“THIS CONDUCTOR, MISS Hazel, is so sweet,” Mariah comments. She jumps out of the Jeep and walks around to the front to meet me. “Miss Hazel is Aunt Lu’s partner of… God, thirty-five years? This house is a station we use sometimes. Hazel’ll probably offer you a four-course meal so your bellies are full until the next stop.”

“What’s with the code?” Alice asks. “Stations, conductors, stops.”

I answer before Mariah does. “Are we following the Underground Railroad?”

“Not quite,” Valec clarifies. He comes to stand beside me, arms crossed, gazing at an old home up a ways from where we’ve parked. “There wasn’t just one route, anyway, and no one really knew all of them, or even the full extent of any single route, for security reasons. But we’re using the technology and knowledge left behind, yes. Keeping our people safe still looks a lot like hiding from those who would do us harm.” He looks back at Sel pulling in behind us as we speak.

“Technology?” Alice asks.

Valec smirks at me, like we’re sharing a secret. “Ingenuity is more than bytes and LEDs. Always has been and always will be.”

Our conductor, Miss Hazel, is a short, round woman who is mostly apron and smiles. She greets Mariah at the door with a full-bodied hug, the kind where you sort of fold into the other person. When she does the same to me, my insides shine and vibrate at her touch. I inhale a heavenly cloud of lavender, mint, and sage. Cocoa butter and shea—from her tiny curls—swirl in my nose and mouth like magic.

“Come on inside, honey.” Miss Hazel offers an easy, Southern welcome in a voice edged with age, but her glowing, deep brown skin is smooth and soft. She wraps a surprisingly strong arm around me, and guides me through her front door. Walking into her home is like entering another world.

The warm, rich scents of all-day cooking go straight to my stomach. I identify them right away: the sharp, mouth-watering smell of baked mac and cheese, fresh-baked cornbread sitting out to cool, and, underneath it all, hot oil hanging heavy in the air from something deep-fried. In every corner, green ferns and string of pearls plants hang from terra-cotta and sapphire baskets. Potted plants stand like guardians at each threshold, ushering us through a den and a living room with plastic-covered couches. In the back of the house there’s a small, well-used kitchen with doilies on the table.

Hunger must show on my face, because an appreciative, proud smile spreads wide across Miss Hazel’s face. “Looks like you need a plate.”

Valec and Mariah join us and introduce William and Sel to Miss Hazel. Her eyes find his void cuffs immediately, and she raises a brow at Valec.

“A Merlin,” Miss Hazel says, a negative hum in her throat.

He lifts his hands. “Approved by Lucille.”