“This is Capricorn, by the way,” I said.

“Hi Capricorn. Saw you on TV the other night,” Withdrawal replied. “They were driving average looking cars, but they’d slow down as they drove by, attention on the house.”

“What makes you sure they’re not after her?” Byron asked.

“One got out of their car,” Withdrawal said. “They talked, guy on the sidewalk, woman standing on her front stairs. Friendly-like.”

“What did they look like?” I asked.

“Normal,” Withdrawal said. “Regular clothes, jackets. Cars were mostly the same, beaters from Bet or garbage from Gimel. They dressed normal. But normal doesn’t circle the same block five or six times, driving real slow as they pass a house.”

“This is good,” Byron said. “Exactly the kind of thing we were hoping to get with the surveillance.”

“Agreed,” I added.

“Really?” Finale asked.

“Really,” I said, with conviction and extra emphasis.

“Finale was the one who saw the shopping bags,” Withdrawal said. “Got us thinking about what was up with this woman.”

“Fantastic,” I said, meeting Finale’s eyes.

Even in the gloom, everything already dark, made darker by the trees around us, I could see Finale smile.

“What do we do?” Withdrawal asked.

I wanted to respond. I glanced at Capricorn, instead. If I was compromised, it was his voice that mattered.

“We call for help,” he said. “This is bigger than us.”

“One of the major teams?” I asked.

“We’re not sure what’s going on with them,” he said. “Protocols. But I think it’s reasonable to assume that the most major team is clear.”

“If they’re available,” I said.

“Major?” Finale asked.

“Wardens,” I stated. I saw her eyes go wider. For her benefit, I added, “Dragon, Defiant, Narwhal, Chevalier—”

“Most are away,” Byron said. “Give me a second.”

He pulled out his phone.

“How was your stakeout?” I murmured, while Byron stepped a bit away, plugging a jack into his phone.

“Cold, wet, strangely exciting for there being so little happening for hours. We kept each other company.” Withdrawal said. “Listened to music when we weren’t watching out.”

“Withdrawal has recordings of a really funny radio musical,” Finale said, suddenly effuse, just over the mention of this thing she’d enjoyed. I smiled a bit, seeing it.

Caryatid, meanwhile, was almost one with the trees. She looked out in the direction of the house, but her face was one of butterfly wings overlapping, unfolding, flapping.

“Antares,” Byron said. “Look.”

I looked.

It was his phone. Red triangles cascaded down the screen, each with an old fashioned phone in the center. Network down, no service, no tower available.

I checked my own phone. Following my cue, the others checked theirs.

Caryatid dropped out of her breaker form, the butterfly-winged face slipping back to reveal her normal one. I saw her expression change. “They’re on the phone.”

“Who?”

“All of them.”

I had to step closer to a tree to look.