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“It’s not them,” Perry said. “It’s . . . something else.”

“What?”

“I think Chelsea Jewell was talking to me. Talking to me through the triangles.”

Dew longed for the days when he could hear something like that and say, You’re f.u.c.king crazy. But Perry Dawsey wasn’t crazy. This was just another facet in his waking nightmare.

“What makes you think it was Chelsea?”

“I’m taking a guess,” Perry said. “It was a little girl’s voice. Chelsea and her family got out, she’s a little girl, I’m making the connection.”

“You’re a regular Columbo,” Dew said.

Perry stared, then smiled a strange smile. “That’s more of a compliment than you can know.”

There was probably a story behind that, but now wasn’t the time. “So you had Chelsea Jewell in your head. Tell me why that scares you so bad.”

Perry leaned back a little and stared up at the black winter night.

“Power,” Perry said. “It wasn’t like when the triangles talk to me. This is something different. I don’t know, Dew, not all of these things have easy definitions, but she wanted . . . never mind what she wanted. She’s got power, Dew. Big-time. Whatever she is, it’s nothing I’ve felt before.”

“What about her parents? You get anything from them?”

Perry shook his head. “No, just her. We need to find her. Deal with her.

Before she gets stronger.”

“We’re working on that, kid. We’ve got an APB out on Clan Jewell. Every cop in ten states has their pictures. Now, come on, we have to get the gate location. We have no maps this time—it’s Bernadette Smith or bust. Let’s get back in the trailer and ask some more questions.”

“I’m not going back in,” Perry said.

“Don’t be a p.u.s.s.y,” Dew said.

Perry’s eyes widened, and the corners of his mouth turned up in a slight smile. He pointed a finger at Dew. “Don’t. Push. Me.”

Perry turned and walked into the darkness.

Dew let him go. There was a time to lead, a time to follow and a time to get the f.u.c.k out of the way. He’d seen that look on Perry’s face once before—when the kid had been coming right at him, smiling, wide-eyed, naked and covered in blood, hopping on one foot with his severed c.o.c.k flopping in his clenched fist.

Yep, definitely the time to get the f.u.c.k out of the way.

The Orbital couldn’t understand it. It had given Chelsea very specific instructions.

Chelsea, I told you not to talk to the destroyer.

I know you did.

So she hadn’t forgotten. She remembered the order, yet she had disobeyed anyway.

If you knew it was for bidden, why did you do it?