“They are not that foolish.” Warden pushed back a layer of moss, revealing a silver padlock. A thin bar of white light appeared down the middle, as if a bulb inside it had been activated. “This padlock contains an ethereal battery. There is a poltergeist inside it. They intended to send a Rephaite guard with the emissaries to unlock it before power is restored to the line—but if you can persuade it to leave, the charge will fail, and the lock will spring.”

The marks on my hand stung.

“It cannot hurt you in your dream-form, Paige.” He knew. “You are best equipped to deal with a breacher.”

“Jaxon is a binder.”

“That will not eliminate the problem. The poltergeist must be persuaded—or compelled—to leave the object, not bound. Until it has been freed from its physical restraints, your friend cannot bind it.”

“What do you expect me to do?”

“You can travel through the æther. You can communicate with the poltergeist without touching the lock, unlike us.”

“There is no ‘us,’ Reph.” The voice came from an augur, a little older than me. “Get away from that lock.”

Warden stood with no argument, but he didn’t take his eyes off the augur. There was a heavy pipe in his hands, an improvised weapon from the city. “What are you doing?” I said.

“There’s no such thing as an ethereal battery.” His teeth were gritted. “I’ll deal with this. I’m getting out of here.”

He swung the pipe. It crashed down on the padlock.

A shock cut through the æther. The augur was blasted back twenty feet, screaming. “No, please, don’t. I don’t want to die. Please! I—I don’t want to be a slave! No!” He arched his back, shuddered, and was still.

I recognized those words.

“I’ve changed my mind,” I said. Warden flicked his gaze back to me. “I can deal with this poltergeist.”

Warden nodded. Perhaps he’d understood.

“Here they come!”

I looked up.

Beneath the moonlight, the NVD charged through the meadow. They were armed with riot shields and batons, escorting a cluster of emissaries. Birgitta Tjäder was among them, as was Cathal Bell. Tjäder spotted us first, and she gave a shout of anger. Nick raised his gun, aiming for her head. No point using spools on amaurotics.

I turned to face the prisoners. For the first time since they’d come here, they needed to be encouraged. They needed to hear a voice telling them that they could do this. That they were worth something.

That voice would be mine.