Isi surveyed the restaurant at the very edge of town. Nestled in the woods, it was close enough to Kalin Bay to still be part of the city, but far enough into the trees to feel private. The forest gave the old but well-kept building an almost rustic charm.

  Another day, Isi might have stopped just to try the food. It seemed like the sort of hidden gem people whispered about once they found it. But today she didn’t have the time. This was her last stop before Novem’s base.

  At least, Isi hoped that it was. Surveillance footage from the restaurant’s road-facing cameras would either confirm or deny her working theory: Jeron, Teorin, and Lev had all gone to Novem’s base a few hours north of Kalin Bay.

  Lev drew whispers the same way she did, especially with the sort of injuries in the footage. No one had posted anything, which meant Novem had him on a tight leash. She’d scoured the local clinics for gossip, but there was nothing.

  Salvador, a Ribeiro clan lackey in the footage, was next. But the favor she’d called in hadn’t yielded a location, just that Jeron’s car had been headed north.

  Then Marcus’ message arrived. No specifics. Just north.

  That put her on this road leading almost directly to Novem’s base two hours north. The base was secure, big enough to have a medical facility to treat injuries like Lev’s, and—if the flight manifests and chatter were to be believed—suddenly bustling. A perfect spot for someone as involved as Jeron.

  If Jeron had driven past this restaurant… well, then it was time to plan a break in.

  Isi eyed the cameras again. This plan depended on them working. It wasn’t clear why the restaurant owner bothered monitoring the outside. Maybe a rough crowd some nights or simple paranoia this far into the woods.

  If the cameras were just for show, a burst would have knocked them out long ago. The thin metal mesh might shield them from an average burst, but anything stronger would still fry them. The owner probably replaced them monthly. Hopefully, they cared about their footage. Otherwise, this break-in would be for nothing.

  Isi slipped from her hiding place in the trees. As the light hit her, she instinctively redirected it, bending the light and recreating it where necessary so that, for any outside viewer, she ceased to exist.

  The day was a little brisk, and the warmth of the sun heated her exposed arms. She’d left off her leather jacket. Simpler to deal only with the prisms in her shirt and pants for redirecting.

  Isi already had her lock picks in hand when she reached the door. In less than a minute, the tumblers shifted, and the deadbolt slid back into the door. Isi smiled. Her thirteen-year-old self would have been thrilled at the effortlessness of it.

  Ugh. What was with all this nostalgia? It didn’t matter what her younger self would think. It didn’t matter that she’d been trapped in that house for the last few days, reliving memories.

  Every piece of art was a knife-like reminder of a mother who would never brush her hair out of her face again. Of a father who’d scold her for breaking into the pantry, then show her how to do it with more finesse next time.

  Stop. Was she trying to get caught?

  She forced her focus back to the door, tugging it slightly open to listen. The hum of a machine filtered through the crack along with the sharp clang of metal against something, but the sound was distant and muffled, like someone was working in a kitchen around the corner. She eased the door open, revealing a hallway dimly lit by a dirty skylight.

  No one in sight. She slipped through the door, ensuring it shut silently before wrapping herself in shadows rather than the dappled sunlight. She let the light seep into her skin, absorbing it, keeping it, and letting only a few rays escape. The hallway was lined with doors, but only one of them had light seeping through the space near the floor. That was probably the kitchen.

  Isi opened the first door enough to peek through. Darkness filled the space, so Isi lit up her hand, illuminating various tablecloths and kitchen rags which lined the shelves in baskets on one wall. The shelves on the other wall had all types of dinnerware: plates, wine glasses, bowls. Not what she was looking for. Isi shut the door and started creeping towards the next.

  She needed some sort of office. The security system here should be simple, probably just connected up to some console. A banging echoed down the hallway, followed by a high-pitched whirring. At least, the kitchen should cover any sound. If the banging was any indication, it was a classical kitchen. Not one of the high-tech ones. The classical ones always had the best food. Or the worst, but she doubted this place would still be in business if that were the case.

  There was another door on her left. The kitchen sounds were coming from the right, so that seemed like a safe bet. Isi nudged the door open, but it led to some sort of dining room. The main dining room faced the front, so this had to be for private reservations. Isi slipped back into the hallway and crept past the door to the kitchen. She tried to turn the doorknob at the end of the hallway. Locked.

