A few of them cast wary looks upward, while others kept their gazes down with a stiff, visible effort.

Nellie felt suddenly sure that if she could have overheard those conversations she would have heard voices that were a little unsteady or shrill. Frightened.

Her gaze lifted, and she studied signs, lampposts, the cute little balconies some of the downtown buildings boasted, the trees along Main and in the town square.

Crows.

Until she had seen them gathering close to town this morning, Nellie had almost been able to forget all the years of her life when the crows had always seemed to be around her. Until Finn had pushed her to use at least one of her Talents, she had been able to force them out of her mind.

But now . . .

There were dozens of them. Scores.

Black bodies glossy in the weak late-winter sunshine, they perched with almost no movement on trees and signs and balconies, not so much peering around them as directing their bright eyes toward the bank.

Toward Nellie.

She wrapped her arms around herself, almost hugging a body that suddenly felt cold. Her fingers moved one against the other, rubbing the thin leather of her gloves, reminding herself it was there. That reminder was all it took for her to half-consciously weave another layer of her shield. Protecting herself.

“Coward,” she whispered.

But she was remembering weeks before and an evil darker than anything she’d known in her life. Remembering the courage it had taken to remove her gloves and lower her shields and stand with only her abilities and her determination as weapons against that evil.

She had won that battle. But . . .

Nellie did not reach out to the crows, did not open herself to anything they might have told her. Instead, feeling cold and afraid, she stood there rubbing her upper arms and staring out her window.

Wondering if the crows were here as a warning.

Or a threat.

—

“HOLLIS?” BISHOP WAS still watching her.

She realized she was rubbing her left temple hard, and hastily lowered that hand, lacing her fingers together in her lap. She did not look at her partner. “Think maybe that shield you helped Nellie with might work for me?” she asked her boss.

“Since it’s formed of energy, quite possibly.”

“You might have told me that sooner.” She sounded more resigned than angry.

“So far, you haven’t demonstrated an ability to . . . weave . . . energy the way Nellie can,” he explained. “It’s my belief that’s a prerequisite to building that kind of shield, and it could be unique to her. And also, while you’re still acquiring abilities and struggling to master them, it could do more harm than good.”

“Figures. And no way to know, really, if and when that’s going to stop. Me acquiring new abilities, I mean. Might even reach a point of having to invent a few. Told you the Universe hates me.”