Dammit chirped questioningly at me, so I explained the situation. At first he seemed confused, chirping a question at the pigeons.

Then Dammit understood. The pigeons knew something—they had to. They were pigeons, the spies of every city. And Dammit adored Declan. Declan was part of his flock.

Part of his flock was missing, possibly hurt, and they had information we needed but weren’t helping.

Dammit chirped ominously. He pulled his head into his chest, puffing out his body and shaking his feathers. Sparks exploded around him, floating down to the pavement.

The pigeons grew quiet.

“Hey, buddy,” Trick said, watching his familiar warily. “You might want to calm down a little…”

Dammit leapt from Trick’s shoulder, his fledgling wings spread as he screeched a phoenix hunting cry.

“…or not,” Trick said.

Dammit burst into flame, oranges, reds, and blues licking along his wings, his feathers. He dove to the pavement, screeching at the pigeons. Herding them this way and that, like a pissed-off dragon with a flock of sheep.

Van watched the pigeons scatter, perplexed. “Why don’t they fly?”

“They’re too scared,” I said, watching Dammit swoop down, squawking, chiding, and showering the sidewalk with sparks.

“What is he saying?” Van asked.

“It’s not important,” Trick said. “Lou, can you wash a bird’s mouth out with soap? Is that a thing? Because I have to say, I had no idea the little guy was storing up that much profanity.”

Frankly, I was with Dammit, because my patience was gone.

Dammit screeched one last time, long and loud, before landing back on Trick’s shoulder pad. He shook himself, settling his feathers.

Before us stood an absolutely quiet, very harassed-looking flock of pigeons. Once more I held up my phone, showing them a photo of Declan. “Who’s got information for me?”

Every pigeon began cooing at once.

Thirty minutes later, Will, Bay, and Mama Ami arrived, followed shortly by my mom and a suspiciously large van, so everyone piled in. There were seats left over.

“Buckle up, everyone,” my mom yelled from her spot in the driver’s seat.

“Mom, why do you have a fifteen-person passenger van?” I picked a seat and buckled up. “Did you steal it?”

“I borrowed it.”

I narrowed my eyes at her. “That wasn’t a denial.”

Someone chuckled, and that’s when I noticed that my mom was not alone. A man peered at me from the front passenger seat. I recognized him from Mom’s opera photos—Luis Velasquez. “It’s a company van.”

“Is the company going to mind?” I asked.

He grinned. “It’s my company.”

“Fair enough.” I leaned forward in my seat. “Mom, did you bring a date to the rescue mission?”

“Luis, this is my family. Part of it, anyway. A nice cross-section of the extra for you.” She waved a hand in the air. “A sampler, if you will.”

Luis leaned further out of the passenger seat and waved at everybody. “Nice to meet you all.” He gave us a charming grin, and even from where I was seated, I could tell he was dressed more casually than the photo Mom had showed me.