“You’re safe enough,” Dorman said, reading my wariness. He slipped into the room ahead of me. “See? It only affects humans. We’re limiting the care staff to Nejeret volunteers. Besides, it’s not airborne, so far as we can tell.”

I followed him in. As my focus shifted from cot to cot, from feverish face to feverish face, my dread transformed to fear, then to anger. “They’re kids.”

Hands clasped behind his back, Dorman nodded. “Sammy—that’s the child who escaped from the lab—came to us six days ago. His friends brought him in, begging us to care for him. We had, of course, known about the children disappearing off the streets for some time. By the time we figured out what was happening, we were unable to do anything about those already taken, but for the past month or so, we’ve been offering sanctuary to any homeless child in Seattle in the hopes that staying within our boundaries might keep them safe.”

“I think it worked,” I said, nodding absently. “I have a friend in the PD. He said most of the kids vanished a month or two ago, before your offer of sanctuary. A few were abducted after, but with the pickings so slim…”

“That’s some comfort at least.”

“I’ll check in with Lex,” Dom said. “See if any of the kids they took to Bainbridge are sick.”

I scanned the youthful faces. “So Sammy was the first?” Some of the kids were awake, reading or chatting with their neighbors or curled up in the fetal position and crying. Others were out cold. “Who are the rest of the kids?”

“Sammy’s friends . . . and their friends, and so on.” Dorman settled his hazel stare on me. “There’s another room filled with more sick folks—adults, mostly. The infection seems to progress slightly slower with them, but nothing we do seems to help, really. Whatever this thing is, Ouroboros created it. If you could find the cure . . .” He inhaled and exhaled heavily, his eyes searching mine. “Most of the Nejerets who live here are here because they disapprove of the way our kind treats humans. Prove to them that you’re different—that Heru is different—and that your side cares about our mortal brothers and sisters, and you’ll earn the hearts and loyalty of every Nejeret here.”

I placed my hands on my hips and, slowly, nodded. “How many people are infected?”

“Forty-nine, and more every day. So far as we can tell, it’s contained within our walls. Thankfully, not many people leave this place.” Dorman’s gaze trailed off, landing on a cot in the far corner. “I’d just ask that whatever you do, do it fast. Sammy’s not going to last much longer.”

I reached out and squeezed his arm. “I’ll do what I can. If there’s a cure, I swear to you, I’ll find it.”

I sat tucked away in the corner booth at the Gull, a dive bar downtown on Pike Street, my tarot deck on the table before me, three cards faceup. The bar was far enough from Capitol Hill that I didn’t have to constantly look over my shoulder to make sure none of the Senate’s Nejeret watchdogs had found me, but it was close enough for comfort. A quick ten-minute bus ride would dump me on Broadway, just a block from my shop. Not that I’d been there in days, but knowing that Ninth Life Ink was so close was a comfort. Nik was there, looking after things in my absence. That, too, was a comfort.