The plan’s easy. It only has three parts. Every part lasts about a minute. Kiera says it’s doable, if all of us perform well. It’s easy—if we don’t make any mistakes. This means we’re fucked if we go with the plan.

So I don’t.

This was why I wanted them to come along, Kiera says. To stop you from acting stupid.

I sneak past the bars thumping with loud music. The air’s almost visible, stuffed from the burning fireplaces and the sour smell of alcohol. Above the clouds already gather for tomorrow’s rain, hiding the moon behind layers of grey.

You can still turn back. Do things the safe way tomorrow. They’re going to be so mad at you, just imagine Izaak’s sad face when he learns you went without him.

This is the safe way. At least I can turn into a sparrow and fly away when I get compromised. Their plan involved ropes, pulleys, and me becoming a manticore.

The streets slowly turn quiet. The closer we get to the museum, the more my heart starts to thump. I can do this. I can.

Fool, Kiera says.

The back wall of the museum doesn’t have a lot of ledges, but it’s built in close with the old house across the alley. I scuttle upwards, pulling myself up through balconies and protruding brick. Inside the window a light turns on. I freeze as someone shuffles inside. After a few seconds the light turns off again and I release my breath. Even though I hate climbing, I don’t want to use any transformation magic until I have to—it’s too easy for Kiera to sabotage. If they block my magic while I’m a bird, I’ll be stuck like that until they say otherwise.

Do it, they say, I dare you.

My limbs ache when I reach the roof. Across the alley, the slanted top of the museum looms, a few hands higher than my current perch. No big deal. I make jumps like that all the time. First I slip on the mask I brought. The cheap plastic smells chemical and cost me a staggering seven Eyes, but it’s black with small cat ears, fitting the theme perfectly.

Showtime.

My feet push against the shingles, jumping the gap with as much momentum I can. I land on my hands and feet, sliding back towards the edge until my nails dig into the smooth marble. My blood rushes in my ears as I sneak my way to the skylight, a bowl of glass rising above the building. Inside the lights are off, but the white of Comet’s skeleton almost glows in the dark. There’s bound to be guards and familiars, plus a silent alarm to notify them if anything gets disturbed. But I’m confident I can still do it if I work out the timing. I settle in to wait for the guard to make their round.

River, Kiera says, I’m using my veto. I don’t trust it.

“Seriously?” I whisper. “No.”

No? Kiera squirms angrily, making me gasp as she coils against my skin. You can’t say no to a veto! That’s the whole point!

“I’m going down there,” I say through gritted teeth, “magic or not. Don’t you want to get your friend?”

Don’t talk to me about friends, they spit, not when you’re here alone. I haven’t lived this long by listening to teenagers! Go on and die then, release me to choose a new champion. I’m done with your selfish acts.

“I’m doing this for you,” I whisper back. They can’t hide their affection for Halley from me, not while our consciousnesses are linked. But then they should know I had no intention of bringing Sofia and Izaak from the start. The risk’s just too high.

They should know me.

I do know you think yourself invincible. But living amongst humans makes you forget you’re but a sparrow competing with hawks.

A guard enters the room. “Shit,” I mutter, because of course it’s Izaak’s Mom. I hoped she wouldn’t be here, but she must’ve subbed in for someone. Her flashlight shining left, right, up and down as she makes her way through the room. Poppy sniffs the exhibits, his pointed ears swiveling for noise. He’s all right, as far as familiars go, mostly because Sable Thomas, in her own words, ‘had more than enough practice raising beasts.’ He’s small for a familiar, an agile hound-type with soft scales protecting his underside.

Sable finishes her round, scanning the room one last time before disappearing. I count until she returns. She takes ten minutes. The next time she disappears I wait five, then push my hands against the glass, feeling it become alive under my fingers. Disappear, I think. Kiera pulls back, but magic like this comes easy. The dome shimmers, and then becomes intangible. That triggered the alarm for sure.

Don’t, Kiera pleads.

I jump down. It takes everything to stay silent, the underside of my feet pulsating hot pain from catching my weight. Comet’s skeleton bathes in moonlight, the surrounding monsters an audience to her show. The light reflects in their eyes, making them look too alive. Not much time now. I step past the ropes surrounding Comet. At full height she’d hit her horns on the skylight, but they posed her head close to the ground for the exhibit. An energy runs through her bones, just enough to jolt my fingers when I brush them past the prickly horns protruding from her jaw.

Something’s wrong, Kiera says. They unclog my magic, allowing it to flow freely between my limbs. It’s adrenaline, but worse, making your veins scream at you to move, your heart thump at you to act, your senses begging you to listen. Fly, they insist, fly away.

My hands find the point Comet’s skull meets her neck. “I will, after we save your friend.” I pull at the bones, but even with magic bursting from my fingertips they don’t give easily.

Suddenly the moonlight disappears. As my eyes adjust to the darkness the form blocking the skylight becomes clear. His wings stretch out around him like an umbrella, his claws digging into the roof to keep himself from falling.

“That was quick,” Zhran purrs. The moonlight returns as he clambers inside, careful to not hit Comet.

I act the moment I see the sky, transforming and flying past Zhran’s bulk. I dodge one paw, then two. His tail swipes at me, but I’m too quick, diving left as he lashes right. Then I zip past the dome, fresh air hitting my lungs.

Lightning winds up in Zhran’s throat.

Watch out! Kiera yells.

There’s nothing. I watch the sky fall backwards, my limbs heavy and unresponsive. Then the pain hits. Everything’s on fire. My skin is burning, my heart is a furnace. My fingers are glued to a stove, my chest’s buried in hot coal. The taste of metal meets the smell of smoke, while I keep falling.

And falling.

And falling.

Hit the ground, I think. Hit the ground and make it end. Someone speaks to me, their words unrecognizable through the fire. Soothing words. Angry words. Despair. I know it must be Kiera.

I hit something, definitely not the ground. Zhran caught me right in his meaty claws. He towers over me, his features shadowed by the moon. “Time to make good on your debt,” he says.