The next morning, Friday, I needed to move. I was so used to spending every waking moment at school or doing homework, but now that I wasn’t, I was getting real antsy. It’s not like I wanted to be hunting a dead sister and her magic Talisman instead of focusing on getting into college and, you know, landing a decent-paying job. Add in gun-toting robots and Otokotronics potentially arriving in two days, and I was pretty much climbing the walls.

So I convinced Mom to let me out to stretch my legs, but only by playing the I could still just run away card. She made me promise to stay close and take my phone. As if leaving it behind was actually an option.

After getting out into the not-so-fresh air, I soon found myself at a row of apartments with deep balconies, their blinds shuttered against the rising sun. A guy with a gray mustache and gardening gloves stooped over a leaf pile near the sidewalk, his rake propped on a toddler’s ride-on toy.

I was hustling past with my hands in my hoodie’s pockets, crinkling my nose at the wildfire smoke—when a rumbling engine pulled up behind me.

The hair on my neck stood at attention. I pivoted, scanning the street. There it was—a silver sedan at the curb, maybe forty feet back, looking a whole lot like the Chevy that’d been idling outside Mom’s pub on Wednesday. And, huh, also like the one outside the police station at Washington Park.

My pulse stepped up, blood crashing in my ears. I was being tailed, and this wasn’t the first time. Was it Otokotronics, come to finish what Bearded Athleisure Dude started? I never should’ve gone outside. Maybe I could cut through an alley, put some distance between us.

In the driver’s seat, a woman with deep brown skin was staring through the windshield. Blouse, dark hair pulled back, a phone to one ear. Her sedan lingered like an animal on its haunches, waiting to pounce.

She sure didn’t give off an Otokotronics vibe. Not only because, as far as I’d seen, they were all dudes except for that creepy Dia woman in denim. But also, the car, the clothes. This woman smelled like police. Like Laramee keeping an eye on me for Mom. Or worse—LYPD coming to interfere with her ex-union buddies.

But I couldn’t outrun this. I inched back toward Mustache Guy, hoping Cop Lady wouldn’t try anything with a witness around.

The woman spoke into her phone with a grim expression, glancing in my direction. She wore a Fitbit, slacks, and a tight frown. Pretty, I guess, in a Serious Business way. If she was younger than Mom, it wasn’t by much.

We were at kind of an impasse here though. I wasn’t leaving the hopeful safety of Mustache Man, and Cop Lady was still pretending to talk on the phone. There had to be another way to get her off my back.

A devious thought popped into my head. What if I gave Otokotronics a little nudge in this cop’s direction, kept everyone busy long enough for me and Mom to retrace Ko Prime’s footsteps without getting hassled?

I turned my back to the sedan and popped open my Casio for the battery. Tugging Matt’s Zippo from my pocket, I freed Garrett’s tracking device, the chip he’d pulled from his original bot. Then I bent the wires around either side of the battery, a pinprick of electricity zapping my finger. Shit. It better not have shorted out; my kingdom for a multimeter. Finally I fished a gum wrapper from my cutoffs and twisted it around the tracker. It’d have to do.

The sound of the car pulling forward and a window rolling down behind me made me jump.

“It’s Ko, right?” the woman called out.

Stuffing the tracker into my hoodie’s pocket, I spun back to the car. She didn’t seem like a threat, although it could all be an act. “Why are you following me? Are you working with Laramee?”

She leaned toward the open passenger window, her seat belt taut. Curvy figure, fake lashes, a dazzling smile that reached her eyes. “I think we can help each other out.”

“Why would I wanna help a cop?”

Her smile faltered, crow’s feet wrinkling around her eyes. “I’m so sorry about earlier. I was on the phone with my boss—getting authorization to talk with you.” The door locks clicked open. “Why don’t you step into my office.”

Likely story. But if I was going to plant this tracker, being in the car would be easiest. “How do I know you’re not gonna kidnap me, sell me for parts?”

Mustache Man crept to the edge of the lawn with his rake, sidestepping his zinnias to join me. “Miss, is this woman bothering you?” His fingernails were yellowed and he smelled of hard work.

