Jackertown is a crazy mix of urban renewal and decay.

The crumbling brick of most buildings speaks to the fact that we’re still in the land of the demens—that no man’s zone between the downtown towers where people still work and the sprawling suburbs where the range codes are enforced and all the good readers live. The part between was given over to the demens first, jackers second, and now the demens-turned-hyper-jackers.

And apparently me, as I’m here a lot lately.

I expect to see the boarded-up windows, the slowly molting concrete, and the cracked asphalt. I don’t expect the gleaming steel-and-glass storefronts dropped here and there like forgotten toys on an abandoned lot. A couple of the newer constructions are red brick and stone, in honor of the original Chicago architecture, but most are thoroughly modern with plasma lights shining into the street and lighting up half the block.

All the available autocabs were taken by the injured, so Hinckley and I had to hoof it past ten blocks of mostly-darkened storefronts and abandoned factories before we reached ones with lights inside. Another five blocks of trudging show just how big Jackertown has grown since it was formed less than two years ago. When we hit the main drag where the renovated and wholly-new buildings are, it’s like an electric oasis, hazing the night sky into a buzzing gray. Even the streetlamps work here.

It’s late, but the sidewalks are bustling with people.

The biggest crowd is outside a steel-framed façade that blazes Health Clinic in red neon above the double-wide glass door.

Hinckley and I haven’t spoken the whole way, but now he pipes up. “Let’s check on the wounded first. Then I’ll worry about getting you settled.”

“I’ve got a place to stay,” I protest. “And a job I need to be at in the morning.” He gives me a dark look, so I hastily add, “But I’m here as long as you need me tonight. And I can come back tomorrow to help out with… whatever.”

He gives me a sharp nod, and we reach the edge of the crowd. Hard to tell in the washed-out light if they’re refugees from the attack or friends come to help. Hinckley threads his way through, and the crowd easily parts for him. He gets nods all around whereas I get open looks of curiosity—and several brushes against my mindbarrier that are just soft enough to ignore.

Once we’re inside the clinic, the noise kicks up a notch.

The dozen people in the waiting room are obviously from the club—dusty clothes and hair, harried looks. Most are sitting. A woman walks between them with a small e-slate, taking information. She’s older, my mom’s age, with the same long brown hair that’s streaked with gray. My chest tightens unexpectedly, and I realize I haven’t seen my own mother in literally years now.

She looks up as Hinckley and I make our entrance.

“Hey, Mrs. Moore,” he says. “Is Kira here?”

She nods, only flicking a quick look at me. “She’s in back with Anna. I called them both in as soon as I heard.” Then she gestures to an empty seat next to a mid-twenties girl with a smear of blood on her cheek. “Go ahead and have a seat,” she says to me. “I’ll get you in as soon as I can.”

“Oh… uh, no,” I stammer. “I’m fine.”

“Zeph’s with me,” Hinckley says. “What can we do to help?”

She peers at me. “Special abilities?”

I steel myself, but I can’t think of anything I’ve done to give myself away.

“No,” Hinckley answers. “Just an extra pair of hands.”

“All right.” She waves us off. “See if Kira needs anything in back. She’s checking everyone for damage. So far, it looks good. The effects seem to be slowly wearing off. Probably temporary, but definitely stronger than a normal thought grenade.”

My eyebrows lift. I guess thought grenades are a common thing.

Hinckley beckons me—he’s already heading toward the double-wide swing door to the back. The hallway beyond it has doors on either side. Hinckley peers in the window of the first one then keeps going. At the second, he taps lightly.

A moment later, the door swings in. A woman my age, maybe twenty at the outside, stands like an impassable column of fury in the doorway. She’s got serious muscles under her hospital scrubs, bright blue eyes, and a complexion that’s dark enough I’d call her Hispanic.

She runs a look over Hinckley, head to toe, finally settling a glare on his face. “You could’ve called,” she grinds out between her teeth. She doesn’t seem to notice me.

Hinckley takes it in stride. “I was a little busy.” He steps through the doorway and drops a kiss on her forehead. “I’m fine.”

“I’ll believe that when Kira tells me it’s true.” The woman’s scowl has darkened, but she seems less inclined to take Hinckley’s head off now.

“Just let him in, Anna,” calls a female voice behind her. I can barely glimpse her over Anna’s shoulder, but I instantly recognize her. Kira Moore. The girl who revealed jackers to the world. I don’t want to say I hate her—she was saving a bunch of changelings at the time—but she’s inextricably linked to a day that changed my life. And not for the better.

Anna backs away from the door, giving us room to enter the relatively small room. Kira turns away from her patient—a kid, maybe thirteen, who seems barely old enough to be a changeling.

“I told Anna you’d be the last one to show,” Kira says, her smile barely repressed.

“Thanks for the backup,” he says.

Kira’s gaze bounces to me. “Who’s your friend?”

“Zeph MacCay,” I jump in. I try to keep the tangle of emotions about meeting the Kira Moore off my face. “Hinckley said he might find me some work down here. Didn’t figure on getting here this way, though.”

