From his father’s office, the highest room of the HQ building, Escott stared out at the gray dawn, and the silent chaos it brought.

Sirens wailed, an announcement on loop. “Remain in your homes. This is a curfew. Remain in your homes.” It blasted every ten minutes.

The green body of the imp Guardian was more distressing than the fighting taking place in the break in the field where the imp once was.

Newbreeds should go there to help, but even Escott didn’t volunteer. He didn’t have it in him. Their imps had awakened from hibernation, but only a small few patrolled the streets. Escott wasn’t sure what they were hunting for.

They were rounding up people, though, and he judged from the wagon filled with children and the one-armed woman cuffed to it, Arma and company didn’t get far.

Someone came in and stood by his side. “The rain washed away most of the scent but not from the tunnels below. Anyone there at the time is getting pulled in.”

But Escott didn’t recognize anyone but Arma and her brood. There were at least a hundred people dragged from their homes and shoved into the streets. And those numbers were rising.

Without looking, Escott turned and allowed himself the gentle embrace. Clawed hands ran up his back as the grip tightened.

“I’ve never had trouble in the rain before. Mama. I was terrified,” he admitted.

A kiss came down on his brow. “You’ve been pushing yourself so hard. I thought being an enforcer would bring you and your father closer. This isn’t what I wanted.”

After one final squeeze, Escott stepped back—he wanted to appear strong and composed. The green skin and yellow eyes to greet him still felt safe.

“There’s no point in rounding these people up. You and I both know that Karen Blackwell is who needs catching.”

Escott wanted to believe otherwise. He hesitated confessing about the Topsiders. “What if I told you it was something else?”

“I wouldn’t believe it. Not even for a minute. One of our Guardian’s down. They’re virtually indestructible. Even I can’t imagine what she’s given him. But imagine if each and every one of them dropped dead tomorrow.”

The imagery made Escott’s blood run cold. It was impossible to even consider it. “But...but they protect us. Death to The Fan means death to her. Why would she do that?”

“I haven’t a clue but go out there before Jerret awakens. He’s still disoriented, the bigger the imp, the longer the recovery from hibernation. He’ll need all the support he can get to feel like we’re on his side. As the leader, he’ll think this was his fault.”

Escott nodded and turned to make his way out.

“One more thing....”

“Yeah?” Escott asked.

It took ages before the words came. “About Lilah....”

Escott stifled a groan and opened the door. “Not talking about that, ma.”

The HQ crawled with people. It also crawled with Elementals, fighting ones, the ones who didn’t mind reaping someone of their memories without consent.

A patch of blue hair caught Escott’s eye and he rushed to intercept it. He knew the height, he knew the walk, and when he caught the man by the shoulder and turned him around, he stared, stunned.

“Mr. Osbourne.”

Lilah’s father blinked at him. Today, his discolored blue hair sported a good deal of gray at the roots.

“Essy....”

Her father. It was her father and Escott was beside himself with fear.

“Lilah. Has something happened to Lilah?”

Osbourne patted his shoulder to calm him. “No. Nothing like that. I’ve been stuck in a detention center for the last month helping a distant relative reintegrate. But every Elemental’s getting called in for this. We need to find out who caused this. So...here I am.” He surveyed the crowd. “I haven’t seen Lilah. I wanted to talk to her before I go back.”

Escott couldn’t believe the nerve. “You weren’t even at the funeral.”

The man stepped back as if struck. “Oh. Yes. I...I suppose.”

“Suppose? Your twenty-odd-year marriage left you a widower and...and you couldn’t be bothered to show up to the funeral? Do you have any idea what that did to your children?”

The fear in Osbourne’s eyes might have meant he honestly didn’t know. That made it all the more difficult to stomach.

And then Osbourne said it, something incredibly stupid and cruel.

“She had you.”

Escott stifled a sound.

“I admit, I’ve thought about her and Gustov constantly, but...I knew they had family—people as good as family. I didn’t have that much and I missed them but...but I was afraid, and...and it’s been hard.”

A rush of enforcers spilled into the room, Elementals in their sleeveless all black uniforms accompanying them.

Harris was the last to enter. “Basic human rights are not our priority as of this moment. A Guardian lies dead out there. Let’s forget for a second how we will dispose of that body. Let’s forget for a moment how we’ll explain this to their leader. And let’s instead focus on the fact that an imp Guardian, the very ones who are constantly keeping that field recharged with their own bodies was singled out and murdered by an ungrateful bastard.”

A silence fell over the room. Even Osbourne watched on with a grim frown.

“It would take us weeks to cut that body up. And we can’t even bury it,” Harris said. “The only way to get rid of imp flesh is for other imps to consume it. So that means waking up three or more Guardians and asking them to do us that favor. And let’s assume whatever killed that one doesn’t then affect the others and have them all dying on us. The field is sustained by the raw energy those imps create. No field means bare sunlight, the harsh type that’ll ruin our crops. No field means no Guardians against neighboring Topsiders who’d be more than happy for new slaves. So we find this son-of-a-bitch and we find him at all costs. Is that clear?”