Cop Lady reached into a pocket to pull out a very legitimate-looking Federal Bureau of Investigation ID—Special Agent Sheila Summers—and dangled it out the window. The weight of her gaze stayed on me. “Sir, I’ve got this under control.”

I swallowed, my throat prickly. Sheeeit. She wasn’t one of Laramee’s LYPD goons after all. Honestly, I’d have expected the feds to step in way sooner, what with all the armed robots.

Mustache Guy’s throat bobbed and he retreated to his leaves.

Agent Summers withdrew her ID, her smile back. “Just hear me out. Two minutes.”

I still could run. But if she was really FBI, I especially needed to get her off my back; we couldn’t very well find the Talisman using our illegal robots while the FBI was harassing us. And if this lady actually had something that helped us find the Talisman, well … This might be a risk worth taking.

Against my better judgment, I opened the door and perched one butt cheek on the seat, leaving the door propped open with a foot on the curb.

A chunk of the center console was missing—just an angular hole with dangling wires. Odd. The car stunk of cigarettes and cinnamon air freshener, a rental agreement peeking from a cup holder. So she wasn’t a local. “I don’t appreciate being followed,” I said.

She waved a hand dismissively, a faint ring tan visible. “I get that all the time. And yet, here we are. So I’ll get right to it. The Bureau can provide protection for you and your mother. Protection she can’t provide.”

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I folded my arms. So she knew about Mom’s involvement. Wonderful. “Why me? You should be discussing this with my mom. Can you even talk to a minor like this?” A small part of me was kind of flattered she’d seek me out. I pushed it away.

“Believe me, I’d love to talk to your mother. I’ve been following her work for ages.” She smiled conspiratorially. “Just between us, I may have developed a little professional crush.”

I blushed on Mom’s behalf. Outside, Mister Mustache busied himself with a trash bag, pretending not to watch us.

Agent Summers let out a belly laugh, quite unlike my stereotype of a government operative. “The problem is we’ve only had marginal success working with the ex-union members over the years. But now you’re involved. I’m hoping you can create a favorable outcome for all parties.”

“Meaning what?” This tracker was burning a hole in my pocket. It was powered up.

“Meaning,” she said, giving me a little eye roll, “we stop the threats against you and your family. In exchange for, you know, the Talisman.”

Jeez. The feds were after it too? Or was Summers on Otokotronics’ payroll? “Why do you care?”

“We have a national security interest in keeping it out of Otokotronics’ hands.”

“No, why do you care?”

She gave me an assessing look. “Do you know what it’s like to be part of something bigger than yourself?”

My mind went to Mom’s book club full of laughing, wine-soaked union buddies. “Not really.”

“Neither do I. My boss—bless his coal-black, misogynistic heart—gave me this assignment because he thinks it’s impossible. But if I bring back the Talisman anyway, I’ll get promoted out of his department. I won’t have to play by his rules anymore.”

I could see what she was doing—sharing personal details so I’d trust her. It wasn’t working, even if her story did have a ring of truth to it. “Why should I believe you?”

She put on a wounded look. “I was only answering your question. Believe what you want. But if we partner up, we can offer you protection from Otokotronics—and any other threats. I’ll just need you to keep an eye out for the Talisman.”

“You’re the fricking FBI. Find it yourself.”

“My department is under-resourced for this kind of search.” Agent Summers smoothed her blouse, picking lint from her slacks. “There are some in the Bureau who don’t appreciate the severity of Otokotronics’ threat … are incentivized not to appreciate it. That’s why I need your help.”

“So let me get this straight. You’re making vague promises about protection, trying to scare me into helping you. And in exchange, I’ll bring you the Talisman, the one thing wanted by everyone in this world and the one next door.”

“Ms. Scanlan—”

“Ms. Scanlan is my mother.”

“And don’t you care about protecting her?”

