“Verus. Talk to me.”

“Icecats.” I kept my voice low. “They’re going to force an entry at the back. They’ll come through the kitchen and the picture window, then sweep towards us.”

“Can we get them as they come in?”

“No, it’s a trap. They’re going to pause at the entrances—get you to show yourself so they can get a clear line of sight. That ice mage is somewhere in the back garden—”

There was a scraping sound from the kitchen, very loud in the darkness. Leo whimpered and tried to huddle into the corner. Caldera glanced back at the front door. “They going to come from the front as well?”

“Don’t think so.”

Another scraping sound, and I heard the sound of splintering wood. “I’ll take the cats,” Caldera said, and I knew she’d made her decision. She came up to one knee, staring into the dividing wall as though she could see through it. “You stay with the kid.”

“Wait. There’s something else.” I could see confused futures of another path through the combat, something hulking and big. “Another construct, I think . . . but it’s not there yet . . .”

The door broke with a crunch and I fell silent. I could hear the distant sounds of the city drifting in through the now-open back door: traffic, an aircraft overhead, a TV from somewhere. No voices or shouts. There were people in the houses all around us, but no one had raised the alarm. It seemed crazy that we were fighting for our lives and the neighbours hadn’t even noticed, but they couldn’t see the futures that I could. All they’d have seen was the window breaking and the scuffle with the icecat, and that had been over in seconds. They probably hadn’t even heard it over the TV, and by the time they’d gotten to the window to look, it would have been all over.

Footsteps padded through the kitchen on the other side of the divider. I could hear the icecat’s movement, smooth and heavy. No breathing. To my sight the construct’s futures were solid lines in the darkness, easy to predict. Another was about to break in, and I signalled for Caldera to stay where she was.

There was the crash of breaking glass, shockingly loud. Leo jumped, and I covered his mouth before he could yelp; his eyes were wide and I could feel his quick breath against my palm. The dividing wall blocked our view of the icecats, but I knew where they were—one was to the left in the kitchen, the other in the broken remnants of the picture window, a little more than five feet from where Caldera was crouching.

Silence. The icecats were waiting. There was no variation in the lines of their future; they were following a program, not under direct control. They would wait another ten seconds, then close in. I tapped Caldera, then took my hand away from Leo’s mouth and held up ten fingers where Caldera could see. Then I held up nine fingers, then eight.