  Isi pulled out one of her picks. It easily slid in, and the lock spun. Incredibly simple. Probably just to keep customers out. Isi tried the handle again. This time the door swung open, and Isi heard a gasp from the other side. She had to hold back her curse. Idiot. She listened at all the doors except this one? She was losing her touch.

  She could always stay invisible and hide, but that would take too long. Right now, the situation looked like someone breaking in, but it didn’t have to.

  Isi let the shadow mimic drop, instead simply coloring her skin a few shades darker than normal and letting gray streak through her hair. She left her face. Many older women chose not to have wrinkles these days, but the gray—that was a Portilian tradition of pride.

  Isi took a deep breath. She pulled up a smile and stepped through the door. The sole occupant of the room was a shocked, middle-aged brunette woman, sitting at a desk.

  “Apologies, mo?a,” Isi said, letting her natural Portilian accent thicken until it was like some of her cousins from far up north. “I don’t mean to intrude, but your kitchen staff said that I could find you here.”

  The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  The woman looked flustered. “Yes. Sorry, it’s just I could have sworn that I locked that door.”

  Isi put her hand to her mouth in horror. “Oh, I hope I didn’t disturb anything important! Perhaps the lock needs replacing?”

  It was dramatic, but then again, Portilians were known for drama. If there was a time to take advantage of the stereotype, this was it.

  The woman frowned but seemed to accept the explanation. “I’ll have to have it looked at,” she murmured. Then she looked sharply back up. “But what did you need?”

  Isi dramatically lowered herself into a chair in front of the desk. She let her expression melt into one of the distraught looks she’d often seen on the face of one of her nannies growing up. “It’s my nephew, you see. He’s hit a rebellious streak. He’s a bit of a hothead, and he and his friends, well, they got this idea into their heads…”

  Isi blushed, remembering the time Cassandro had caught her as a teenager, awkwardly “practicing” seduction in the mirror.

  Then she rushed on, “And I’m afraid my nephew has run off with our car. I know this isn’t your problem, of course… but I think he drove past here, and well, I just want to know if he’s gone up to our cabin or if he went off somewhere else. You see, my husband doesn’t know, and it’s all just been so–”

  “I see,” the woman said, cutting her off, though Isi very much doubted that she did. “And what exactly did you need from me?” the woman asked.

  “I was wondering if you would be so generous as to allow me to look through your front camera footage from two nights ago. I just need to know if he drove past.”

  The woman looked slightly dumbfounded. “You want me to…look through our footage for your car?”

  “Yes!” Isi exclaimed. “Oh, would you?”

  The woman frowned, her fingers hesitating over the console. “You’re really going through all this trouble for a rebellious nephew?”

  “I know,” Isi sighed dramatically, pressing a hand to her heart. “What can I say? Family.”

  The woman pursed her lips like she was trying to decide what to make of the woman before her.

  “I would compensate you, of course,” Isi said, pulling out a small wad of bills.

  The woman straightened, seeming to reconsider the very wealthy patron who had just come through her door. “Well…I don’t see any reason I couldn’t. Which night did you say?”

  “Oh, what maravilha! Two nights ago,” Isi said, setting the bills down on the desk. “I wrote down the car details somewhere in here,” Isi said, pawing through the bag in her lap. It was, in fact, a backpack, but thanks to the embedded prisms, it now looked very much like the large, very expensive handbag that Isi often took to the fancy parties that she hated.

  The woman smiled and pulled a datapad out of her desk drawer. “Of course, just give me a second to pull up the footage.”

  “Perfect. It would have been very late or very early morning. A dark silver compact.” Isi smiled. The woman flashed through the footage. She pulled up a car and displayed it for Isi. It was a silver compact, but not the model Isi was looking for. Isi’s brow furrowed. “Any others?”

  The woman swiped through more footage before holding up the pad again. This time it displayed the car Isi had seen Jeron drive off in. She squinted at it. “Ah, that seems to be my nephew. Can you tell if his miscreant friends are with him?”

  The woman frowned and zoomed in on the image. “Looks like a young man in the back. I can’t see the driver.”

  “Blonde?” Isi asked.

  The woman shook her head and held up the pad again. No, not a blonde. It was hard to tell the exact shade of his hair in the dark, but it didn’t matter. Even with the shadows, it was impossible to mistake the young man glancing out the window as the car rushed by. Most of his facial features were almost as familiar to Isi as her own. Yes, Teorin certainly had come by here. And so, Lev must have too.

