“If we wish to start at the beginning yet again,” Frederick was saying, “that would of course be true. But we don’t, and until both the satchel notes and the notes De Luca hid are found, we require what was left in Brooklyn.”

“So order the damn cloaks in to get them,” I said.

“We would if we could, but things are not that simple. Besides, you forget that PIT has the entire area cordoned off.”

“As have you,” I said. “Or is that fiery, magic-enhanced wall that covers part of Brooklyn not yours?”

“That dome was created to keep the information secure until retrieval arrangements could be made.”

There was an odd edge to his voice that had me frowning. “You could have used a shield to hide your presence and walked in, so why didn’t you?”

“Because it didn’t suit us to.”

Which meant there was something else going on—something he wasn’t about to tell us. Air brushed past my neck, its touch cold and filled with threat. I briefly studied the shadows clinging to the trunks of the old trees, but I still couldn’t see anything.

I flexed my fingers. It was tempting, so damn tempting, to send a river of fire through those shadows and reveal whatever might be hiding there. It was even more tempting to smite Frederick’s shield with both flame and the mother’s energy, but a full assault on his barrier would not only drain me, but leave me vulnerable to whatever—whoever—was waiting out there in the darkness.

Something he was probably hoping for.

“I get why you’re using us to get into Brooklyn,” I said, “but since you’ve spent a great deal of time boasting what great strategists you and Rinaldo are, why haven’t you already got a line on the location of De Luca’s notes?”

“Because he was canny, and because Rinaldo couldn’t read him.”

Meaning Rinaldo wasn’t all-powerful; he still had his restrictions, and that at least meant we had some hope of beating the bastard.

“The notes we left at our office weren’t De Luca’s,” I said.

“No, but they’re a good start,” the witch said. “You have twenty-four hours to get into Brooklyn and get the research matter left there. We also wish to receive the satchel notes within that time frame. If you don’t succeed . . .”

He didn’t finish, but then, he didn’t need to. “Fine,” I ground out. “When and where do we meet again?”

“Your office will do. Call first—and don’t inform anyone else.”

He’d barely finished speaking when something sharp hit my neck. I swept a hand up and pulled something thin and metallic from my skin even as Jackson jerked violently, then said, “A dart? What the fuck?”