The human ended the call. Lowered the portable phone from his ear. And stood there like a robot waiting for instructions on whether he was cleaning the floor or about to do a load of laundry.

“Can I ask you something?” Qhuinn rolled his eyes at himself. “Stupid question. I could ask you for your bank accounts right now.”

“Do you need them? They’re on my computer upstairs.”

“Nah, I’m good. You paid me seven million for this place about a year ago.”

“I paid you? So this was your house.”

“My parents’, actually. How you likin’ the place?”

“It’s good. I like it fine. It needed updating.”

“Well, you’ve certainly left your mark on it.” Qhuinn indicated the phone, which was an old school cordless. “My question is, why you still got a landline, my guy? You don’t have the alarm wired into your cell? For like, the security feeds?”

The man’s shoulders drooped and he rolled his eyes. “My daughter threw my iPhone in the toilet tonight.”

“Bummer. How old is she?”

“Three.”

“Cool. Hey, do you know about the rice trick? You put the phone in a plastic baggie full of the stuff. It works. Or you could just buy another.”

“I’m going to get another one—”

“Ron?” a female voice called down. “Is someone there?”

As Qhuinn shook his head, “Ron” yelled back, “No. It’s just me on the phone with the alarm company. Go back to bed.”

“It’s cold,” came the petulant response. “You need to come back up here.”

Like good ol’ Ron was her electric blanket.

“Ron?” she repeated.

“Give me a minute, honey.” The tone was level, but the expression was tight, like he was gritting his molars. “I’ll be right there.”

“You know,” Qhuinn murmured, “I don’t envy your life, my guy.”

Ron took a deep breath and lowered his volume, too. “The three-year-old wants to sleep with us all the time. Susie had to get her mommy-tuck redone two weeks ago. And I think my partner is stealing from the firm.”

“Wow. When was the last time you got high?”

“Three hours ago. It’s the only way I can shut everything up.”

“So I was right.”

“About what?”

“Doesn’t matter.” Qhuinn shrugged. “Well, as much as I’ve liked talking to you here, Ronnie boy, I’ve got work to do. So you need to go upstairs and tell your wife again that everything’s fine. It’s nothing. And then you’re going into your office, and you’re going to delete the security feeds from tonight. Let’s say, from eleven forty-five to two a.m. After that? You go to sleep. Oh, and when that alarm technician shows up here, don’t be a fucking douche, ’kay? You got a lotta things going for you, there’s no reason to be rude.”

“Okay. I won’t be. Promise.”

“Attaboy, Ron.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re so welcome.”

The man nodded and turned away. As he shuffled off, he walked like a man whose lower back hurt. Or maybe it was all those miles running on those fifty-six-year-old knees.

A moment later, there were footfalls ascending the stairs, and then a door shutting. And then more footfalls overhead, walking into another part of the house.

Good ol’ Ron, following directions.

Bracing himself yet again, Qhuinn went out into the front hall, and found more of the same decor, the modern, black-and-white, strange-art theme like a rash on a body. Everywhere.

Pausing, he looked to the wall where the big-ass mirror had always hung, the one where guests could check their appearance when they arrived, or his parents could inspect their own whenever they left. Such mirrors were standard issue for glymera houses. Always right by the front entry.

No mirror anymore.

Now? It was a picture of four hubcaps. That probably cost more than a Lambo.

Unbelievable.

Qhuinn mounted the steps one at a time. Funny, when he’d thought about coming here, he’d imagined himself rushing through the rooms and the hallways, all scrambled and freaking out. Not it. Instead, he took his time, looking at the weird shit hanging along the staircase’s wall—he was pretty sure it was a school of taxidermied goldfish, except they had Barbie heads on them?

What a transformation.

And it was not hard to find a metaphor in all of it. When he’d been here with his parents, he’d assumed everything in the house, like his destiny, had been unalterable. Not true, as it turned out.

When he got to the head of the stairs, he looked to the right. Just more barren black-and-white floors, and stuff on the walls that could have been created by first-graders. Then he turned to the left. Luchas’s bedroom was all the way down at the far end. As the preferred son, he’d been given the second-best-appointed suite in the house, behind only the master and mistress’s.

