“Don’t you have more men?” I ask Dante as we slip into the darkness outside.

“They’re around. Some aren’t in yet, others are probably already sleeping before they take the early patrol shift,” Dante says.

“Should we—I don’t know—wake them up?” I suggest.

Dante grabs my arm to stop me, and his eyes look black in the night as he peers down at me. “It’s for your own good that I’m not getting anyone involved yet. Once Kincaid knows about you, he’ll expect an audience with you—and probably a whole lot more than that. And I won’t bring anyone else in until you explain things to me.”

“I already did,” I whisper.

“No, I want the whole story. It’s not a coincidence that they’re here, and I want to know what happened with that aeroship.”

Before Dante can say anything else, Jost pushes him away from me. “Don’t touch her.”

Dante whirls on him, but then calms himself. Instead of forcing it, he heads toward the building’s edge. If Erik weren’t in danger, I’d run now because I’m suddenly afraid of Dante’s intentions. He knows I took down that ship last week. I said something over dinner that spooked him, but nothing that truly gave away me or my unusual abilities. He didn’t respond this way when he saw the techprint. He was curious then, but now he seems to be repressing fury and I know it has nothing to do with the Remnant attack. He’s angry with me.

I’m so preoccupied with this that we’re near the alley before I can process what we’re about to do. Emergency lights flood the area, bathing the alley in more light than we’ve seen on Earth, even during market hours. The unlit parts of the street creep along the corners of my vision, casting shadows into the small alley. Bodies seem to fade in and out of sight.

They’re here, and they see us coming.

“Get out your weapons,” Dante hisses.

The small knife in my hand feels light and useless. I wouldn’t even know how to use it. I may as well try to punch our attackers. I should have asked Dante more about the Remnants. In fact, there are a lot of things I wish I’d asked Dante now that we’re staring down a group of maniacs.

It’s their eyes that scare me. Pupils dilated and stretched past the irises, extending into an infinite nothing. They move with unnatural grace, leaping without fear of falling and bounding in long strides. The Remnants play with the shadows, popping in and out of sight, seeming to shift and change shape before my eyes. The darkness licks along their limbs, branching like poisoned veins across their arms and faces, but as one glides closer, the black streaks deepen in his skin. They’re scars, not tricks of the filtered light.

“Can you weave us out of here?” Jost asks in a whisper, balancing the butt of his rifle against his shoulder and peering along its long, thin barrel.

“I can likely freeze the moment, but there’s nowhere to go.” I see no point in hiding my weaving abilities from Dante if we need to use them. My eyes automatically draw out the strands around us. They’re tangled in a mutilated web. There’s no discernible pattern in the chaos. I can see Earth’s strands. I can touch them, but this world is too unpredictable for me to know for sure what would happen if I created a large warp in the strands.

“I imagine your friend would feel pretty raw if you left him behind,” Dante adds. It’s in the weight of his words, how carefully they’re chosen, how they flow slowly from his tongue—he knows what I am. I don’t know how, but Dante knows I’m a Spinster.

“One thing at a time,” I snap. “I thought we’d deal with the maniacs first.”

“Let’s see what you got,” Dante says.

“Find Erik,” I command Jost.

He nods, but I can tell I’m more inclined to help Erik than he is, so I remind him in a low voice, “He’s your brother.”

“He’s over there,” Dante interrupts us.

Erik is wrestling with one of the Remnants, trying to hold his attacker’s body back with one hand while the Remnant grips his other.

“Erik,” I cry out to him, and then instantly regret it because his head turns toward my voice. For a second, he loses his focus on the Remnant he’s fighting. But before the strange woman can attack him, Dante sends a shot tearing through her body. The Remnant woman trips back and goes limp. It buys Erik enough time to get to us.

“Glad you showed up.” He’s panting.

“Me too,” I say, hoping he doesn’t notice I’m shaking. “How did you know where we were?”

“I didn’t,” Erik says meaningfully. “They did.”

“What’s he doing?” Jost asks, and I turn to discover Dante has moved away from the group and farther down the alley. At first it looks like he has things under control, but then a Remnant backs him against a tall chain-link fence.

Without thinking, I lurch forward, sprinting toward the pair with my knife in hand. The Remnant pins Dante to the ground, hands gripping his neck. Something whistles past me, but I don’t stop until I’ve reached them. My hand lashes out with the knife and slices across the Remnant’s back. The blade vibrates as it tears along flesh, and it makes my hand tremble.

It’s not the kind of wound that will slow him down, but it does make him angry. Dropping his hands from Dante’s neck, the Remnant lunges forward onto his palms and hisses under his breath. Dante is free, but now the Rem is after me.