The guard led them to a barren room with only a small window and no furniture, which made Jamie wonder just what kind of interrogations happened there. “Wait here,” said the guard, and stepped out, shutting the door behind him. The sound made Nick jump.

Everything had made Nick jump since the moment they’d set foot on the island. His eyes widened, his head held slightly back, nostrils flared as if scenting the air. He stamped a foot, seemingly not even aware he’d done it.

“Here now,” Jamie said soothingly. He put a hand to Nick’s shoulder. “This place has you spooked, don’t it?”

Nick swallowed, throat working. “Of course it does.”

“I ain’t blaming you.” Jamie stroked Nick’s arm. “Just hold on for a bit, all right? We’ll be out of here soon, I promise.”

“I keep telling myself that.” Nick let out a long breath. “They’re locking up ferals here, just because they can turn into animals that frighten them. Just because the ferals don’t want to be stuck with a witch.”

Jamie felt sick. If Hurley could see this, would he still think the squad’s work was worth the promotions and medals that came with it? “I know. But we can’t do anything about it right now. Just focus on what we’ve come for, all right?”

Nick nodded. “All right.”

The door swung open, and two guards appeared, dragging a woman between them. She was gaunt, her hair dirty, dressed only in a tattered shift. Cuts and sores surrounded her mouth, and with a flush of horror Jamie realized she must be kept muzzled in wolf form.

She cringed violently the moment she saw them. Her lips peeled back, a low growl emanating from her throat, but Jamie thought it came more from confusion and fear than any violent impulse.

“Leave us to talk to her, will you?” he asked.

The guards looked at him as though he were insane. “She’ll change into a wolf and kill you,” one protested.

“Leave,” Nick said, glaring at the guards.

They exchanged a look, then one shrugged. “We’ll be back in fifteen minutes to clean up the mess.”

The moment she was released, the woman ran to a corner, nearly on all fours, as if she’d forgotten how to stand up straight. How to be human. Or, rather, how to be a familiar.

As soon as the door shut, Nick took a step toward the woman. She growled, and he stopped immediately. “Velma?” He pitched his voice low. Soothing. “Do you remember me?”

Her golden eyes blinked, and something like recognition came into her face. “N-Nick?” The word came out half cough, her voice rusty as a gate unused for a century.

“Yeah.” Nick crouched in front of her, his expression grim. “It’s me, Velma.”

“Velma.” She said the name slowly, as if tasting it. “That’s me.” She lifted a thin, dirty hand and stared at it. “I’m a familiar.”

Saint Mary, maybe this hadn’t been such a good idea. Jamie had thought interviewing someone held inside the Menagerie might bring them answers, but what could this broken wretch possibly tell them?

“That’s right,” Nick said. All the anger was gone from him for once. Instead, he projected an aura of infinite patience. Of strength like a stone, which any flood would break against. “We have some questions for you. Do you think you can answer?”

After a long moment, she nodded. “Yes. I think.”

“As far as the warden knows, we’re here to ask you about an illegal hex ring,” Nick said.

Her yellow eyes narrowed in thought. “No. I never—”

“We know. It was just an excuse.” Nick held out a soothing hand. “There was a feral brought here not long ago. Last night, he was murdered in Central Park. According to the warden, the body was misidentified and he’s still here. Have you heard anything about an escape?”

It seemed a lot to ask someone in her condition. She bowed her head, and Jamie wasn’t certain if she was considering, or simply overwhelmed by all the words. Then she spoke, her voice a low, rasping growl. “No. Not an escape. The guards come. Take some of us. Those they take never come back.”

A chill ran through Jamie. “What do you mean?”

She closed her eyes, shivering in her thin shift. “They never come back.”

Jamie wished there was a chair for her to sit in. He took off his coat and held it out to her. She glanced at him, then at Nick, who nodded. Taking it, she wrapped it around her thin shoulders, her slight figure appearing even smaller. “I don’t know when it began,” she said. “At first, it didn’t happen often. The guards would come for someone in the middle of the night and take them away.”

“So not the orderly release of a prisoner,” Nick said.

“Worse now.” She tugged Jamie’s coat even tighter. “More and more disappear. None come back. The lion was one. I noticed—we don’t get many of their kind. They came for him in the dark. Haven’t seen him since.”