Harris stepped aside and Jan took the floor.

“This means that everyone gets scanned, including us,” Jan said, “even Elementals will be scanning other Elementals. Any secondary crimes you find, document. Harsh scans such as these tend to drudge up other problems. They can also lead to mild brain damage if people put up a fight. We’re willing to take that risk. We need a solution to this before our imps take matters into their own hands. There’s no rest until we get answers. Anyone who tries to walk away from this mandatory scan will be arrested, enforcers included.”

Several men went around handing out red badges, Escott took one.

“It’ll turn blue once you’ve been scanned,” Osbourne assured him. He patted Escott’s shoulder. “Do yourself a favor and don’t resist. As E’s grow tired, they start getting sloppy.”

All enforcers in attendance sat down with their backs against the wall. Five E’s, Osbourne and his twin included, stood in the center of the room.

Several badges turned blue. Escott observed that his wasn’t one of them—in fact, it turned pink.

The E’s clapped their hands and an energy wave encompassed them and pulsed outward. When it struck Escott, finally, his body tingled.

His badge turned black, as did those of two other people.

Osbourne seemed disappointed when he offered, “We’ll try it again.”

“No. No we won’t,” his twin said. “It stays black.”

The majority of the room showed blue badges.

Jan’s badge was also black, but she didn’t seem to mind. “Can you get the next floor down?” She pointed between herself and Escott. “We’ll be on the ground floor. Hopefully not in the pen.”

The pen. The holding pen.

Escott lumbered to his feet, puzzling about the badge change. He also wanted to call out to Osbourne. Lilah needed him. She needed to talk to him, to get an explanation, something.

But Osbourne walked out, and two other blue-badged enforcers ushered Escott and company to the opposite door—the stairs.

On their way down, three more blacked-badge enforcers joined them. By the ground floor, there were ten of them.

Another blanket scan by a new set of E’s turned that damn badge purple. That meant one thing, the pen. Jan didn’t have to go, she sported a blue badge by then, as well as a lengthy explanation to the record-keeping clerk. Jan believed Karen Blackwell was responsible. Jan believed this was Blackwell’s doing, and Jan believed Karen Blackwell should be locked up immediately.

Escott turned down the offer of giving a statement. He was the only enforcer ushered into that holding pen, aptly named for the mesh wire that encompassed it.

He found a free seat in the corner, away from the civilians who no doubt took one look at his uniform and made judgements of their own.

“My Arma,” a child cried. “I want my Arma.”

The kid’s matted hair and dirty clothes looked similar enough to the children beside him. Escott counted eleven of them—most in tears.

Another hour passed before someone in a robe stumbled into the pen.

The excited chatter made Escott pick his head up. Arma embraced most of the children, while others kept their distance. That same crying boy kept on crying for Arma despite Arma being right there. Escott wondered for a moment if the child could see at all. It seemed cruel of Arma to not go and make her presence known.

Cold and crowded, the pen filled with cries as another boy started to bawl for his Arma.

Escott finally stood.

Arma knelt between the two children, whispering, “Please hush. Please.”

“What’s wrong with them?” Escott asked.

The fact that Arma didn’t look up at him meant the woman had spotted him long ago.

“They want their Arma,” she explained.

“Thought you were Arma.”

“Arma is short for Areal Manager. I’m one Areal Manager. These aren’t my designated lot. They came in with mine.”

Escott tried to process that. He didn’t know much about the people beyond the Veil, just that their way of living differed. He came to one conclusion, though, people were people—children were children.

He reached down to pick one boy up, and then the other. Both were tiny, the other about three-years-old. Though they struggled at first, in time they calmed.

“I come from a big family,” Escott explained. “Wailing kids is child’s play.” He sat down and patted their backs. It took ages for them to quiet. When they did, he put them on the ground and went to the door to call out to a few Newbreeds on duty.

“Hey. Get us a few toys or noise makers.”

The Newbreeds traded a glance.

Escott said, “Unless of course you’re enjoying all this crying. We have a lost and found, damn it.”

There weren’t many toys, but it was something and he put them down. The boys took to them, though the older ones wasn’t as easily distracted.

The day progressed slowly after that. Escott gave his meal over to the children when he saw how hungry they were. Arma did as well but only partially. No Sasha.

Escott wondered if that meant something. Did he confess and he was held elsewhere? The children didn’t wear scanning badges, and yet, here they were.

He would have puzzled over it some more if Arma didn’t sit beside him, offering the meager remains of her meal.

“Thank you.”

Escott shook his head. “No. I’m good for another few days yet.” He pounded his stomach. “We have two guts.”

