“Shite,” Wes muttered, and ducked back into the room, hurrying to his laptop. We followed, crowding around the chair, as his fingers flew across the keyboard and his shoulders hunched in concentration.

“All right,” Wes muttered, his nose very close to the computer screen, making it hard to see around him. “A rail yard, you said? That shouldn’t be terribly hard to find.” He typed a few more things, and the screen flipped to a large map of Las Vegas. “Okay,” Wes mumbled, zooming in until street names appeared on-screen, “this is where we are now. And here—” he scrolled over the map “—is the site of that abandoned hotel. So, now we’re looking for a railroad… Wait, that must be it.” The mouse arrow circled a confusing jumble of lines and squares on the map. “About five blocks east from the hotel site,” he said. “Right on the edge of town. Bollocks, Riley, what were you thinking? You don’t run away from the lights and crowds if the Order is chasing you. Certainly not to an isolated warehouse in the middle of nowhere.” Sitting back, he eyed us over the chair back. “If they’re down there, that place will be crawling with dragonslayers. You’ll be walking into a death trap.”

“We don’t have a choice,” I said. “Riley’s in there, and he’s hurt. Besides,” I went on, glaring at him, “I thought this was what you wanted. It’s my fault he’s in trouble, isn’t that what you implied?”

“That doesn’t bloody mean I want you to rush into a trap and get your stupid head blown off,” Wes snarled back. His eyes flashed, staring me down, before he sighed and scrubbed a hand through his hair. “What do you think Riley will do if you get yourself killed?” he went on in a softer voice. “He nearly lost his mind the last time you were hurt. If anything happens to you now, he’ll never be the same. Riley is the beating heart of this underground, but if you die, the resistance might very well die with you. Because he might not have the will to care anymore.”

I blinked in shock. Wes sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose, his face taut with pain. “I just want you to think, hatchling.” He sighed. “To come up with some sort of plan, otherwise you’ll all be killed.”

“Don’t worry about that,” Garret broke in, and Wes turned to eye him wearily. “I know St. George,” he added. “I know their tactics, and what they’ll be doing. We’re not going in blind. I’ll get them out.”

“I’m coming, too,” Faith said.