Eunjoo came running from the grasses of the sheep pastures, screaming. Calliope rushed down the steps, déjà vu sweeping over her. The Coyote girl that Eunjoo had once before become—had she returned? This time Calliope was strong enough to run, and she did, across the waffle gardens, past the honeycombed buildings, following Eunjoo’s voice.

Half expecting animal-yellow eyes, she caught the girl in her arms, both of them gasping for air. “What’s wrong?”

Her bird’s voice almost inaudible for its high-pitched terror. “It’s after me.”

“What?”

“The Suuke.”

That was impossible. They’d slain both Suuke, husband and wife. She’d watched them both die. Calliope glanced into the pasture. She couldn’t see far in the dark. The spring moon was nearly full and bright but still low in the sky. She could make out the shapes of the squat shrubs she knew were juniper, rabbitbrush, saltbush, sage. All too low to hide behind. She saw no monster. Piñon trees made a small forest further back, but Eunjoo wouldn’t have gone that far. She knew better.

“Where’s Nastacio? I thought you were with him.”

Eunjoo hung her head, bit her lip. “He left.”

“Where’d he go?”

Eunjoo shrugged, obviously hiding something.

Calliope grabbed her hand. “Let’s get back to the house. You can tell me there.”

She hadn’t felt truly scared since she’d come to Zuni. She was worried about the situation with Chance and his kiva elders, but she believed him strong and smart enough to work through it. She’d been confused and angry about the rock baby and the explanation in Arlen’s basement but then somehow oddly at peace. Her family was alive, and there was a way back to them, a hypothesis, really, but still, it was a possibility, and that’s all she needed—hope, and she clung to it.

But now she felt the ominous buzzing in her ears, the same as she’d heard outside the hangar, as she’d heard when she was a girl and the dust storm atop the mesa had made her and Bisabuela abandon their picnic. This was more than night insects chorusing. This was the Ancients, warning.

She tugged on the girl’s hand, picking her pace up to a jog.

“Why are we running?” Eunjoo asked.

“It’s dark,” Calliope said, knowing that was an insufficient answer.

The lights in Malia’s house were burning brightly through the windows. The back door was closed. She tried opening it, but it was bolted shut. They’d have to knock, something she’d never needed to do in Zuni before. Or go around the front. Step over rock baby’s threshold.

Her heart fluttered in her chest, a caged bird flapping wildly at the wires.

Eunjoo pulled on Calliope’s hand, hers slick with sweat. She whispered, “They’re here.”

“Who’s here?”

“The ko’ko.”