"Shouldn't you be… doing something?" asked Andrea.

  They were all curled up on the couch at Rachel's house in Vancouver. Rachel sat next to her mother, while her father sat in the easy chair nearby. Solveig was over at the table, breaking and fixing a glass over and over again with magic. It made a crinkly, unpleasant noise as the glass broke and reformed, over and over again.

  Rachel's father glanced at her. "Would you stop that, please?"

  Solveig shrugged. "Gotta practice."

  "Solveig, please?" asked Rachel.

  The girl sighed, but stopped messing with the glass, to Rachel's relief. She'd had enough stress after the failed Summit. Solveig flipped her dreadlocks out of her face and leaned back, switching to fire magic instead. The circling balls of fire and gentle wave of heat across the room still raised Eric's eyebrows, but Rachel could live with that—at least it wasn't making an awful shattering sound every ten seconds.

  Besides, it was freezing. The fire felt nice. She was curled up sharing a blanket with her mother, while Will watched from the bed they'd wheeled out into the living room nearby.

  They were all gathered around the TV, which was still showing images of the aftermath from the massacre in the pilgrim camp. Rachel had two different laptops open next to her on the coffee table. She periodically checked the headlines, as well as her private messages and drop sites for other contacts she had. She was hoping for a response from Courtney or Maddie soon, or anyone who could give her more insight on what was happening back home in Rallsburg.

  Back home… I never really thought of it as home, did I? I lived there… I even spent the summer there, but it wasn't home.

  "Rachel?" Andrea prompted.

  Rachel shook her head. "They've got it under control. Courtney responded fast enough with the National Guard, and they've got the eyes of the whole world on them now. I don't expect Brian to do anything so foolish as attack again."

  "Oh…" Andrea trailed off. She glanced at Eric, and they shared the latest of hundreds of confused looks with each other.

  Her parents didn't understand her anymore. Rachel had learned to live with it, but it still stung. She loved them dearly, but with Will as he was, she didn't have anyone else to converse with regularly at home. Solveig was the closest, but she was… well, I guess Mom's pretty used to a presence like that, what with Rika, but Solveig's definitely something else.

  "You said you saw Rika this morning right?" asked Andrea.

  Rachel nodded. "She's doing okay. Better… better than she was, anyway." Except for the part where she's basically against everyone now, and isn't exactly happy with me either, since I had to persuade her to go back to prison… "She stayed in D.C. though. She's still in prison for now."

  "I always said—" started her father, but cut himself off.

  Rachel frowned. "You can say it, Dad. You never liked Rika."

  "That's not what I meant—"

  "Honestly, Eric," sighed Andrea. "You'd already moved out by the time she was living with us."

  The two of them were at it again. Rachel was torn between wanting to break them up, and weirdly grateful that they were arguing about something normal. No insane genocidal mass-murderers, no high politics, no helicopter chases or gunfights or explosions or people dying. Just another debate between her parents about whether or not letting Rachel's best friend from middle school live with her was all right.

  An alert popped up on Rachel's laptop—silent, so it didn't interrupt them, but Rachel felt the gravitas of the moment nonetheless. From only the first few words, she knew… everything was about to change.

  "Solveig," said Rachel, and her tone silenced everyone in the room in an instant.

  "Yeah boss?" asked Solveig uneasily.

  "Call the twins." If ever there was a time where I'm vulnerable… Beverly's out of the picture, and I'm at home with my family, not anywhere I can be useful. Without her, I can't get another portal, either.

  "They got class…"

  "Call them right now."

  Rachel was already pulling out her own phone. Solveig dialed as she walked out, calling Landon and Logan. Her parents looked afraid, but Rachel needed to get moving—beyond her own safety, there was a greater concern. If Beverly's missed one, and it's her own sister…

  What was I thinking? We thought of everything, accounted for everything… We could have handled Brian, could have handled a dozen Brians eventually… but we never expected Beverly to stop awakening people. There was always one point of failure, but I completely overlooked it.

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  She pressed call.

  "...Twice in one day, Rachel," echoed Cinza's ethereal voice from the speaker. "To what do I owe the honor?"

  "Where are you right now?"

  "In the forest. I don't suppose you've decided to take our side?"

  "Forget about that," said Rachel. "Something is happening."

  "I cannot believe anything is more important than this right now."

  "I wish that were true," she murmured, while her mother and father watched her on the phone with worry filling their own expressions as a surrogate for Cinza's, thousands of miles away. "Grey-eyes failed to awaken someone."

  "...That is not possible."

  "It was Alden's little sister Meg. I have no doubt more will follow," she added, as an image of Beverly, totally overwhelmed and fleeing from everyone, filled her mind. Beverly wasn't the sort of person who could bounce back from such a trauma, especially after everything she'd just been through. I forced her to perform so much difficult magic this morning… I'm partially responsible. "We need to warn the world."

  "Warn them of what?"

