“You freaked us out,” I tell him. “You know you were up here making all kinds of noise, right?”

BK sits down at my feet. Sarah crouches down to scratch his ears.

“Can you ask him what he was doing?” Sarah says, looking up at me and Nine.

“Trying,” I reply, and Nine nods too, squinting at BK. “It’s a lot of images and feelings, you know? Not exactly words.”

“Telepathic barking,” Eight observes.

“Pretty much,” replies Nine.

“He says—” I pause, wanting to make sure I’m getting my interpretation of BK’s thoughts right. “He says he was calling the others.” I hold up the antler. “I guess that’s what this is for.”

“The others?” Marina asks. “You mean the Chimæra from Ella’s ship?”

“I guess so,” I reply, looking down at BK. Do you think they heard you?

BK rolls over onto his back, asking Sarah to rub his belly. I guess that’s the Chimæra equivalent of a shrug.

“He doesn’t know,” I say.

Nine shakes his head. “Well, crisis averted. I’m going to bed. Can we have a night without screaming or howling, please?”

Everyone else follows Nine downstairs, leaving just Sarah, BK and me. The night air is cool and, now that BK has stopped with the noise, it’s peaceful. I kneel down next to Sarah and put my arms around her. “Cold?”

“Not really,” she says, smiling. “But you can leave your arms. I see why you like it so much up here.”

We sit like that for a while, Sarah in my arms, both of us gazing out over the Chicago skyline. This is one of those perfect moments, the kind I need to save up and remember for when things get bleak.

And then, because maybe Sarah is right and bad timing is one of my Legacies, a dark shape detaches from the night sky and zooms towards us.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

“WHAT IS THAT?” SARAH CRIES.

“I don’t know,” I reply, springing to my feet and instinctively putting myself between Sarah and the black blur that’s descending on us. I fire up my Lumen, feeling some comfort in the fresh heat, ready for anything.

The dark form slows down. It’s definitely a person, I realize. The shape lands gracefully on the other side of the roof, its arms raised in a gesture of peace.

“Five.”

“Hey, guys,” Five says. “You’re up late. Did I scare you?”

“What do you think?” Sarah asks, gesturing at the fireballs still held in my hands. On edge, I finally let them dissipate. Five, wearing a black sweatshirt and pants, pulls down his hood so I can see his apologetic face.

“Shoot. Sorry. I didn’t think anyone would notice.”

I legitimately thought we were under attack for a second there, so my words come out harsher than I mean them to. “What the hell were you doing?”