She frowns and glances at Hinckley. “How bad is it?”

“Five dead,” Hinckley says.

Anna stiffens, but Kira’s shoulders just sag. “Wounded?” she asks.

“Twenty or so,” Hinckley says. “It took some wrangling by the Free Thinkers, but the paramedics took the physical casualties. You’ve got the rest.”

Anna’s back to being pissed. “Any idea who did this?”

“None.” Hinckley hesitates. “But you know who I think it is.”

I dash a look to him, but he doesn’t seem inclined to elaborate. Kira and Anna exchange frowns.

I’m about to ask, when the kid speaks up. “Is it the Fronters?” He’s like a puppy with those big brown eyes full of fear. It’s gutting me just to see it.

Kira turns back to him. “I don’t think so, Isaac. The Readers’ First Front disbanded once the inhibitors were released. Besides, readers are our friends now, right?”

Our friends? Does she really believe that? Because the Stomp didn’t blow up all by itself.

The kid isn’t buying it. “Readers don’t like us,” he says, quiet and hollow, like he knows way too much about that. But he’s spot on.

Everyone’s standing around exchanging grimaces as if this kid has said something embarrassing, not an obvious truth.

“Hey, Isaac,” I say, to fill the awkward silence if nothing else. “You have someone we can call to pick you up? You know, after doctor Kira is done checking you over?”

Kira gives me a frown but stays silent.

“No.” If the kid’s voice were any softer, I wouldn’t have heard him.

“What about your parents?” I ask although dread is inching up my spine. This isn’t good.

“They made me leave. You know, when I turned.” He’s staring at his hands.

I legit don’t know what to say now.

“Where have you been staying?” Hinckley asks, his voice gruff.

“With my friend, Jeff,” he says, peering up. “But his parents found out. The Fronters posted their house on that site. You know, the one where they put the addresses of jackers.”

My eyebrows hike up—I had no idea that was a thing. From the expressions on Anna, Hinckley, and Kira’s faces, it’s news to them, too.

“You sure that’s the Fronters?” Hinckley fishes his phone out of his pocket. “Can you show me?”

The kid stares at the phone, probably jacking into the mindware interface. The display shifts, and Hinckley curses softly. He looks to Kira. “I was sure they’d disbanded.”

“Guess they just moved online.” Anna shifts closer to where Isaac is perched on the battered medical examination table. “Where are you staying now?” she asks softly.

“Just around.” The kid shrugs and won’t meet her gaze.

I know what that means—he’s been scooped up by a Clan. Or he’s on the streets with the demens. And since most have turned, that means dodging Clans or freelance jack workers. That’s no place for a kid, jacker or reader.

“Well, I’ll tell you what,” Hinckley says, exchanging a glance with Anna. Their faces are too animated—I’m sure they’re having a linked-in, private conversation. “These Fronters are bad guys, and if they’re active again, and especially if they’re behind this attack on the Stomp, I want to get to the bottom of it. How about if you stick around Jackertown and stay with Anna and me for a bit? I could use your help in the investigation.”

The boy’s eyes light up, and I decide in that instant that whatever else goes down while I’m here in Jackertown, Hinckley is someone I could want for a friend. Which is strange because I’ve literally never been friends with a jacker before. I’ve known plenty I didn’t want to kill. And some I even trusted, to some extent, not to kill me. But someone decent and not just out to save their own skin? Other than changelings like this kid, who are too young to know any better?

Hinckley would be the first.

“All right, then.” Kira has a warm smile for the kid. “I’ve got other patients to check. Anna can finish scanning you, Isaac, then you and Hinckley are free to start your investigation.” She gives Hinckley a pointed look. “In the morning. It’s late, and my patients need their rest.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Hinckley folds his arms, and Anna closes her eyes like she’s going into a trance.

Kira gives me a nod and tilts her head to the door. “You’re with me, Zeph.”

“Um… okay.” I follow her out the door.

She walks one door down the hall then stops. We’re alone. “Do you know what we’re doing here?” she asks quietly.

I frown, figuring it’s kind of obvious. “Scanning for damage from the blast?” Then again, I don’t really know what Anna’s doing in that room, and my brain is too frazzled to sort it out. Maybe I need my head examined too. This whole night has me on tilt, and standing alone in a hallway with Kira Moore is adding a new level of surreal to it. “Honestly, I don’t know what you guys mean by that.”

She nods like she expects this. “Have you ever killed someone?”

“What?” I draw back a little. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea.

She laughs a little then runs a hand over her face, scrubbing it. Fatigue etches lines at the corners of her eyes. “Sorry. I’m apparently super blunt when I’m tired.” She sucks in a breath. “You know how you can jack into other people’s minds and slow down their hearts or do any of a hundred other things that mess with their physical systems?”

“Yeah.” Where is she going with this?

“Well, I do that, only on a much deeper level.” She folds her arms and leans against the door for a moment, resting her head on it. “Wipes me out, especially when I’m doing full brain scans and not just following individual neurons and trying to repair them.”

