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the right, where the wall met the ceiling, meaning in her eyes. And she knew when Jane followed her gaze and spotted the camera mounted there. “Eyes and ears, hon,” she whispered, a big, fake smile on her face. “Everywhere.”
    Jane nodded and lowered her head, face averted from the camera. “I’m just trying to find out if it’s safe here for my daughter.”
    â€œShould have done that before you brought her here,” Roxy said.
    â€œThen we’re leaving.” Jane started to turn away toward the big entry door.
    Roxy clasped her arm, and squeezed hard enough to get her attention and stop her in her tracks. “They won’t let you leave. You didn’t notice the armed guards walking the perimeter? The electric fence around this entire place? You’re here now. And you’ll have to stay here.”
    â€œBut—”
    â€œNo buts. No choice.” The elevator doors slidopen as Roxy released the woman’s arm but continued to hold her eyes. Her false smile had vanished, and she realized it and pasted it back on again. “I’ll do everything I can to protect you both. And when the time is right, I’ll get you out of here.”
    â€œThat’s why you’re keeping your…condition…secret?”
    Roxy nodded as she hustled them into the elevator. “You want the zoo cages left unlocked, best have a monkey posing as a zookeeper, don’t you think? Now come on. You blow my cover, we’re all done for. And for heaven’s sake, smile. You’ve gotta look like you’re glad to be here. All right?”
    â€œAll right.”
    They stepped inside, all three of them, and the elevator doors slid closed. As they rode upward, Roxy added, in a very soft whisper, “Don’t let them know she’s different. That would be…bad.”
    The mother shifted her blue eyes to the little girl, who stood between the two adults, her knapsack on her back, a teddy bear peeking from the top. Tears shimmered in Jane’s eyes, but she blinked them away and tightened her grip on her daughter’s tiny hand.

3
    Bangor, Maine
    B rigit smelled death in the air. Death, grief, violence. And something more. She was standing above a demolished street in downtown Bangor, Maine. There was a taste to the night, a scent and a feeling. It smelled this way after lightning struck. After an electrical transformer had blown up, or after a breaker box had short-circuited.
    And after she had used her power to blow something to bits.
    She would have known what had happened here simply by that smell, even if she hadn’t seen the news reports with her own eyes.
    The streets were blocked off. Cops wearing black armbands in honor of their dead stood sentry at every possible access point. But they hadn’t covered the rooftops. Local law enforcement agencies had a lot to learn about the Undead—and their mongrel kin.
    Brigit stood on the roof of a hardware store, looking down at the mayhem. Burned-out vehicles, scattered debris. There were still body parts here and there, missed by the EMTs and the crews from the coroner’s office, no matter how thorough they thought they had been. She could smell them. Charred meat had a distinctive aroma, and charred human meat had one all its own. It wasn’t pleasant.
    Her nose wrinkled, and she averted her face, closing her eyes against the onslaught of remembered images. But she couldn’t stop the nightmarish scene from playing out in her mind just as it had so recently played out for real on the streets below her. She was too close, her mind too open. She saw the entire encounter play out in her mind’s eye. Utana big and so powerful, but more utterly alone than any man had ever been, cold, wet and shivering in the delivery truck, devouring the stolen food with relish. She felt his awareness of being surrounded, his confusion as to why the humans would want to harm him when his goal was