Marcus ran from tree to tree down Kira’s old street, eyes searching constantly for anything out of the ordinary—a rustle of leaves, a face or a body, a broken door or window. The Partial army was barely half an hour away, battling what was left of the Grid’s desperate last stand. He needed to leave East Meadow altogether, but there was something he had to do first.

Xochi’s house was closed and shuttered, like all the other houses in the city. He knocked on the door, eyeing the trees suspiciously—this was, after all, the house where Heron had accosted him.

Marcus heard a bolt slide, and Xochi opened the door. “Come in,” she said quickly, bolting it solidly again behind him. The house smelled like basil and nutmeg and coriander, a cacophony of competing aromas. Xochi set down the shotgun she’d been holding, going back to her frenzied packing, and Marcus stood uncomfortably in the middle of the room.

“What brings you here?” asked Xochi, looking up from her half-filled backpack. “I thought you’d be halfway to our safe house by now.” Xochi and Isolde had picked a central point on the island where their group of friends could flee and rendezvous if—or when, really—the Grid defense failed. Marcus didn’t answer right away, still trying to think of how to start—he had so many questions, but was this a topic she’d even want to talk about? Xochi frowned, noticing his indecision, and gestured toward the kitchen. “Do you need anything? Water? I got a bushel of lemons I’m not taking with me, I could whip up some lemonade.”

“That’s okay.”

“It takes like thirty seconds, it’s fine if you want some—”

“No, thank you,” said Marcus. He worked his chin and lips, as if warming up his mouth for the conversation, but it was just a stalling tactic. He still wasn’t sure how to start. He sat down, then stood up nervously and gestured to the couch. “Sit down.”

Xochi sat solemnly. “What’s going on, Marcus? I’ve never seen you like this before.”

“I talked to Kira,” he said. Xochi’s eyes went wide, and Marcus nodded. “Three weeks ago was the first time, when Haru and I were on the front lines. Six, maybe eight times since. I don’t know where she is, but she’s been listening to our radios and the Partial radios and feeding us information—nothing that could win us the war, obviously, but enough to keep Haru and me from getting killed.”

“Is she okay?”

“She’s fine,” said Marcus. “Better than we are, at least, though that’ll change pretty quick if they can find her. Dr. Morgan is pouring every resource she has into this.”

Xochi nodded. “That’s what Isolde told me. Apparently this entire invasion is about finding her. Do you know why?”