Ash writes his name and scoops up the book, and we walk to the other side of the room, where there is a quiet seating area and no people.

I stare at Ash in surprise. “You wrote your name,” I say in a hushed voice. “I thought Strategia don’t usually keep written records.”

“A necessary evil from time to time,” Ash says quietly, and flips through the pages of the book. “And a way for Families to keep track of their correspondence.”

“Correspondence?” I ask, but there is no need, because Ash lands on a page that has a series of letters circled in pencil.

My eyes widen. I lean over the yellowed pages with him and ogle the letters. By the smudges on the page and the faint eraser marks, it’s obvious that the circles have been drawn and redrawn in countless configurations. Secret codes guarded by Strategia in public libraries—another example of how they hide in plain sight.

Ash stares at the page, his forehead wrinkling in concentration, reminding me of his twin sister. And the moment I think of Layla, I realize how much I miss her.

I study the circled letters, attempting to piece them together in some configuration that makes sense. I try them forward, backward, and one letter off in the alphabet, but it’s all just gobbledygook. And the longer Ash stares at the page, the more serious his expression becomes.

Finally, he closes the book and stands. “Shall we?” he says in a cheerful tone, which might just be an indication that he’s not going to discuss the message here, but for some reason his good mood feels ominous.

I nod and we return to the reference desk. Ash places the book on the counter and the girl stamps the ledger Returned like it was nothing more than a commonplace transaction. And then we weave our way out of the library as casually as we came in.

The moment we step outside, I turn to him. “The everydayness of Strategia is eerie,” I say.

Ash raises an amused eyebrow. “Is that so?”

“They’re just everywhere…lurking in libraries and hotels and who knows where else,” I say, and Ash laughs.

“You mean we’re everywhere,” he corrects me, and I realize that even though I know I’m Strategia, I’m still not comfortable identifying as one. While Strategia skill sets are awe-inspiring, the brutality I’ve seen is stomach-turning. And once again the image of the dead assassin from the woods flashes in my mind.

I shake my head, like the action might somehow erase the memory and the sense of dread that accompanies it. “So that book…,” I say. “Families leave messages for each other that way?”

“It’s less traceable than emails or phone calls,” he says. “Every Family has books and codes in libraries in major cities.”