Nightkeepers

freakazoids. But she’d gone after him because she didn’t like him, didn’t like what he stood for, not because policework said he was the killer.

‘‘A friend thing. Got it.’’ Billy nodded. ‘‘Give me a call if you get done early and want to hook up.’’

‘‘Thanks,’’ Leah said, and meant it. She doubted she and Billy would ever have the level of partnership she’d shared with Nick, but appreciated the reach-out.

Once she was in Peggy Sue and headed home, though, loneliness seeped in around the edges of her mind.

It would’ve been nice to call around and hook up for dinner or whatever, but she’d let most of her old friends slip away over the years and hadn’t made others, first because she was studying to be a cop, then because she had Nick to hang around with, and Matty. Now they were both gone, leaving her behind.

Which was why, instead of calling and canceling on Vince when she got home, as if she knew she ought to, she headed upstairs to change.

It wasn’t a date. But it was something.

Given free choice in the matter, Strike would’ve gone after the ajaw-makol alone. But since this wasn’t about just him, he relayed Carter’s info to Red-Boar and the others, so they could plan a targeted attack.

That was when the trouble started.

‘‘Absolutely not,’’ Brandt said, jaw tight. He was sitting on the love seat in the center of the great room beside his wife. The other trainees were scattered around the room, and Strike and Red-Boar stood on the raised area near the kitchen entryway. Hannah and Woody, Brandt’s winikin, had taken the twins, leaving the adults to hash things out. Rabbit sat at the back of the room, though Strike didn’t know when he’d come in. With his hoodie pulled low and his ear buds plugged in, the kid looked totally tuned out. But the glitter in his pale eyes beneath the hood suggested he was enjoying the chaos.

‘‘Excuse me?’’ Patience turned on her husband, eyes narrowing. ‘‘Strike didn’t ask you to go. He asked me.’’

Though a flicker of worry revealed that Brandt knew he was treading dangerous ground, he didn’t back down. ‘‘Think about it, hon. You’re not trained. Hell, you just figured out you can make yourself invisible—which, by the way, is very cool. But you don’t have your talent mark yet. What if the ability comes and goes until you get it? Are you willing to risk that? Think about the—’’

‘‘Don’t go there,’’ she snapped, cutting him off.

‘‘Don’t even bring the boys into it. I can make myself invisible, and I can make whoever touches me invisible. If I can help these two’’—she gestured to Strike and Red-Boar without looking at them—‘‘take care of this mako . . . well, whatever it’s called, then I will. Isn’t that what we’re all here for? To defeat darkness, save the world, all that crap?’’

‘‘You’re not doing it,’’ Brandt said, his square jaw locked mule-stubborn.

‘‘It’s not your choice,’’ Patience fired back.

‘‘Actually,’’ Strike said, raising his voice to carry, ‘‘it’s mine.’’

The room went silent.

He bit back a curse. Brandt was right—it was too soon, their talents too unfinished. But if they could kill the ajaw-makol before he got too strong they’d buy themselves more time to train.

‘‘Look,’’ Strike said. ‘‘I realize you guys don’t know me. You didn’t know my father, or, hell, even your own parents. You don’t remember how it was before, how things worked. So maybe you think there’s no real reason for you to buy into the power structure our parents lived by. But I’m what you’ve got in the way of a leader.’’ He looked from one to the other of them, ending with Brandt. ‘‘And you’re all I’ve got, so I won’t put any of you in danger unnecessarily. I swear it.’’

He waited it out, waited to see if any of his new Nightkeepers called him on his father’s choices or asked him whether he would’ve considered the attack on the intersection a necessary danger. Instead they stayed silent, shifting and looking at each other. All but Brandt, who kept staring at Strike as though assessing whether or not to trust him.

Then, finally, the other man looked away. Glancing at his wife, he murmured, ‘‘Sorry. Neanderthal moment. It’s your call.’’

Patience didn’t even hesitate. She stood and crossed to Strike. ‘‘When do we leave?’’

‘‘Now.’’

The Survivor2012 compound was situated on a ten-acre hump of dry land surrounded on all sides by the Everglades. Leah’s previous snoops had revealed that the single bridgelike road leading to the so-called retreat was normally guarded by a decent-size security force, along with cameras and heat and motion detectors. Tonight, though, the white-painted wrought-iron gates were wide-open, and a stream of limos and sports cars motored in, straight over the bridge and onward to follow a winding drive past artfully lit reproductions of crumbling Mayan temples.

At least, she thought they were repros. For all she knew, the freakazoids had bought—or flat-out stolen— the temples, moved them, and had them reassembled stone by stone. Because rocks could help save the world, you know.

She pulled up to the circular drive and handed off Peggy Sue to a valet, then joined the line of partygoers headed up to the mansion, where she and Vince had arranged to meet.

And it was a hell of a mansion, too. Zipacna and his cronies might be freakazoids, but they were well-funded freakazoids. The main house was set high above the swamp on built-up fill contained within a huge stone retaining wall, meaning that visitors had to climb a long, narrow flight of stone steps to reach the door. Presumably there was an easier way up, but Zipacna no doubt wanted his guests to get the full effect.

That, or he enjoyed watching them struggle with the stairs in their fancy clothes.

Leah knew she was getting the eye from a couple of male guests in their penguin suits as she headed up. She didn’t need the double takes to tell her she looked good in one hell of a little black dress, with her hair swept up in a