I should take slim. It might be the only chance I’d get.

But what if it wasn’t? Didn’t I owe it to Elena and Hope to take the best chance to warn them? Wait and attack Severin when he came around to get me? But what if we stopped in the middle of nowhere, with Sierra, Giles, and the whole gang waiting to grab me after Severin failed?

I couldn’t make up my mind.

Damn it, I could always make up my mind. This new indecision could be a sign of maturity, but it felt like weakness.

Wait and see—No, open the doors.

Oh hell, maybe I should just give up all hope of making rational decisions and start flipping coins.

I might, if I had a coin to flip.

Okay, that was it. I was just going to—

The van slowed.

Shit. Oh, shit!

I peeked out the door to see that we were pulling into a highway gas station. I looked at the trees and fields surrounding the service center.

Hey, why make decisions when the hand of God can just deliver a better choice?

There was only one vehicle behind us—a car with Mom and a passel of kids. The car turned off toward the restaurant and the way was clear. I was about to throw open the door when the van swerved to drive beside a parked tractor trailer, affording me the perfect cover. I waited until we drew alongside the truck. Then I jumped. Kind of hopped, actually, arms and legs pulled in, letting myself drop, then roll under the trailer.

A beautifully executed move, if I do say so myself. Of course, it would have been even better with a blur spell to hide me and a knockback to tap the van door shut. Fate favored me there, though. No one in the van noticed my escape. And the door swung closed with a click.

Two minutes later, I was inside the service center, hiding in a fast-food line as I peered out the window and watched Severin. He filled the tanks. He paid. He got back in. He drove off, without ever realizing I’d escaped.

Now I had to get out of here. For that I needed cash.

Being dinner hour, the travel center was packed full of tired, hungry travelers. The thing about being tired and hungry? You’re focused on getting through the lines, getting a burger, and getting back on the road. You put one of your kids or your coat at an empty table to reserve it.

I snagged a jacket from a table, and yanked it on to cover my bloodied wrists. Then I stole a purse someone left on a chair while she went to grab napkins.

I’d feel bad about the purse. Later. For now, it contained cash and it had a cell phone. I took both and left the purse in a bathroom stall. Then I called a cab.

My plan was to call Paige on the cell. But as I got into the cab, I realized the obvious: Freedom had come altogether too easily.

They’d let me escape.

Or had they?

I wasn’t sure, but if they had let me escape, the reason would be obvious. They wanted me to lead them to the others.

I couldn’t call Paige or Lucas. Probably shouldn’t call anyone who might be even peripherally on their captive list. Or their hit list. But I did need to warn Elena and Hope.

I dialed a number.

“Prevail Aluminum Siding,” a voice chirped. “How may I direct your call?”

“Is Mr. Prevail in today?” I asked. “He’s doing a quote for my condo, and I gave him the wrong measurements.”

“May I ask who’s calling?”

“Tell him it’s the nasty girl.”

“I’ll put you right through.”

Code words are cool. I keep telling Paige we really need to use them at the agency. She fails to see the value. Or the sheer awesomeness factor.

I was calling Rhys Vaughan—Hope’s boss. One of them, that is. She has her job at the tabloid, and she occasionally helps out with the council, but in the last couple of years, she’s shifted her extracurricular focus from the council to Rhys’s organization. As a chaos demon, she needs more of the dark stuff than the council can provide.

Rhys is a mercenary. He doesn’t like the word. I don’t see why. For me, it’s right up there with secret codes. I think his problem is that the term conjures up images of hardened killers who will do anything for a price. Rhys’s supernaturals are guns—and spies—for hire, but only for the right cause. You can hire him to assassinate a Cabal goon on your tail; you can’t hire him to assassinate your boss to free up the position.

Rhys was a clairvoyant. Just like that baby the group had its sights on . . . a baby who just happened to be his grandchild. His disabled teenage son impregnated another clairvoyant, who died before giving birth. He got custody of his son. The Nasts got the dead woman.

For years, rumors had been floating around that the Nasts had kept the woman—Adele Morrissey—on life support until she had her child. I’d asked Sean about it once. He’d given me an answer that I’d taken to mean the rumor wasn’t true, but thinking back, he hadn’t actually said that. As honest as we tried to be with each other, there were Cabal secrets I couldn’t expect him to share.

It took a while for me to be connected to Rhys. Long enough for the cab ride to end. I was walking along a downtown street, looking for anyone following, when Rhys finally came on the line.

“Hello?” His tone was cautious.

“Hey, it’s me.”

A pause.

“Do you mind if I ask you a question, Savannah?”

“Actually, I’m kind of pressed for time here—”

“What was the name of the first pet you had as a child?”

“Um, never had a pet. What’s with the security quest—?” I stopped. “Hope called when I went missing, so you could put out feelers. And now someone’s calling from a strange number claiming to be me. It is me, Rhys. I escaped, and I have a feeling I got away too easily, which is why I’m using this stolen cell phone to call you instead of Paige and Lucas. My mother’s maiden name is Levine. My first school was Hill’s Park. My—”

“Okay, okay. And for the record, those are lousy security questions because they’re based on publicly accessible information. Now, look around, as if you’re trying to find a street name, and make a note of every person you see.”

“Already did that. The most likely suspect is a guy in his twenties reading lamppost flyers advertising band gigs from last summer.”

“Okay, stop looking at him. Are there restaurants or coffee shops nearby?”

“Yep. I’m in downtown Kingston. Small city in Indiana, though I’ve never heard of it.”