Julian let us have a late start the next morning. We didn’t have to be down in the lobby until ten, but I was still sluggish, yawning as I put on my uniform and grabbed my weapons pack.
Laurence had texted me in the middle of the night, responding to the message I’d sent him before I went to bed. I scrolled through them as I walked downstairs and into the lobby.
“Everything OK?”
I looked up to see Julian standing in front of me. “Are there pictures of us kissing on Tumblr?”
He rolled his eyes. “Yes. Some weirdo took our picture.”
“Last night?”
“Yeah. Noah has made you all into mini celebrities, whether you like it or not.”
“It’s a nice picture, though!” Priya called. She was standing nearby with Laila, looking at her phone.
“It is, I guess,” Julian grumbled. “Why? Did someone say something?”
“My brother. He follows all the team seven stuff.” I clicked over to Tumblr to look. It was a nice picture. Julian had his hands on my cheeks. We looked happy.
“Why do you keep in touch with your brother?”
I glanced up, surprised. “Why wouldn’t I?”
He lowered his voice. “Because he didn’t protect you. He’s older, right?”
“He’s twenty.”
“Jesus. Yeah. He should have protected you.”
I didn’t think I agreed, but I wasn’t going to get into it with half the team standing nearby.
“Oh, you’re here,” Madison said, striding up beside Julian. “I thought you might take the day off since your parents arrive today.”
“Some of us actually take our responsibilities seriously, Madison,” Julian snapped. His words dripped with disdain.
I reeled back, surprised, and a contrite look crossed Julian’s face.
“Sorry,” he said with a sigh. “I’m . . . stressed.”
Madison just shot him an annoyed look and walked away.
“Have they arrived?” I asked. “Your parents?”
“They’re probably landing now.” He tugged on his lower lip. “I’m kind of on edge about it. My dad is . . . difficult.”
“I understand,” I said, reaching for his hand.
He smiled. “How are you feeling? I can give you the day off, you know. It’s no trouble if you need to recover. You can hide in my hotel room for the day, if you want. It’s just across the street.”
I shook my head. “I don’t need it.”
He looked like he might argue, but the rest of the team arrived in the lobby, a sudden whirlwind of noise and laughter.
Julian stepped away from me. “All right, guys,” he called, addressing the whole team. “We’re headed to a gym a few blocks away. We’re meeting a UK team there to discuss next steps.” He led us out the door and onto the sidewalk.
We walked for about ten minutes and then turned into an alley. To the left was a sign that said , above a doorway lined in red. The words were stamped into the wall. It must have been a boxing gym before the scrabs.
Julian reached for the door. A scream sounded from behind us.
I whirled around, already reaching for the machete on my back, but I saw nothing.
“Come on,” Julian said pushing past us and breaking into a jog.
We headed back to the street and around a corner in the direction the scream had come from. We all came to a sudden stop.
“I stabbed it in its fucking eye, and it’s still not good enough!” The yell came from an auburn-haired boy dressed in a black St. John uniform. He was in the street with four other team members—two girls and two boys.
Two scrabs were directly in front of them. They were both on the smaller side, maybe six feet tall, but with some of the longest claws I’d ever seen. They curved at the ends, almost reaching the ground even when the scrabs were standing on only two legs.
One of them collapsed suddenly. Blood poured out of a wound on its chest. The other had a spear sticking out of its neck. One of its super-long claws had broken off and was lying in the street.
The one-eyed scrab staggered forward, in the direction of the auburn-haired boy. His expression was annoyed, not scared.
“Connor!” one of the girls yelled, dark braid flying as she ran toward him.
“Sorry, no, I’ve had enough,” Connor said. He had both hands on his hips, apparently unconcerned about the approaching scrab. His eyes caught on us and lit up. “Americans!” he yelled, pointing. The scrab spun to face us. “Yes, perfect, attack the Americans.”
“Connor,” the girl with the braid said again, exasperated. She caught the scrab by surprise from the side, shoving a long machete into its neck. She quickly stepped back as it fell to the ground with a loud thump. She turned to us and smiled. She was maybe a few years older than me, with brown skin and wide, pretty eyes.
“Sorry,” she said. She had a British accent, like Connor. “We were at the gym, but we heard screams, so we came to help. I’m Saira. I’m the team thirteen leader.”
“The famous team seven!” a tall sandy-haired boy with a wide smile called, sidestepping a scrab body as he walked to us.
“I know you,” Noah said, pointing. “You’re Thomas Clarke.”
“That’s me,” Thomas said.
“YouTuber,” Noah explained to us.
“Oh, right, I follow you,” Madison said. Thomas’s grin widened.
“Anyway, this is thirteen—Thomas, Harry, Connor, and Mia,” Saira said, pointing to each member as she said their names. Thomas waved enthusiastically. Mia, a curvy blond girl, just squinted at us. Connor was still annoyed. Harry said something that I couldn’t understand.