  Her target was only a few hours north.

  “Oh, I recognize him, that scoundrel,” Isi crooned. “I’ll have to call and have someone check the cabin.” Isi stood and smiled. “My thanks, querida, you’ve been most helpful.” The woman eyed the bills on the table. Isi pushed them towards her. “Well, I must run, but I’ll have to return and sample your cuisine. I’m sure it’s marvelous.”

  The woman nodded. “We’d be happy to serve you. Good luck with your nephew.”

  Isi nodded back and glided out of the room with one last smile, pulling the door shut behind her. She didn’t let the illusion drop until she was out of the back door, and then she pulled up an invisibility mimicry.

  That had been far too much fun. Isi felt giddy and slightly guilty, not for the deception, but for the giddiness. This was serious. There was so much riding on her, and she was trying not to giggle. She straightened up and jogged into the woods. These next steps would be far from fun.

  It was time to focus.

  And find a fast car.

  Teorin hated storage rooms. They were either poorly lit and full of dust or so sterile that dirt and sunlight seemed like only a hazy memory. Novem’s tech storage room was one of the latter, and he had been here far too long looking through the bulk shipment boxes from a recently shuttered outpost.

  The inventory log said that one of these boxes contained enhanced heat-sensing goggles, sometimes used in Torolt for hunting dangerous invisible wildlife. The problem was finding the right box. Someone had been in a hurry. The inside of the crate resembled what his room had looked like as a child when he “cleaned” it by shoving everything under the bed.

  He was beginning to wonder if the log’s professed goggles had simply never made it inside in the first place.

  Lev was out testing some of the stun rifles they’d gotten from the security team. As soon as Teorin mentioned going through storage boxes, Lev had pointed out, far too cheerily, that Jeron wouldn’t want him fooling around with Novem’s unidentified property. Lev was right. Teorin almost wished he could make the same excuse.

  He pulled out a rounded, paper-wrapped object and peeled back one of the layers, revealing a terrain scanner. Not useful. He set it aside and dug deeper into the crate. A beep sounded from the comm band around his wrist, and he pulled himself upright to see the words scrolling across the surface. Asset is headed north in a dark blue vehicle. Vehicle id: 73D6GG.

  Teorin smiled. It hadn’t taken long for his team to track down Isi. She was predictable, in some ways—determined, relentless, but predictable.

  Still, he couldn’t ignore the faint unease curling in the back of his mind. If she was willing to break into a secured location to track them, what would she do once she found them?

  Teorin shook himself. No. He was in control this time. He wouldn’t let it get to that. He should be asking the opposite question. What exactly was he going to do with Isi when he found her?

  Teorin had instructed his team to keep their distance but to keep tabs on her. They had. She was headed north now, which likely meant headed here. His team had confirmed earlier that Isi had been checking med clinics. She seemed to be searching for them, probably just to find the pages, but that would still lead her here.

  Teorin pushed away from the box, making his way to the console at the edge of the room. He slipped his security badge into the slot. It was time to put the base on partial lockdown.

  Teorin switched the security protocol to gate access only via vehicles, with mandatory heat-signature scanning for any vehicle entering the compound. Then he activated the pressure sensors at the gate and set them to comm band and console notification only, instead of the normal blaring alarm.

  He and Lev had agreed that a simple plan was best. Too much guesswork, and they would shoot themselves in the foot. But Isi had no reason to suspect that they were expecting her. That was their greatest advantage.

  Perimeter security was tight. Even the coast had sonar detection at intervals regular enough to make sneaking in difficult, but the front gate was another story. Shipments had to regularly pass through there. That would likely be Isi’s target, though Teorin was monitoring the fence for malfunctions and had eyes on the coast, just in case.

  So, Teorin had devised the altered gate protocols. It would still appear like they had robust security, but also provide Isi with a solid chance at getting through. Now, it was just a matter of waiting and ensuring that when Isi did show up, they would be ready for her.

  Teorin glanced back at the boxes. He had an hour to find heat-sensing goggles sensitive enough to deal with any heat-blocking material Isi had. He sighed. There were still two boxes left. It was time to get back to work.

  [Lev] Rent for this week. Looks like one with plenty of mysteries.