Food continued to arrive after that: masses of pizza, pasta, breads, salad. I ignored the green stuff, except to dig out the cheese, but managed to sample everything else. The Compasses and Quale did me proud by demolishing every scrap of food not tied down. Mischa and Grace made pitiful attempts to keep up.

It was remarkable Italian fare, rich and authentic. Someone knew what they were doing in that kitchen. I couldn’t wait to dine at the other restaurants. Maybe being stuck here for the next month wouldn’t be too bad.

As I was stuffing my mouth, I noticed two little girls sitting at a table across from us – a different restaurant, but right in my line of sight. They looked so familiar.

I leaned in Braxton’s direction. “Are those young supes from Nash’s group in Vanguard?”

They were dead ringers for the two who had torn my heart out, hugging each other. Braxton followed my gaze and stared for about three seconds before nodding.

“Yes, they were in the room.”

He’d probably scented them from over here. Dragons were scary like that.

I examined the girls again. They were sitting with other children, and a few adult shifters. It was no wonder I didn’t immediately recognize them. In Vanguard they had been thin, dirty, and expressionless. Here they were well dressed, clean, and clearly filling their mouths with food. They looked almost content. Well, except for the shadows deep in their eyes. No matter how relaxed they appeared, their body language still screamed of fear and wariness … yeah, not a huge surprise. Those poor children had been caged their entire lives.

I just hoped they found a semblance of peace in this sanctuary. The Four needed to die. Braxton distracted me by reaching across and grasping my hand. He didn’t say anything, but the look on his face said enough. He got me.

Rabbit boy appeared again, dropping off dessert before scampering away. I was almost too full to enjoy it, but I’d push through. Braxton released my hand, allowing me to reach for the chocolatey goodness.

Just as I was about to bite into my pastry, a nervous tension filtered through the street. Followed by an excited cheer that echoed around the market square, I dropped my uneaten sweet back to the plate. Then, as we stared around, supernaturals started running along the streets. Chairs were flung free and left overturned in their place, as if no one had the time to stop even for a moment.

I locked in on Quale. “What’s happening?” This secure – and suspicious – little community didn’t strike me as the type of place where supernaturals went nuts and started running in the streets. They were a little too dark in nature, dark and damaged. So what the hell was happening?