God, his chest hurt, he thought as he started walking again.

When he got to his brother’s door, he glanced down at his feet to gather himself—only to have a chilling thought when he focused on the hall’s glossy tiles. Mother . . . fucker. That hiding space of his brother’s. When they’d redone his room, had they pulled up the floorboards, too—

He shoved the door open. And let his head fall back. “Shit.”

The whole room was black and white. Including the floor, which had been—surprise!—tiled in black marble. Whatever his brother had hidden there, under that old, loose board? Was no doubt gone.

“Whatcha doing, mister?”

At the sound of the squeaky voice, Qhuinn cranked his head around—and had to look down again. Standing in the hall, in a Frozen nightgown, was a human young of about five or six. So not the one who’d sunk the phone in the loo.

The little girl was staring up at the intruder in her house without any fear. “That’s my older brother’s room,” she said.

Qhuinn cleared his throat. “It was my older brother’s, too.”

“Really?”

“Uh-huh.”

As she tilted her head to the side, her hair, which was the color of Ron’s, moved over her tiny shoulder.

After a moment, she said with suspicion, “Are you allowed to be here, mister?”

Look, you need to just go.”

As the words were spoken to him, Blay stopped in the middle of the plowed downtown street and looked over at Z.

“I’m sorry?”

They were deep in the field, walking a row of urban apartment houses, all of which were dark and pockmarked with broken windows. There had been nothing enemy-like anywhere to be seen, but that was not to be trusted. Somewhere in the winter moonlight, shadows were lurking, stalking. Taking orders from the new evil.

“You need to go to your boy.” The Brother’s yellow eyes scanned around. “That’s where your head’s at.”

“No, I’m here.”

“Physically.” Z focused on him. “Mentally, you’re checked out, so you better head back home and see about him. He needs you.”

Blay made a show of looking up and down the street, doing the two-can-play thing. As he thought about how to respond, he was aware of Z just staring at him. So yeah, fronting was not going to be his best option, was it.

Clearing his throat, he said, “He’s not at home.”

“Where is he?”

“He went home.”

Z shook his head. “You just said he wasn’t there—”

“Sorry, to his old home. His parents’ old place.”

“Shit.”

“But listen, I can still function out here—”

“After the raids, you buried his parents there, didn’t you. And his sister. And you think he’s okay going back to that property?”

Blay cursed and rubbed his nose. After he sneezed from the cold, he said, “Luchas sent him there on a mission. According to Luchas’s note, he left something in his room and he wants Qhuinn to handle it.”

Putting his hands on his hips, Z closed his eyes. Then he cursed and activated the communicator on his shoulder. “Tohr, we’re taking ten. I’ll check in when we’re ready to resume.”

Blay started waving his arms. “No, really, I can just—”

There was a soft hiss. Then Tohr’s voice: “Roger that. I’m shifting V and Butch over to your quadrant.”

“Thank you.” Zsadist released the communicator and stared across levelly. “Where are we going? I know what happened at the house, but I never had the address.”

Blay linked his arms over his chest and shook his head. “He wanted to go alone. And I’d like to respect that.”

“He will be alone.”

“No offense, but if we’re on the property, that happens how?”

“He doesn’t see us.” Z leaned in, the ambient light of the city making the black daggers holstered over his heart gleam. “You honestly aren’t worried about him?”

“Of course I am. But we lived apart from each other for the last week, even as we were sleeping in the same room. We just got back on track. I don’t want to mess that up.”

“If you check on him because you’re concerned for his welfare, do you really think he’ll hold that against you?”

“I don’t know.”

Blay let his head fall back on his spine and looked to the sky. But if he was expecting any help with the decision from the muted show of stars, he didn’t get any. Besides, there was only one thing to do, wasn’t there.

So, yup, he told Z the address, and one after the other, they dematerialized to the street in question. As they re-formed on a sidewalk that had been snow-blown with ruler-worthy precision, Blay had chills—and not from the below-zero temperature.

“It’s okay, son,” Z murmured. “Let’s just gather the breath, shall we.”