I blinked in surprise. “You’re suggesting I don’t care about my own mom? They teach you that in FBI school?” Empty promises of protection didn’t do anything for me. And being under this agent’s thumb wouldn’t help with Ko Prime or the Talisman. But if I planted Garrett’s tracker in here—and Otokotronics was still monitoring it—they might do more than keep Agent Summers occupied. They might hurt her. And as desperate as I was, I wasn’t going to send someone to their death. This was a mistake.

Agent Summers’ face puckered. “I hoped it wouldn’t come to this. I want you to know I’m really, truly sorry. This wasn’t my idea.”

“What’re you talking about?”

“If you won’t cooperate, there are other options on the table.”

“Like what?” I flung out the question, a dare.

She frowned deeply, flattening a hand to the armrest between us. “There’s an extradition treaty with the other world.”

I drew back, my pulse picking up. “So … what? You’re threatening to send me back?”

She gave me a pitying look. “Oh, honey, not you. Your mother. She’s a fugitive. I’m sorry, but we won’t let Otokotronics have the Talisman if we can prevent it. And I know your first instinct is to tell her all of this. It’s exactly what I’d do in your position. But I must warn you—if she becomes a flight risk, we’ll be forced to proceed with extradition.”

I pressed my back to the door jamb, my heart racing. “You can’t fucking do that!” I shouted. “And … and besides, only robots can transit now.”

“The portal cycle peaks on Sunday. Humans can transit—they just don’t always come through in one piece.” She winced at her own words.

“You’re bluffing! Why would anyone want my mom back after so many years?”

Summers nodded solemnly, hard eyes sweeping the street. “I’m afraid Otokotronics views her ex-union group as an impediment to their plans here. The corporation holds sway with the State Department and will make an example of your mother to discourage the others, anyone they can’t kill or capture. That’s why I need your help—so we don’t have to send her back through our last portal.”

I felt a scowl hardening on my face, my eyes welling. “You can’t just take her away!” Even if we didn’t always see eye to eye, Mom was the only family I had. The only one besides Matt who always had my back. “Why does the FBI even care about some company from another world?”

She pulled her gaze back to me, regarding me with a critical eye. “So … about that. I am from the Federal Bureau of Investigation—just not yours.”

“Oh,” I said, my cheeks ablaze. “Oh.” Of course. They knew so much about the other world because they were natives. “How’d you even get to this world if it’s so unsafe to transit?”

She looked introspective for a beat. “I was born here. They recruited me out of Cornell—this one. Part of their efforts to reach a younger generation, non-traditional candidates. But I knew I was going to be in the FBI ever since I watched the X-Files with my mama as a kid. Yes, I was the little girl with Afro puffs who thought she was Scully.”

Who? But there she went again trying to humanize herself. “Uh huh.”

“Look, I know this is a tough situation to put you in. I’m not going to tell you we’re the good guys. But we are the guys who keep the bad guys in check.” She reached for the glove box. “Let me get you my card. You can think this—”

“No, you know what? This is some grade A bullshit.” I flung the door open wide and tramped across the street, my hands shaking. Oh my God. She couldn’t just threaten Mom with exile. I’d be so lost without her. I didn't want to think about being left all alone in this world. But could I really hand over the Talisman to this FBI, assuming I somehow got my hands on it? Who knew what they would do with it—probably nothing good.

Running on autopilot, I stalked back home, my head swirling with worst-case scenarios. But when I reached the familiar bushes and balconies of my apartment complex, I stopped cold. Shit! What about the tracking device I’d just brought online? I shoved my hands into my hoodie in a panic—only to discover the tracker straight-up missing. It must’ve fallen out when I was in Agent Summers’ car.

If Otokotronics was still monitoring Garrett’s old tracker, well, it maybe just came back online. Warning Agent Summers would be the right thing to do, but it’s not like I’d gotten any contact info. She’d find the tracker sitting on the seat, right? She was FBI—other world FBI—she’d know what it was and what to do with it.

I had to tell myself it’d be okay. Except with Summers’ threat of extradition, I really couldn’t wait around for Mom and her buddies to find this Talisman. Mom was right. We needed to stick together, only maybe not in the way she intended. Because now it was on me to follow up on this Mission Pizza lead myself—before the Talisman slipped away and I lost the only family I had.