“I’ll take that as a compliment.” He returned his attention forward as Anna took a step. He followed her, and Maisie followed him, staying exactly on the path.

They went that way for several minutes, no sounds around them but the buzzing of crickets. It might have been peaceful, if not for the fear of getting blown up.

“Oh no,” Queso said suddenly.

Everyone stopped.

“What do you mean, oh no?” Beto called.

“Duck!” he yelled.

Maisie lifted her chin to see a bird heading straight for them. A shiny, silver bird.

“Don’t move your feet!” Queso yelled.

The bird was soaring straight toward Maisie’s face with alarming speed.

She bent her knees, careful to keep her feet planted. She covered her head with her hands.

Cold, hard claws landed on her hands. She yelped, trying to shake them off. She felt a scratch, and then a flap of wings.

“What are those things?” Ivy yelled.

She felt metal again on her hands. A beak pricked her left hand, and she yelped, swinging her arms out.

Her feet moved, just a little. She froze.

Ahead of her, Lennon looked over his shoulder. He started to turn.

“No, no, don’t—”

The bird dive-bombed her face again. She put her hands up, desperately trying to keep her feet in place. She grabbed a wing.

It was metal. Not an animal at all, but human-made, shaped like a bird.

The bird flapped its other wing, squirming in her grasp. She threw it.

It sailed through the air. One wing sagged uselessly. She’d broken it.

The bird dropped. A bomb shook the ground.

In front of her, Lennon lost his footing and swayed dangerously.

She leapt forward, grabbing him around the waist. They both tilted to the right, but she wrapped her arms tightly around him, holding him steady. They stilled.

She felt him let out a breath. His hands covered hers. “Thank you.”

“Sure.”

In front of them, Ivy, Anna, and Queso were all watching over their shoulders. Maisie carefully stepped back, keeping her feet in line on the dirt path.

“What the hell was that?” she asked.

“Watcher birds,” Queso said. “They’re fucking with all the Spencers right now. And this is a Spencer field, so they must have assumed.”

“Watcher birds?” Maisie repeated. “Who controls them?”

“If the Spencers had figured that out, they’d be dead,” Queso said.

“Are you part of the Spencer family?” Maisie asked.

Queso turned around. “Let’s go. We’re almost there.”

LENNON

FOR THE RECORD, Lennon thought land mines were stupid. Whoever invented them was stupid, and whoever put them in that Spencer field was stupid.

Or just evil.

He was still having a hard time breathing, ten minutes after clearing the field. He might never breathe right again, actually. His nerves were shot for life.

Queso had put the five of them in the back of a van and then left them for unknown reasons, and Lennon leaned his arm against Maisie’s. There. That was almost better.