I must have stared at those words for several quiet, slow moments. But the longer I looked at them, the more they seemed to blur against the wall, until at length, I just took the car key and returned to the stoop. I didn't know what to make of what had just happened. Could the voice possibly be my subconscious if it was leaving me gifts? Writing on walls? Even thinking that sounded ridiculous. The whole thing was beginning to scare me. Henry and Roxie were still sitting there as if nothing were going on, he where I'd left him, she somehow in a daze, probably sleepy. I stared down at Henry. You're welcome. I fingered the key in my pocket. Why did he look so fragile in this dimness?--like a prism that shone only white light. He certainly couldn't have been the one to leave the message or the key. He didn't look capable of doing anything secretive at present.

But I had no more time to contemplate the voice or what had occurred; the time had come to meet Halo. Movement from the left caught my attention, and I spun to look at the street corner where we were to meet her. She was there, now, her shock of pink hair obvious beneath the glow of the streetlamp, and next to her was a tall, thin black boy whom, upon narrowing my eyes, I didn't think I recognized. Good. She'd brought someone else--that gave me more ground to have brought Roxie. Wait . . . had the message been from Halo? But what would she have given me a key for? Did the person she'd brought have something to do with it? Maybe this was a trick. Maybe I shouldn't go . . .

No. Didn't matter what it was. I felt like I must go. I couldn't pass this opportunity to get reacquainted with the Circuit. I might never find them if I didn't take this chance.

"Stay here," I instructed Roxie and Henry.

He got to his feet so fast it startled me, but I slipped off the stoop and jogged away, ignoring his call. I had to play for time . . . I didn't know what to do. But I knew I didn't want him in the danger zone. Not yet. Not until I could figure out what was going on.

Halo turned to me as I approached, elbowed the guy next to her, and he also turned. He was very youthful and rather pretty, with fine features and close-cut curls, but, as I'd thought, he was unfamiliar."Where's Henry?" was the first thing she said to me when I drew near enough to hear.

"Who's that?" I countered.

She sucked her teeth, crossed her arms as I arrived. "Fair enough," she said, which I took to mean that she didn't want to explain so I didn't have to either.

"You sure you want in?"

I eyed the guy behind her, whose face betrayed no emotion whatsoever.

Halo noticed my hesitation and misread its reason. "Ignore him. He's just here for security."

"Really? Doesn't look like he could secure much of anything."

He shifted and revealed the hilt of some sort of weapon in his jacket. Whatever. I had my own, too.

"And that's just what you can see," Halo inserted.

I began to roll my eyes but didn't want to get on her bad side so stopped myself. Besides, for all I knew, she did have a lot up her sleeve. "Listen, Halo. I'm still interested. I'm tired of the streets, trying to deal with people like Peale and whoever else. Tired of not having a proper bed and toilet. If you've got somewhere that's better, I don't care what I have to do, I'm there. I just need a little convincing this isn't some sort of scam. Like, you're not going to murder me and harvest my organs or something."

She laughed aloud. The guy behind her didn't move at all. "We do this two ways," she said, calming. "With your eyes open, or your eyes closed. You've already said you want in, which means eyes open. You come with us. You trust our guarantee, because that's one thing I don't do--lie."

"Which could be a lie," I said.

"But isn't."

"What assurance do I have of that?"

"None." She shifted her weight. "Listen, Nadia. I don't like the way you're talking. You're the one that begged me for this meeting, remember? So what is it, in or out? And I should warn you--at this point, out comes with consequences."

I lowered my brow, retreated a half step. "Is that so? What kind of consequences?"

She indicated the guy behind her with a nod of her head.

"You serious?" I scoffed, pulling out my gun and backing up several feet this time. "I don't like threats."

Halo put up her hands the same moment the guy behind her whipped out a gun of his own as well as, with his other hand, a knife. "I won't hurt you, Nadia, but I can't promise Andres won't."

Something in the distance, a ways down the street, suddenly caught my eye. Instinctively, I pressed a button on the key in my pocket, and headlights blinked. A brief shock might've flitted across my face, but I hoped they'd consider it a reaction to the situation. "I don't want to fight you. Someone like Peale--my pleasure. You? You don't seem bad . . . but I don't like threats. Give me a day to think about it a little more."

"An hour."

I shook my head in disbelief, then lowered my gun. "Fine. An hour. I'll meet you back here in an hour."

"Like hell." She checked a watch. "I have to meet someone else. I'll be back in one hour. Andres will stay with you until I get back." She turned to look at him; he still had his gun drawn, though he'd put away the knife. "Keep her alive until I return." He nodded. "And Nadia," she aimed at me, "I really hope you make the right decision. I like you. We need people who are willing to shoot the Peales of this world."

And the Mr. Hineses, and the Slims, and the Lucases, and the Old Lisas, and the countless others . . . but I gave a flat sort of smile and watched her walk away until she was out of sight. Then I flicked my gaze to Andres, who was watching me. "How old are you?"

"Doesn't matter."

"Fifteen?"

"Old enough to kill you if I have to."

I ran through options in my mind. She'd told him to keep me alive, but that left a lot of gray area. Andres hadn't put away his gun, though I'd secured mine back into my jacket. "How long've you been with the Circuit?" I smiled when I saw him flinch. "Yeah, I know all about it. This isn't my first time."

"Then what are you doing here?"

