There’s a discarded yellow poncho snagged on a downed tree branch a few yards away. I slosh over to it, pull it off, and wrap it carefully around the transmitter. It’s not much of a disguise, but it’ll have to do.

I grip the chest tightly, breathe through my anxiety, and start toward the city.

The only nearby entrance to the mines that isn’t a storm drain is through a condemned building in the middle of town. The streets are deserted, but as I walk through them, the hairs on the back of my neck prickle. All the times I’ve been stopped and searched here, all the cops who were so eager to catch me in the act. Back then, the need for court-worthy evidence kept them at bay. Now, if just one of them recognizes me or realizes what I’m carrying, we’re all done for.

My steps splash in the ankle-high water as I turn onto Banyan Lane. The intertwined trees arc overhead, their prop roots stretching toward the ground, dripping from the rain. The quiet, sheltered space beneath them feels like a cathedral. I can see why the tourists like them so much, my brother whispers in my ear.

The northeastern horizon is a dim gray between the branches. Ty is no longer that way, was never that way. But he still pulls at me like a lodestone anyway.

Whatever I have to do, I promise him again. My plan won’t be pretty. But there’s a chance it’ll work, a chance it’ll get me to him, and that’s all that matters.

I glance at the street ahead. I’ve reached a fork. To the left and right are boarded-up businesses. The building in the middle is an old bank, wedge-shaped, with broken windows and doors nobody bothers to lock. When I slip inside, my palm tingles with a faint, icy pain, making me wince. I shift the transmitter’s weight away from the injury as much as I can. The black veins have crawled all the way across my left shoulder now. I wish I could flip up my collar to hide them, even though nobody is nearby to see. How long has it been since the last wave of pain? With any luck, I’ll manage to get to my loft before the next one hits.

I wonder whether Elliott will be there waiting for me. If he escaped, if he’s okay. If my unthinking sacrifice with the scorpion was pointless anyway. I regret doing it. Probably.