“What did he say? What is that accent?” Zoe whispered.
“Scottish,” Madison said.
He spoke again, this time to his team members. Again, it sounded like a different language.
“Is that English?” Zoe asked. “Don’t Scottish people speak English?”
“I think . . . he said something about shorts?” Madison frowned as she surveyed the team. “Wait, no. No one’s wearing shorts.”
Harry and Mia laughed.
“You guys only have five people on your team?” Priya asked Saira.
“We had ten,” Saira replied. “They died.”
“Oh.” Priya obviously wished she hadn’t asked.
“There you are!” a voice called.
We all turned. Grayson was jogging down the street, bloody machete in hand. He slid it back into its holster as he stopped in front of us.
“I chased a few scrabs a couple blocks over,” he explained. He was breathing heavily, his eyes bright with excitement. “Did you tell them?” he asked Saira.
“I didn’t,” she replied. “Are they coming with us?”
“Yeah, I think that’s best. These two”—Grayson gestured to me and Edan—“Clara and Edan, they’re the ones who saw the farm in France. And Noah’s got cameras on half the team.”
Saira’s eyes flicked to the cameras on the chests of several team members. She appeared impressed.
“What’s going on?” Julian asked.
“Saira has a lead on a possible MDG facility,” Grayson said.
“Connor got it, technically,” Saira said. “Friend of his in North London keeps seeing dodgy-looking men going in and out of a self-storage facility across the street from his flat.”
“Self-storage?” Gage said skeptically. “Do you really think they’d put scrabs in a storage facility?”
“Why not?” Grayson asked. “The ones Edan and Clara saw had their vocal cords cut, so it’s not like they’re making noise. And that area has been almost demolished by scrabs in the last year or so. It’s a ghost town.”
Saira nodded in agreement.
“Did you tell the police?” Julian asked.
“I told them, but they said they can’t get to it right away,” Grayson said.
“That means bugger off and stop bothering us,” Connor translated.
“We get that response a lot,” Saira added.
“They did send an officer to do a quick drive-by, and she said she saw nothing. But it’s best if I check it out myself anyway,” Grayson said. “The police can only poke around so much without a warrant. Besides, my police contact practically told me to go for it.”
“I’ll bet he did,” Connor said.
“You seriously want to go break into a random storage facility?” Julian asked.
“It’s not random, we have a tip. And I wouldn’t say break in,” Grayson said. “Explore the area. Maybe stumble across an unlocked door. Or a mostly unlocked door.” He grinned.
“I’ve been a bad influence on you,” Edan said with a laugh.
“We’re not here to chase after MDG,” Julian said. “We’re supposed to be helping people.”
“We are helping people. By figuring out what MDG is doing with those trained scrabs,” Grayson said.
Julian’s jaw twitched. “I’m not getting arrested for breaking into a storage facility. That’s stupid.”
“Tell us how you really feel, Julian,” Edan said dryly. Julian shot him a contemptuous glare.
Grayson and Madison exchanged a look I couldn’t read. They could communicate with just their eyes, apparently. I couldn’t imagine having a relationship like that with my brother.
“It takes the police at least an hour to respond to calls in that area, if they come at all,” Saira said. “Trust me, you’re not getting arrested.”
“And you’re free to go back to your hotel, if you want,” Grayson said calmly. “Any of you can opt out of this assignment.” He pointed at the end of the street. “Vans should be waiting. Let’s go.”
The team began to move in that direction, but fingers closed around my wrist, keeping me in place. I looked at Julian curiously.
“Let’s get out of here.” He said the words softly, but Noah and Madison obviously heard them as they walked by. They both shot us disapproving looks. I’d never seen such scorn on Noah’s face, actually.
“Great team leadership as usual, Julian,” Noah said. My eyebrows shot up. Did Noah dislike Julian? Maybe Madison had been badmouthing him to Noah.
“Sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong as usual, Noah,” Julian snapped back. “I told you that if I wanted your opinion on my training methods, I’d ask for it.”
Or maybe Julian totally deserved that look Noah was giving him.
I drew my arm from Julian’s grasp as Madison and Noah walked away.
“This isn’t what we signed up for,” Julian said, returning his attention to me. “Let’s get out of here and let Grayson be an idiot by himself.”
“We can’t abandon the team,” I said, exasperation in my voice.
He shrugged. “It’s their choice to go.”
“Julian . . .” I frowned at him. It wouldn’t kill him to show a little concern for his team. “I’m going. I’ve seen an MDG facility before, maybe I can help. And I think you should go too.”
He let out a deeply annoyed sigh. “Fine.” He looked like he was going to reach for my hand, but I really didn’t want to hold his hand right now. I turned and quickly walked away.