I did remember, but I wasn’t going to tell him. “Shut up,” I whispered.

“This isn’t necessary,” Bruce said. “The evidence—”

“It is necessary.” Christophe’s words cut across his as if he was the one in charge here. For all I

knew, he probably was. It certainly looked like he was from here. “You won’t believe me. You may

even hide the evidence or lie about it. But the word of a svetocha . . . who can stand against that?”

The words were nasty, each one a ragged bullet of rage. They scraped against the inside of my skull

like a nosferatu’s glassine hatred.

Did Christophe have any idea how he sounded? He sounded like his father.

I wanted no part of any of this. I just wanted to be left alone, so I could figure out how to escape

this place. “Shut up,” I whispered again. “Shut up.”

“You’ve made your point, Chris.” Augie’s arm tightened around me.

Christophe whirled away, the fury around him smelling of burnt insulation, broken glass, pain, and

the colorless fume of fury. His boot heel made a black mark against the marble floor. “I don’t think I

have. How many years has it been since the Order has been able to save a svetocha? We find them,

certainly. We even find them before they bloom. But the nosferatu snatch them, sometimes mere

hours, a half-hour, before we do. Why? Why is that?”

Kir moaned again. “God in Heaven. I didn’t know. I didn’t know.”

I wondered if he was trying to convince them or himself.

“Shut up, Kir,” Hiro said quietly. “Or I will kill you myself.”

He sounded like he meant it, too.

Sounds of papers being shuffled. “These are legitimate.” Alton sounded as sick as I felt. August

swayed again.

I opened my eyes and tried to brace him. Under the bruising, blood, and dirt, he looked gray. It

wasn’t good. “Augie?” I sounded as small as I felt. “You okay?”

“Marvelous.” His split lip leered as he tried to give me a smile. “It’s been a rough week, Dru. Been

chased by every nosferatu on the planet, feels like, since my pad was blown. Was a real trick to get

to the dropoff and get the information Dylan—”

“Dylan?” The breath left me. “He’s alive?”

“I hope so.” August’s pained expression told me everything I needed to know. “He sent it ’fore the

other Schola was broken, Dru. Figured he could trust me, I guess.”

“Of course they are legitimate,” Christophe snarled. “I ask again, why have you been unable to save

other svetocha?”

“Wh-wh-why? Marcus actually reeled and dropped down into his seat. It creaked a little under him.

“Dear God. Why?”

The assembled djamphir whispered to each other.

I had a very bad feeling about this.

“Because,” Christophe said finally, as if he was answering a question in class, “the Red Queen