“All right,” I said, pulling to a stop on the narrow, winding road that cut through the mountain. Up ahead, a yellow barricade blocked both lanes, and a single police car sat beside it, lights flashing blue. “There’s the security checkpoint.” I glanced at Ember and St. George in the backseat, seeing a pair of strangers staring back. Like me, both wore black suits—or monkey suits as Wes so elegantly put it—and dark shades, the “few things” we had to pick up for this plan to work. I resented the fact that Wes didn’t have to dress up for this stupid mission; he got to stay at the cabin. I hated G-man suits; the tie around my neck felt like a noose, and the jacket was tight in all the wrong places. St. George, obnoxiously, seemed perfectly at ease in a suit and tie, probably used to being in uniform, but I wanted this over and done with as soon as possible.

“Remember,” I told them and the Asian dragon sitting in the passenger seat, “I’ll do the talking, but if anyone asks, we’re with the Department of Homeland Security. You two are assistants in training, so any questions should be directed to me or Ms. Long here.”

“And what are you going to tell them?” Ember wanted to know. “You don’t know any more about this Security Department than we do.”

“Department of Homeland Security, Firebrand,” I corrected. “And I might not be a Chameleon, but I am a master at bullshitting. Generally, I don’t need to know what I’m talking about. I just have to bluster and act like the person I’m talking to is wasting my time—basically be a giant dick—and most humans will cave. If you act like you’re supposed to be there, people will generally assume the same. What about you?” I asked the woman beside me. “Think you can BS your way past a guard?”

The Eastern dragon’s voice was dry. “I’m sure I can come up with something.”

“All right, then.” I faced forward and put the car into Drive. “Let’s do this.”

We cruised up to the barricade, stopping as the door to the police car opened and an overweight human stepped out. I rolled down the window, watching him with as much bored disdain as I could muster as the officer strolled up to the side of our car.

“Sorry, folks,” the human said, peering in at us. “The road is closed for now. You’ll have to take the detour around.”

I flashed the fake badge Wes had given me that morning. “We’re expected,” I said in a bored, I-can’t-believe-I-have-to-deal-with-this tone of voice.