There came a sharp rap on the door. “Still alive in there?” a guard called. “Time’s up.”

Velma snarled and tried to press herself even farther into the corner. “Nick, tell them. I didn’t mean to hurt Jenny and the baby. Gin. Anger. If only I’d been in wolf form, I wouldn’t have been drinking. They’d still be alive.”

The guards came inside. “Leave her to us,” one ordered. He held a hex in his hand, no doubt to force her back into wolf shape.

Nick stared at him, every line of his body tense. Jamie put a hand to Nick’s arm. “We have to go,” he said, and squeezed muscles drawn taut as wires beneath Nick’s coat.

For a moment, he wasn’t certain if Nick would back down. Then Nick seemed to collapse into himself. “Yes,” he said, and let Jamie lead him back out, past the guards and into the fresh air of the courtyard.

Neither of them spoke until they were on the boat and starting back across the Little Hell Gate. “You all right?” Jamie asked.

Nick stared straight ahead. His brown skin looked unusually dull, his black eyes flat. “Of course.”

“Don’t be that way. Not with me.”

Nick tipped his head back. Clouds gathered, on the verge of rain, and mist beaded on his hair. “Velma didn’t kill her sister-in-law because she can turn into a wolf. She did it because she can turn into a human. That’s what none of these idiots understand. It’s not our animal nature that makes us dangerous.”

Silence fell between them again. But as the boat finally pulled up to the dock, Nick said, “What do you think they’re doing with the prisoners? The ones who disappear? Luther was murdered in the park, but what about the rest of them?”

“Hell if I know,” Jamie said. “But it ain’t nothing good, I promise you that.”

“I can’t stop thinking about something Luther said, when he was being arrested,” Jamie said as they made their way back from the docks.

Nick blinked, then seemed to shake himself out of the introspective mood that had gripped him. “What?”

Even lost in thought, Nick had matched his speed to Jamie’s despite the long legs that could have outdistanced him easily. It was something Jamie had noticed from the start. Nick never seemed impatient at Jamie’s slower gait, nor did he act like some sort of martyr for keeping to his pace. Even when he’d been angry at having to work with a witch, he’d always taken Jamie as he was. Not tried to assign him a role as invalid or war hero.

Jamie moved closer, so their arms brushed as they walked. “He begged them not to arrest him, because he had a wife and children back in Illinois.”

Nick cursed. “They won’t know he’s dead. I’ll try to find out who they are, so I can send word. Maybe pass around a collection plate at Caballus, so they’ll have a little something to get by on for a while.”

“Let me know when, and I’ll add some to the pot.” Jamie hesitated, feeling suddenly ashamed. “At the time, I thought he was a fool. Why didn’t he just bond with a witch, instead of causing so much trouble for everyone?”

Nick kept his gaze straight ahead. “And now?”

“Now I think I was the fool.” They paused to let a wagon pass by. “You said your mother didn’t want to bond, because it would take her away from you. Luther surely felt the same way. He was working in New York, but he must have hoped to go back to Illinois, or bring his family here. He’d built a life of his own, and now the law said he had to give it up. What else could he do but hide and hope for the best?”

For a moment, Nick seemed to weigh his answer, though Jamie didn’t know why. Eventually, though, he only said, “Not a thing.”

“I’m going to talk to Uncle Hurley about this.” Jamie hunched his shoulders. “I don’t know that he’ll listen, but this has to stop. Not just the killings, not just whatever’s happening at the Menagerie, but the entire Pemberton Act. Maybe if the two of us go to Roosevelt together, he’ll listen.”

Before Nick could answer, a brown and white streak dropped from above, startling a passing horse. A moment later, Bess stood in front of them on human legs, her dark eyes unhappy. “There you are! I’ve been looking everywhere for you, Nick.”

“What’s the trouble, Bess?” Nick asked.

“The park.” She shifted from one foot to the other. “Meet me near the Dairy.” Then she was gone, back into hawk form and away.

Jamie blinked. “Well. I suppose we ought to go see what she wants, then.”

Nick gazed after her, his expression troubled. “I suppose we should at that.”

