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musicians good enough to play with him. They probably have even better music in the revel. ” Somewhere out of sight, the crow squawked again. Filo glanced nervously over his shoulder. “I’ve really got to go. I’ll see you.”
    Before Nasser had tim e to reply, Filo had dashed around the corner.
     
    * * *
     
    Neman wasn’t really angry—at least, she didn’t look it. Her arms were crossed, her black wings were folded stiffly across her back, and her mouth was turned down a little at the corners, but Filo knew she couldn’t have been too upset with him. If she were truly angry, or if she were Morgan , she would’ve hit him already.
    “You mustn’t dally ,” Neman said in that Irish lilt of hers . They were conferring in an alleyway behind a small Italian restaurant, just out of sight of the street—that way, no passing normals would catch a glimpse of Neman ’s black wings and talons and get curious . “There is work to be done.”
    “I know that,” Filo said. “I had to make a pit stop.”
    “A pit stop,” Neman echoed. “You are wasting time .”
    Filo frowned. Neman could be so irritating. With her visions, she’d probably known he was going to see A lice days ago, before he knew himself. “If you knew what I was going to do, why didn’t you stop me?”
    “Perhaps I thought better of you,” Neman chirped. “Things change.”
    “ Will you tell Morgan ?”
    “She already knows.”
    Filo groaned. Neman la ughed and pinched his arm with two clawed fingers , hard enough to bruise . He jerked away, which only made her laugh harder . That was another thing about Neman : She showed irritation and approval with the same gesture.
    “And, before you ask,” she said , “ I will not tell you where Jason has run off to.”
    Filo shook his head. “I have to go,” he said, trying to excuse himself from Neman ’s presence. “I’m late, remember?”
    “T he hob is rather busy at the moment. He won’t notice your lateness if you are quick ,” she advised.
    “I’m not a kid , Neman ,” he said sullenly. “D on’t say it like that.”
    “Like what?” Neman cocked her head to one side, and for a moment, he couldn’t tell if she was teasing him or not. In the end, he just stepped around her and started up the sidewalk.
    “I’d better hurry,” he sighed. “We don’t have all day.”
    “That’s better.” Neman ’s words were clipped off at the end, turning to a harsh caw . Filo glanced up in time to see a hooded crow soar over his head.
    Neman was right. He didn’t have time for any of this. Alice, Nasser, Jason … they weren’t part of his life anymore . They’d chosen their paths . He shouldn’t care about them, shouldn’t wonder and worry. He shouldn’t even think about them. But he did, more often than he would ever admit. And he hated himself for it.
    But now wasn’t the time to dwell on that. As Neman had reminded him, there was still work to be done.
     
    * * *
     
    The train didn’t go all the way to Bluewood, so Nasser had to catch a bus on the outskirts of the city to travel the last thirty or so miles into the small, sleepy town. As he disembarked, glad to be free of the cramped bus, he fumbled with the buttons on his coat and shoved his hands into his pockets. The wind cut easily through his clothing.
    After his mother’s death when he was twelve, Nasser and his younger brother Jason were taken to Bridgestone City. Nasser couldn’t sleep for weeks. He couldn’t close his eyes without seeing the great, terrible flames tha t had consumed his old life. Terror coiled in his gut every time one of his new masters entered the room. The exhaust fumes and ever-wailing police sirens became like a constant itch crawling across his brain ; he couldn’t relax with the unfamiliar, unrelenting noises.
    He’d since grown used to the city sounds, but after the first time he visited small, quiet Bluewood , so much like his hometown , Nasser had harbored a secret desire to live