We turned down an alley, then walked up a loading ramp, past several men in work coveralls, and into a dark warehouse.
“Leo’s waiting,” one of the workers growled.
We were marched through a kitchen buzzing with chefs and waiters who pressed themselves against the walls to let us pass, careful never to make eye contact. We walked through a ballroom, through a plush bar that was gloomy at midday but nearly half full with patrons, then up a gilded staircase, to an office.
The office was big and fancy, with fine carved wood and touches of gold. At the far end, behind a hulking, mirror-polished desk, a man sat waiting for us. He wore a black pinstriped suit with a loud purple tie and a cream-colored felt homburg that didn’t quite match the rest of his outfit. A tall man stood next to him, looking like an undertaker, all dressed in black.
As I was walked toward him, the man at the desk stared at me. My skin prickled like it was being probed with icicles. He was playing with a letter opener, pushing the point into the green felt of his desk, leaving little divots. His eyes shifted, and in short order Emma, Millard, and Bronwyn were hauled up beside me.
Noor was not among them. I wondered what they’d done with her, a chill of dread going through me. Then Wreck, Angelica, and Wreck’s two flunkies were rushed in, a goon attached to each of them. Dogface was nowhere to be seen; clearly, he’d made his escape.
“Leo, good to see you, been too long,” said Wreck, making a hat-tip gesture though he didn’t wear a hat. His flunkies were silent.
Angelica bowed. “Hello, Leo,” she said, her cloud a polite size and hugged close to her body, as if it, too, were intimidated.
Leo pointed the letter opener at her. “You better not rain in here, angel face. I just had this carpet steamed.”
“I won’t, sir.”
“So.” Leo aimed the opener at us. “This them?”
“That’s them,” said Wreck.
“Where’s the dog boy?”
“He got away,” said the tall man, his voice a snaky slither.
Leo gripped the letter opener a little tighter. “That ain’t good, Bill. People are gonna get the idea that we’re soft on crime.”
“We’ll get him, Leo.”
“You better.” He looked to Wreck and Angelica. “Now, as for you. I heard you were attending an illegal auction.”
“Oh no, nothing like that,” said Wreck. “These peculiars here?” He gestured to my friends and me. “We were trying to hire them. It was a . . . job fair.”
“Job fair!” Leo chuckled. “That’s a new one. You sure you weren’t trading them under the table? Inducing them via threats or intimidation to render services to you free of charge?”
“No, no, no,” Wreck was saying.
“We’d never do that,” said Angelica.
“And what are you supposed to do with outsiders?” said Leo.
“Bring them to you,” said Wreck.
“That’s right.”
“Frankie thought they were nobody special, that’s why—”
“Frankie’s a mental midget!” Leo shouted. “Sorting out who’s nobody and who’s an infiltrator ain’t her department. You bring outsiders to me and I sort ’em out! Got it?”
“Yes, Leo,” they said in unison.
“Now, where’s the light-eater?”
“Cooling her heels in the lounge,” said Leo’s man, Bill. “I got Jimmy and Walker with her.”
“Good. Don’t be rough on her. We want to try and make friends first, remember.”
“Got it, Leo.”
Leo turned to us. Took his feet off the desk and sat forward. “Where you from?” he said. “You’re Californios, ain’t ya? Meese’s people?”
“I’m from Florida,” I said.
“We’re from the UK,” said Bronwyn. Her voice sounded raw.
“We don’t know who Meese is or understand any of what you’re talking about,” said Emma.
Leo nodded. Looked down at his desk. Was quiet for a strangely long moment. When he looked up again, his face had gone ruddy with anger.
“My name’s Leo Burnham, and I run this town.”
“Whole East Coast,” said Bill.
“Here’s how this is gonna work. I ask you questions and you answer straight. I’m not a guy you lie to. I’m not a guy whose time you waste.” Leo raised his hand above his head and brought it down hard, stabbing the letter opener deep into the top of his desk. Everyone in the room jumped.
“Read the charges, Bill,” said Leo.
Bill flipped open a pad of paper. “Trespassing. Resisting arrest. Kidnapping an uncontacted peculiar.”
“Add lying about their identity,” said Leo.
“Got it, Leo,” said Bill, scribbling.
Leo stood up from his tall chair, walked around behind it, and rested his forearms on its golden trim. “After the wights and shadow beasts skipped town and things started to open up,” he said, “I knew it was only a matter of time before somebody tried to make a move on our territory. I figured they’d start by trying to pick off one of the podunk loops on the outskirts. Missy Fineman’s outfit out in the Pine Barrens. Juice Barrow’s joint in the Poconos. But to come after one of the most powerful ferals we’ve seen in I don’t know how long, and to do it right in our backyard in broad daylight—” He straightened as he said it, spittle flying in a flash of anger. “That’s not only brazen, it’s an insult. That’s the Californios saying, ‘Leo’s weak. Leo’s sleeping. Let’s just waltz into his house and steal his piggy bank, because we can get away with it.’”
“You’re clearly quite upset,” said Millard, “and while I certainly don’t want to upset you further by disagreeing with you, we simply aren’t who you seem to think we are.”
Leo came out from behind his chair and stood in front of Millard, who had been forced to wear a striped gown that made it harder for him to slip away unnoticed.
“Are you from here?” Leo asked, his tone even.
“No,” replied Millard.
“Were you trying to remove that feral?”
“What’s a feral, exactly?”
Leo punched Millard in the stomach. Millard doubled over and groaned.
“Stop it!” Emma shouted.
“Bill, tell ’em what a feral is.”
“A peculiar who don’t know they’re peculiar and ain’t yet allied with any particular clan or crew,” Bill said, as if reciting from memory.
“Feral” seemed to be another word for uncontacted—but more derogatory.
“She was in danger,” I said. “We were trying to help her.”
“By taking her out of the five boroughs.” Leo sounded incredulous.
“To our loop in London,” said Bronwyn. “Where she’d be safe from people like you.”
Leo’s eyebrows went up. “London. See, Bill, it’s worse than I thought. Now we got limey peculiars coming after us, not just Los Californios.”
“She’s not one of you, and she’s not yours,” I said. “It was her choice to come with us.”
Leo straightened his collar and came right up to me. His goon’s grip on my arm tightened. “I don’t know if you’re really ignorant or just pretending to be,” he said quietly, “but it don’t matter. The law is the law, and it’s the same law all over this country. That light-eater’s a local, and inducing her to leave is a crime—one you’ve admitted to. I got no choice but to make an example out of you.” He raised his hand and slapped me, and it happened so fast I didn’t have time to prepare myself for the blow. The shock and force of it almost knocked me over.
“Bill, get these punks out of my office. Find out who they are, and don’t be afraid to put the screws on. We’re done looking soft.”
“You got it, Leo.”
I saw Emma’s face as we were being dragged out, and she saw mine. I mouthed, We’ll be okay. But for the first time since we’d left my house in Florida days ago, I really wasn’t sure.
That was the first time I met Leo, but it would not be the last.
I couldn’t tell you how long I spent in that cell. It felt like days, but it was probably less than twenty-four hours. There was no window, no sun, no furniture other than a cot and a toilet. The only light was a bare bulb that never stopped burning, and under those conditions the passage of time becomes harder to gauge, especially when you’re suffering from loop lag and your body hardly knows what time it is in the first place.