And now I knew why Julian—his feral gaze, his lawless manner—set off my alarm bells. That first meeting on the dock stirred up blocked memories of Abel. That tiled room—why was I out in the storm? Searching for my mother? That gang of boys . . . but not Julian. He only looked like them.

Daniel stirred, listening, then got up, ghosting to the door. “Time to call in a drive-by.”

“More than time.” Julian inched open the window. Faint light still shone high on the gridded glass towers downtown. He nosed out his phone, ran a finger over it, then balanced it on the sill. Awaiting a reply, no doubt, from yet another confederate.

Seeing it reminded me of an issue from earlier. “You have working cell phones.”

“Sometimes they work.” Julian put his away. “Don’t yours?”

“Do you see me with a cell phone?”

“Not now, you two.” Daniel rubbed his eyes. “Nothing special about our equipment.”

“It’s special to me.”

“What I mean is, it’s not so hard to come by as you think.”

I laced my arms into the tightest package possible. “Then how come I’m running around the city with nothing more than a pry-bar and a friggin’ jackknife?”

He eyed me cautiously, like I might explode on him again. “Not my place to say.”

“Consider where you live, den rat,” said Julian.

Daniel eased back into the couch. “I don’t like talking against the dens. They’ve helped so many survive. There when no one else was. For me, even.”

“We were there for you, Danny. You just didn’t want to be there with us.”

“You know why, Jules. Choices were made I couldn’t get behind.”

I’d lost interest in Nathan family squabbles. “What’ve the dens got to do with it?”

“Everything.”

I waited.

Daniel sighed. “Okay, here it is. But you won’t like it. Let’s say that all the dens have not . . . kept up.”

“How you gonna keep ’em down on the farm . . .” Julian sang softly.

“Kept up?” I asked.

Daniel nodded. “Some dens prefer, even enforce, a . . . simpler lifestyle than is necessary, at least these days. Take Revelations: they’re not into sacrifice and discipline because it’s the only way to survive. They believe machines are evil, along with everything they produce. They’re Luddites. They don’t want to know what’s still out there and available.”

“Technophobes,” echoed Julian.

“I know that,” I said. “Won’t even go solar. But that’s Revelations.”