Arma gave him a curious look and then started on the food. Before them, two of the older boys, around nine or ten, patted the younger children’s back until they slept.

There wasn’t much to do but talk so Escott fished for something to say.

“They...they’re good with kids.”

After clearing her throat, Arma nodded. “That’s my lot. It’s not easy to farm well, but I managed.”

“Farm?” Escott looked at her. “You’re a farmer? Me, too. Mostly the corn, though. What do you farm?”

Despite the innocuous question, Arma only stared at him. Finally, she gestured to the children. “Them.”

“Pardon?”

Arma pulled back the hood of her robe somewhat. Maybe she was trying to get a better look at Escott’s face. As Escott suspected, the woman was bald. She also had no eyebrows and barely any eyelashes.

“You don’t know much about Topsiders, huh?”

Escott shook his head.

“Well,” Arma said, focusing on the children again. “The two genders are separated. Males are grown together; females tend to the cities and the palace. One lot of children consists of ten. An Areal Manager grows them up, training them and keeping them safe.” She paused then confessed, “I am not the...original Areal Manager of this lot.”

That Escott could believe. He judged Arma to be in her early twenties. If Sasha and Ice were a part of her lot, then it seemed unheard of to give a six or seven-year-old a ‘lot’ to raise.

“I suppose...that’s why I can’t do this well,” she muttered.

Escott considered it. “How long have you been f...farming?”

Arma glanced at him. “Ten years now. Mouse is my apprentice. My lot used to be well-behaved. Very well managed, but I’m afraid I’ve spoiled them. That’s why Sash and Mouse don’t listen to me. The original Areal Manager never allowed disobedience.” She rubbed her head. “Not even from me.”

The door of the pen opened often, people rushing it each time to yell out a protest. And each time after it closed, everyone went back to their seats. Escott didn’t bother moving, neither did Arma.

“They’ve got Mouse, don’t they?”

They? She must have meant the enforcers.

“Yeah.” Escott hated to admit it, but Ice was in a cell on the fourth floor.

And then Arma said it: “I turned us in.” She met Escott’s glare. “Told Sash to run and hide, and then I joined the lines and brought these guys here.” Her blue eyes explored the babies who were nearly all asleep with full bellies. “I’m hoping to get them adopted.”

Escott had no words to give. He could listen, but that was about all he resolved to do.

“Each lot is ten,” Arma said.

Maybe it was supposed to mean something, but Escott didn’t have the imagination for that.

“I didn’t kill that Guardian. I want you to know that.”

“And what were you trying to do?” Escott asked. His eyes met Arma’s, daring the woman to take up the challenge.

This so-called innocent and seemingly empty conversation must have been going somewhere. Escott wasn’t sure where, yet, but somewhere.

“Mouse is sweet on you....”

Escott raised an eyebrow at her.

“I know when your people lived underground, you had a big Topsider population. The laws are still in that favor.” Arma slowed in her speech but muttered, “And Mouse doesn’t cause much trouble. She’s sixteen and...if...if you’d wait on her another year—”

“Wait.” Escott cocked his head. “What?”

Arma’s breath hitched. Finally, she said, “Please. I had ten in my lot. I got here on foot, and it wasn’t easy. I had to take all the darkness from Mouse’s skin to keep myself safe in the heat. I had four with me when I went underground. It took weeks to get here and just before I reach...t...two of my older ones...they didn’t make it. I was trying to dig my way out when the imps pounced them.

“But...but it’s like they couldn’t see Mouse. I got back to her and Sash in time, but...I lost the other two. That’s when I decided it was too dangerous to risk it with the rest. And then I made a deal with a few underhanded people who said they could get my lot through the Veil. I tried to get Mouse there to get them, but each time the alarms sounds like someone told on us. Each attempt costs money and I’ve got none left.” She gestured to the children. “These ones are young enough to get adopted, maybe. But...but Mouse....”

“They’ll send her back,” Escott agreed.

“But maybe if she married an enforcer, they’d give her some leeway.”

Escott cringed. The expression on Arma’s face said the action hurt her, but she misunderstood. It wasn’t marrying a stranger that bothered Escott. It was marriage...at all. His last attempt had been fruitless, and he had a bigger problem.

“Imps mate for life. Chances are, Newbreeds do, too. I...I’m flattered by the offer, but....”

Arma held her left shoulder...where her arm should have been, fidgeting.

“Is there anyone you know who’s trustworthy? Who won’t...who won’t hurt Mouse? Who might be interested?”

Interested? There was no one at all. Who would be interested in that? Randomly marrying a stranger wasn’t the norm. Especially for free since Arma hadn’t offered payment—not that it would have mattered.

Escott debated the proper way to refuse the woman. He would have kept opening and closing his mouth in that attempt if someone familiar didn’t walk into the pen and sit with the other prisoners. Lilah.