“Are you okay?” a male voice asks in the chaos, and a familiar face with a fussy red goatee leans down to help. It’s Victor Beschloss—one of the heads of the City Pride Program. A man who helped murder my mother. “Here, let me . . .”

I know the second his voice stops that he’s spotted the book. His eyes flick to my face and go wide. “Merriel Beckley?”

He blinks away his surprise, then raises his hand, waving to someone over my shoulder as I reach for the book. “I should have realized. You’re going to have to come with—”

Without hesitation, I grab the book and jam it into his throat. As he gasps and reaches for his neck, I crack the flat cover against his forehead. He staggers and hits the ground. I scoop up my bag and weave through the still-exiting crowd with one thought pounding through my mind.

He knows who I am. Not my Steward name. My real one. Which means they’ll be coming for me now. And not just me. They’ll be coming for my dad.

Nineteen

I have to get home.

There were men watching my house. If they are still there, I can’t go home.

My chest aches as I dash into an alcove not far from a bus station two blocks away and blink back the panic that is clawing into my throat. The public transit card belongs to the Stewards. If they are looking for me, they won’t be able to track my movements. Not with that. But my phone . . . they’ll be able to track that. I can only hope they aren’t doing it already.

Shaking, I dial, praying my father answers and that he hasn’t been drinking.

It takes three rings. “Meri? Where are you? You said—”

“Dad! You have to get out of the house.”

“I’m not going anywhere. I understand you’ve been upset, but you have to come home—”

“Dad!” I peer around the doorway down the street and spot the bus coming toward me from one direction and two policemen from the other. “Listen. I can’t come home, and you can’t stay. They’re coming.” There’s too much to explain and not enough time. “If you love me . . .” I take a deep breath. “If you loved Mom, you will go out the back door and walk down the alley to . . .” To where? The Lyceum is locked down. The Marshals will search Dad’s work and every restaurant and friend’s house we’re known to frequent. There’s only one place I can send him—to the place where all the Stewards who survived the night will be headed—Index’s station. “There’s a building on the North Side of the Loop.” I give him the cross streets and tell him to meet me on the corner.

“Honey, this is crazy. . . .”

“I know it sounds insane, but please. I love you. And I need you to do this. I need you to go.” The city bus whines to a stop at the curb.