“Repair them?” My wariness dissolves. I’ve never heard of anything like this.

She gives a small smile. “Yeah. Painstaking work. And there’s a lot of it to be done, you know, with all the inhibitor damage. But we’re making steady progress.” She perks up a little and lifts away from the wall. “I’m always looking for new people to train. If you’d really like to help out…”

I frown. “I… um…” My mind is spinning. Wright thinks Navarro’s secretly spiking the water with inhibitors, but Kira’s wiping herself out with trying to fix the damage? That doesn’t make any sense. Unless Kira isn’t in on the secret. That’s possible.

“I was just throwing it out there,” she says, but she’s back to sounding tired. “Maybe you can ride along and check it out. See the work we’re doing here.”

“Maybe.” I’m scrambling. “I’m really better with my hands. I mean, I’ve done a bunch of landscaping work—”

“Trying to recruit again?” a male voice says behind me.

I jerk from surprise, but worse, the creepy sensation of liquid flows across the back of my mind. I recognize that feeling—an instinct jack—even as I spin and lash out with my mind. It’s Julian Navarro, strolling down the hallway toward us. His tentative smile falters as my reach plows through his mindfield. Only it’s like pushing on a cloud, all vapor and nothingness. Still, the liquid feeling of his instinct jack trying to seep into my head cuts off.

I scramble to pull back.

If he tries again, he won’t get far. After Tiller’s pet jacker used his instinct jack on me, back in the Detention Center, I redesigned my mindfield to lock against it.

Navarro’s frown is now practically a scowl. Those sharp blue eyes drill into mine. I hold perfectly still and tentatively reach to get a read on his mindmap—it’s a squishy, churning kind of thing, not like other jackers, but I could spin it if I had to. I’m not afraid he’ll jack my instincts. I’m afraid he’ll figure out I’ve locked my mind so he can’t.

“You can’t fault me for trying…” Kira is saying, but she fades off.

The tension between Navarro and me is electrifying the air.

“Interesting,” he says.

I’m almost certain my cover is blown. “What’s that?”

Navarro flicks a look over my shoulder to Kira. “He’s a keeper like you.”

When she says nothing, I ask, “Is that a crime?”

Navarro smirks. “No. But most people who try to jack me end up regretting it.”

I put my hands in the air, backing up a step. “Just a reflex, man. No offense intended.” I have an earnest hope there’s a back way out of the clinic.

Navarro smiles wider. “You really didn’t feel it at all, did you?”

I stop backing up. “What?”

He narrows his eyes, but in a friendly way, like I’m some intriguing puzzle he’s trying to figure out. Or perhaps a mouse to his instinct-jacking cat. Maybe he thinks he’ll toy with me. My shoulders hunch up, ready for it.

Navarro turns to Kira. “Our new friend has a very interesting ability.”

My heart turns into a panicked jackrabbit.

“Does he?” Kira asks, peering at me. “I didn’t get a chance to ask.” She gestures to me with an open hand. “Julian Navarro meet Zeph MacCay. He’s looking for work in Jackertown. Hinckley brought him in.”

Navarro nods. “So tell me, Zeph MacCay—what’s your special ability?”

“Don’t have one,” I say, probably too quickly.

Navarro smirks. “Well, I already know you’re a keeper.”

I shrug. Keepers aren’t common, but not that rare. I’ve locked more than a few.

His expression falls more serious. “The kind of keeper I can’t handle.”

I frown. Handle? That must be the instinct jacking. “Is that a problem?” If that’s how Navarro has stayed at the top in Jackertown for so long…

“No, not at all.” His half-smile returns. “But it does fascinate me. Even Kira can’t push back on it. And she isn’t immune to the terror instinct my mindbarrier elicits when someone tries to jack me.”

Oh crap.

“Well, you’re in trouble now,” Kira says. Inexplicably, she’s smiling while she says it. “If you fascinate Julian, he’s never going to let you leave Jackertown until he bores you to death with his endless questions.”

He scowls at her. “Don’t you have a patient to treat?”

“As a matter of fact, I do.” She raps quickly on the door. “But I call dibs on Zeph and whatever abilities he has for the clinic.” She gestures me forward as she swings open the door.

I hesitate too long, still teetering on the edge of having to spin mindfields and make a run for it. But maybe that’s not necessary. If Navarro’s really not threatened by my inaccessible mind…

“Come on,” Kira says, waving me into the room.

“All right,” Navarro says, stepping back. “I’ll check with Hinckley to get the status of things. But Zeph…” He stops me in the threshold. “We’ll talk more tomorrow.”

I hesitate then give a small nod. After all, I’m supposed to be spying on the man—getting close to him is entirely what I’m here for. I just didn’t plan on my abilities being part of the bargain. Nothing good has ever come of that, and I don’t want a jacker like Navarro—instinct jacker and senator of the state of Illinois—to know what I can really do. I’ll do what’s necessary to free my sister, then I’m out. And even Julian Navarro won’t be able to stop me.

I follow Kira in to her next patient.