They made their way to the park as quickly as possible. After so much walking, Jamie reflected he’d be glad to get home and take off the leg for a while. Bess found them just as the ornate loggia of the Dairy came into view, its cheerful yellow and red paint bright against the brown pasture surrounding it.

“So what’s this about?” Nick asked, as soon as she landed.

Bess pointed at the Dairy. “Ask how the cows are.”

Nick and Jamie exchanged a glance, then Nick shrugged. “All right. We’ll be back in a few minutes.”

“Meet me at Playmates Arch,” she said, and flew away.

“A woman of few words,” Jamie observed.

“Indeed.” Nick shook his head. “I can’t help but wonder if she was always this way, or if…” He trailed off.

“She ain’t Velma,” Jamie said softly. “And even if she was, it would be by her own choice.”

“You’re right.” Nick flashed him a wan smile. “Come on. Let’s see whatever it is she wants us to see.”

They passed beneath the colorful loggia into the building itself. A counter inside sold sandwiches, coffee, ice cream, and of course fresh milk. A woman with three children in tow stood at the counter, while the man on the other side shook his head sadly. “Sorry, but we don’t have any milk today,” he said. “You’ll have to go to the market.”

“But it’s expensive,” the woman protested. She pulled a patched and worn shawl tighter around her shoulders. “And not as healthful as milk from the park, everyone knows that. My girls—”

“Are going to have to get their milk somewhere else,” the man interrupted. “Or invent a hex that can make milk out of air.”

The woman left. “Out of milk?” Jamie asked, once she and her children departed.

“That’s what I said.” The man spread his hands apart. “Damned cows have gone dry. First time I’ve ever seen, but there you have it. I’m sure things will be back to normal soon enough.”

“I’m sure,” Jamie murmured, though he wasn’t.

They met Bess at Playmates Arch. Falling leaves streamed on the breeze, but it seemed to Jamie that some of the trees weren’t just readying for winter. Bark peeled off in sheets, and dead branches littered the walkways.

“Do you see?” Bess asked.

“The cows have gone dry,” Nick said. “And the trees are dying.”

“The cows haven’t just gone dry. They’ve sickened. The pasture has died.” She gestured to the trees. “I’ve lived here for twenty years. I’ve never seen so many dead trees. It’s as though a blight has settled into the soil, the water, the air.”

“Remember the tree near the owl?” Jamie asked. “In the Ramble? It was dying, too.”

“I remember,” Nick said, and Jamie felt a little flush of heat, recalling what they’d done in the Cave after. “Something is wrong here.” He nodded at Bess. “You did the right thing, letting us know.”

Her grave expression cracked slightly, a hopeful smile just bending her lips. “I figured you’d know what to do, Nick.”

Then she was back in bird form, her red tail bright even amidst the yellow and orange leaves. Nick stuffed his hands deep into the pockets of his coat. “I wish to God I did,” he said with a heavy sigh.

Jamie stared past the shuttered carousel, to the Dairy and the Pond beyond. The first row of buildings was just visible past the Pond, a reminder that they stood in an oasis in the heart of the largest city in the United States. “This has to be connected to the murders. To the blood hexes.”

“Agreed.” Nick shook his head slowly. “But how? The hexbreaker said he didn’t sense anything but the Great Hex.”

“Could they be some kind of…I don’t know…anti-hex?” Jamie made a vague gesture encompassing everything and nothing. “Like an antidote to a poison hex, such as the one Uncle Hurley used on Roosevelt to save him. Except this one is breaking down the Great Hex.”

“That’s a question for Dominic. Or Yates.”

“It’s getting late, but this can’t wait.” Jamie glanced at Nick. “I’ll write a quick summary and send it to Dominic via courier familiar. Expensive, but the MWP can reimburse me. Then after, maybe we could get dinner, before you go to the saloon?”

“I’d like nothing better,” Nick said with a regretful smile. “But I have some things to do this evening I can’t put off.”

“Oh.” Jamie tried to hide his disappointment.

Nick bumped him with his hip. “I’ll see you in the morning, at the Coven. Bright and early.”

“All right.” Jamie hesitated, but there was no one else around to see. So he grabbed Nick’s shoulders and pulled him down, just enough to brush a kiss over his lips. “Something to think about when you’re alone in bed tonight, then.”