  "No one can awaken. If they try, they will fail."

  "...I can't send such a message."

  Rachel took a breath, trying to force anger out of her voice at Cinza's obstinance. "Cinza, people are going to die."

  She didn't respond right away. Rachel's mom gasped, her hands flying to cover her mouth. Her father looked about to say something. Will was struggling to look at her, still trapped in his bed—after his own exertions the night before helping to launch the ritual, he was worse off than before. Rachel wished he hadn't… but the opportunity was too good to pass up.

  "If I tell people even once that magic is not safe, I lose power."

  An idea burst into Rachel's mind. She couldn't accomplish it herself, but… she'd built up plenty of contacts who might. It needed to be widespread though… as strong a message as she could possibly send. Only one person could get a message out so fast and so widespread—and they didn't need any magic to do it. It was the perfect way.

  "A presidential alert."

  "...That may work."

  "You have a way to contact him, right?"

  "I do, but… I can't right now. I'm not in a position to make that sort of call."

  Rachel shook her head. "We don't have time for this."

  "Call him, Rachel." Cinza rattled off a phone number without preamble, knowing Rachel's perfect memory would catch every digit. "That will get as close as any phone number can. Get the word out. Save them."

  "...Thank you."

  Cinza disconnected. Rachel took another deep breath, taking Will's outstretched hand for strength. She had an important call to make, and though she felt like she'd been building up to a moment like this her whole life—and even had several test runs reaching out to Maddie and Courtney—this was different.

  "Rachel?" asked Andrea, holding Eric's hand tight just as Rachel held Will's. "What's going on?"

  "I'm trying to save everyone, Mom," said Rachel, feeling more exhausted than she ever had. She'd gotten her two hours of sleep the night before, but even so… the whole world seemed to be on her shoulders again. It was a feeling she'd tried to escape, fleeing up here to Vancouver with her family, but Agent Ashe had sought her out… and Rachel was back in the thick of it once again.

  She dialed the number Cinza had given her.

  "Hello?"

  It wasn't him, but someone else. She placed the voice from a podcast he'd once been interviewed on—the president's body man, Geoffrey Downs.

  "Mr. Downs, I need to speak with President Stafford immediately. It's an emergency."

  At the name, Rachel's mother gasped again. "The president?" she whispered.

  "Badass," said Solveig, who'd come back into the room at some point during Rachel's last phone call.

  "...Who is this?" asked Geoffrey.

  "My name is Rachel DuValle," said Rachel, ignoring the living room around her. The fire crackled by the television, waves of heat washing over her, but it felt like a gentle breeze compared to the sheer pressure of the conversation she was about to have. "I'm a personal friend of Cinza's."

  "The Rachel DuValle?" he asked dubiously.

  Oh… right. Thanks to Cinza's journals… I'm famous too. She wrote an awful lot about me… "Yes."

  "...One moment."

  Rachel waited, tapping her fingers impatiently on the back of her phone. She could hear Geoffrey making his way through the White House to find the President, wherever he might be. Images of people choking to death kept flickering in Rachel's mind. Faster… please, she willed Geoffrey, though she knew any shrill panic would likely end the call before she got what she needed.

  "This is the President. To whom am I speaking?"

  Rachel cleared her throat. "Mr. President, my name is Rachel DuValle."

  "...I've heard a lot about you."

  "I'm sure, but we don't have time right now, sir. I need you to issue an emergency presidential alert."

  "...FEMA issues—"

  "I'm aware FEMA issues those alerts, but they do still take direction from you, sir," said Rachel impatiently, "and your word vastly exceeds my own."

  "In certain circles." The President hesitated. "What's happening that I need to issue an alert?"

  "If anyone attempts to awaken right now, they will die. You need to tell the world right away, if they have access to any Scraps, not to read them. Not to even glance at them."

  "...Forgive me, but isn't that what Grey-eyes—"

  "She's incapacitated."

  Stafford took a breath. "...Oh, God," he said finally, as the gravity of what Rachel was telling him sunk in. "How long ago?"

  "I don't know, sir. Please get the word out, Mr. President. There's no time to waste."

  "I will. Thank you, Miss DuValle."

  Rachel hung up. She glanced at her parents, still clutching hands, terrified. Rachel slowly shook her head. "You two don't need to be afraid," she murmured.

  "We don't?"

  "You're both awakened," said Rachel with a sigh. "We all are. She already saved us."

  Her phone started to play a shrill alert noise, right at the same time Will's phone did, as did Eric's. Solveig glanced at her own—which started to go off about thirty seconds later.

  "Emergency alert issued by the United States…" she read aloud, "...under no circumstances… do not awaken." Solveig glanced back up at Rachel. "Shit," she murmured.

  Rachel glanced down at her own phone, which carried a similar message. A moment later, their TV—which had been on the news, but muted—flickered over to an emergency alert.

  The word was going out. All Rachel could do now was hope they'd been fast enough… before anyone else died.