Talulah closed her eyes. I heard only the edge of her telepathic wake-up call, but it was enough to shock my nervous system. “They’re awake.”

Minutes later, we’d gathered everyone in the living room. I sat on the old loveseat next to Lena, while Nidhi perched on the end. Talulah and Jason were on the floor. Jeneta plopped herself down on an old beanbag chair, while her father stood beside her, his arms crossed. Lex, Toby, and Angie sat on the couch, where Lex munched sleepily on a strawberry Pop Tart. Deb sat in the corner, chewing her thumbnail.

I was tempted to send Lex away. To send all three of them to another room. Jason, too. This wasn’t their fight.

“I know what you’re thinking,” said Toby. “These people threatened my daughter. We’re not leaving.”

I nodded. “Talulah, can you please explain the IAS Project?”

She stood up and began to pace. “The International Alert System was a proposal for sending emergency warnings via TV, radio, cellphone . . . pretty much anything with a speaker. Charles and I had been working on a way to predict natural disasters. We were hoping to tie the two projects together. It would let us warn people sooner, giving them more time to reach shelter.”

“How far did you get with that proposal?” I pressed.

“It was ready to go. I had a list of texts to use, and a plan for compiling their tech into a single program.”

“Enough of a plan for another libriomancer to complete your work?”

“Possibly . . .”

None of her answers came as a surprise, but each one was an additional weight, crushing any remaining hope that I was mistaken.

‹What are they doing with my work, Isaac?›

Lena swore under her breath. “The sirens.”

Talulah paled.

“Lawrence McGinley sent the USCGC Kagan and two other ships to capture a group of sirens,” I said. “They were transported to a facility in Virginia to be tagged and cataloged. Lena, Deb, and I tried and failed to rescue them. If McGinley were to broadcast the sirens’ song through the IAS, he could kill thousands of people.”

“Hundreds of thousands,” Talulah said. “Millions, if they calibrate the broadcast just right.”

Jason raised a hand like a student in class. “Are you talking about sirens like Odysseus-tied-to-the-mast, songs-luring-sailors-to-their-death, and all that?”

“That’s right,” I said. “Their song creates a sense of longing and emptiness nothing can fill. It’s like reliving every loss and disappointment in your life all at once, and only the siren offers any hope of relief. That despair is what caused sailors to throw themselves overboard.”