Nick’s dark eyes were hot, and he laughed softly as he stepped away. “That I will, witch. You can count on it.”

That night, Nick stepped out into the slot of an alley behind Caballus. Far too narrow to admit a cart, it mainly existed to give the fire escapes at the rear of the buildings somewhere to let out onto. He took a deep breath, smelled garbage and coal smoke. The misty day had turned to a cool, foggy night.

Perfect.

“No one’s here,” Nick said. “Come on out.”

The fugitives from the cellar emerged into the night air. “Free air at last,” Conrad said.

“Don’t get overconfident,” Rachel replied. “We’re still in danger.”

Nick nodded. “We go fast and quiet. The fog should help. If any coppers approach, leave them to me. If we’re separated, continue straight to Bryant Park. The contact there will take you to the ferry. Understand?”

There came murmurs of assent from the three adults. “Is it…very far?” the girl asked. Fear put a tremor in her voice. “Where we’re going?”

She didn’t mean Bryant Park. Nick wished he could tell her it was just a short trip, and then she’d be safe forever. No more fear. No more people looking to lock her up, just because of her animal form. But he couldn’t, so he only said, “I’ll get you there safe. I promise.”

“What if I get lost in the fog?”

Nick held out his hand. She took it; his big fingers curled around her entire hand easily. “There,” he said, giving her what he hoped was a comforting smile. “You just stay with me, and it’ll be all right.”

“Can we get moving?” Conrad asked impatiently.

Nick shot him an unfriendly look, but led the way out of the alley. The streetlights shone softly, haloed by moisture, illuminating the air around them more than the sidewalk or street. Buildings loomed out of the mist and vanished again. Cabs appeared with unnerving suddenness, the clop of the horses’ hooves muffled. Saloons and brothels seemed to be doing a rousing business, though; people wanted something to warm them against the chill outside.

“The fog’s a blessing,” Rachel said in a low voice. “The Lord looking out for us.”

Hopefully, the fog and damp would keep the coppers either tucked away somewhere warm, or prevent them from noticing the small group. Nick led the way up 37th Street to Sixth Avenue without incident.

Finally, in less than half an hour, the fugitives would be out of his hands. Nick could stop looking over his shoulder. Stop worrying he might accidentally let something slip to Jamie.

He’d almost told Jamie today. Maybe not everything, but that there was another way. That people did try, that the dangerous ferals hadn’t been abandoned to their fate by everyone.

He hadn’t. Not because Nick believed Jamie would bring the matter up with his uncle, but because he feared Jamie might let something slip, if he knew. By accident of course, and if the risk had just belonged to Nick, he might have told him then and there.

Too many others were involved, though. This group was almost to safety, which meant he and Kyle would also be safer, at least until the next batch came through. Though he wasn’t sure he’d be able to sleep soundly again anytime soon, not after what he’d seen today.

The Menagerie had been so much worse than even he’d expected. And Velma…

That might be him, someday. Bridled, hobbled by chains. A cruel bit in his mouth. The memory of his life as a familiar slipping away one day at a time. How long would it take to forget altogether? To not recall his human shape, human thoughts, human cares. Would he even forget Jamie, in the end?

Nick shivered. He couldn’t let himself focus on what might happen. If he froze, he’d be useless to everyone. He had to keep moving forward; it was the only way to take care of the ferals who depended on him.

“What was that?” Conrad asked. The tiger brought up the rear, and turned to look behind them.

They all came to a halt. “What do you mean?” Nick asked. The girl tightened her grip on his hand, and he gave her fingers an absent squeeze.

“I thought I heard someone behind us.” Conrad cocked his head, listening intently.

Nick did the same. For a long moment, he heard only the sounds of distant singing from some music hall. Maybe Conrad’s imagination had gotten away from him, in the fog and the dark.

There came a faint sound, like the careless scuff of a boot on the sidewalk. A rattle accompanied it, a dry click of bone on bone that brought all Nick’s senses to attention.

For the first time, he cursed the night and fog that made it impossible to see more than a few feet in any direction. He strained his ears, and the soft rattle came again.

A figure emerged from the fog. Two horns rose from beneath the black hood, one of them broken off halfway from Jamie’s bullet.

The Wraith.