptic doesn’t sit well on you, Hank.”
    “I don’t mean to be,” he said with a sigh. He lifted a