"It's a good question. I'm not exactly sure, myself." At that moment, Henry approached from the right, and Andres spun to face him. I saw my chance and jumped at him, putting all my weight on his arm with the gun. The weapon fired, but the bullet was far off its mark, and suddenly Henry and Roxie and I were all on top of him, rendering him impotent. I yanked the gun out of his hand, dug into his jacket for the knife, and gave the former to Henry and the latter to Roxie. "You got anything else?"

"Won't tell you if I do," he spat in anger.

"I really don't want to search you." I sat on his chest; Roxie and Henry held an arm each. Drawing a little closer to his face, I asked, "What's your Circuit? Zion? No. You don't seem like the murdering type--that's an act. Eden more likely . . . or some other branch for petty crime. Are you trying to slide up?"

His eyes were wide; he was terrified. I was excited.

"That's right," I went on. "I told you this wasn't my first time. I know everything. And I also know you probably don't want to be there. So here's what's going to happen. You're going to take us to them. It'll be easy. You can just sit in back and tell us where to go. I'll let you off afterward."

"They'll--they'll kill me if I help you."

"I'll kill you if you don't."

"Nadia--no!"

I turned to Henry, surprised he'd spoken, annoyed, actually. "He means nothing to us. I can't let him just run off and tell Halo or the Circuit we're coming."

"Can I--can we talk for a minute?"

"It's not great timing, Henry." But I saw in his eyes an awareness that I hadn't seen in so long . . . a hint that something else was there, in him, something that was, maybe, him. "Roxie--don't let him go." I took the gun from Henry and gave it to her. To my relief, she seemed comfortable enough holding it, ordering Andres to sit against a chain-link fence and keep his hands where she could see them. She'd probably talk him to death before he could even think of escaping.

Henry and I stepped slightly aside, well within sight of Roxie and Andres, where I could keep watch on them. I was about to open my mouth but Henry suddenly did the strangest thing. He covered his ears, closed his eyes, as if trying to block something out. "Don't talk," he insisted. "Listen. We can't go to the Circuit. Please, please--I'm begging you."

Some vague panic rose in me. What was he doing? "What is wrong with you?"

"I can't explain it right now--"

"Open your eyes, Henry. Talk to me!"

"No--"

"What is the matter with you? Just open your eyes!" He wouldn't. He just kept telling me not to go to the Circuit. But his weirdness and mystery only infuriated me. "Unless you explain what is wrong with you, we're going. I'm the one making the decisions, now, like I've been doing for months. I don't need your help." I made to shove past him, but he grabbed at me. When his fingers brushed my shoulder, across my neck, and our skin touched, I felt a current move through me like an eel, sparking down through my arms, into my chest, but he didn't quite catch hold of me and instead tore the backpack off, scattering its contents in the process.

I was infuriated and spun around to face him, to yell at him, but the expression he wore instantly silenced me. He was looking at something on the ground, in absolute disbelief, and then his eyes met mine and I swore it was Henry--my Henry--when he practically whispered, "Why didn't you tell me?"

"Tell you what?"

But he declined to answer and instead dropped to his knees, picked up a small plastic bag that had fallen from my pack, opened it, and retrieved something from inside. I couldn't tell what was going on, could only watch in distraction as he threw off his hat, parted his hair, held something to the back of his head, where his neck met the base of his skull, and appeared to press. And then he started screaming, and I lost it. It was a moment of utter panic--I had no idea what to do. I just called his name, fell down beside him, but he kept pressing at the back of his head, and his screams turned to grunts of pain, and I could get nothing from him until, suddenly, he pulled his hands away, flipped his head back, his perspiring face toward the sky, his eyes pure glass under the starlight. And he breathed. Panted, more like. Just panted. As if he was taking in real air for the first time in months, as if he'd not filled his lungs, truly, for some time.

"Are you ok?" came Roxie's small, ridiculous voice from behind me. I'd forgotten her entirely and waved a hand vaguely at her to shut her up.

"Henry, Henry--" I took hold of his arms, being careful not to touch bare skin, and sort of held him up as he seemed about to pass out. "What--what in the world--" I tried to put a hand behind his head to keep it from falling back, but what I felt there horrified me. It was a hole . . . and when I drew my hand away, I saw my fingers covered in blood. I nearly dropped him but didn't, got ahold of myself, sat him up so I could see where the blood was coming from. In the back of his head, right at the base of his skull was a hole about the size of a dime. It was deep enough that I couldn't see where it ended, and it was bleeding profusely. I had to stop the blood. Pulling off my jacket, I wadded it into a ball and pressed it hard against Henry's head. He winced, but he managed to take hold of it from me and insist he was well enough to get up, that we had to move. I forced him to sit back down, argued with him, and quickly went through my bag. When I returned and gently peeled back my jacket, which was stopping the blood, I thought the wound already looked cleaner, smaller. I went ahead and took care of it anyway, doing the best I could with what I had, working around his long hair to tape down some gauze tight enough that the blood wouldn't come through. The entire time, he protested, but I didn't listen.

"We heal quickly," he huffed when I'd finished. "We have to move, now."

"You're too weak--Henry, you lost so much blood--"

"Doesn't matter," he insisted, rising, shaking, needing my assistance but loath to accept it. "They'll know, now. They'll come."

"Who?" I met his eyes and it was obvious, but what was more obvious was that this was him—was Henry. Everything inside me trembled, but there was no time to consider it, to question. He was insistent. "A car—it's down the street."

"The car? Our car?"

"No. It's a new one. Don't ask me how, but it's there. Can you make it?"

He nodded, swearing he was all right. "Take care of them," he ordered me, quickly adding, "not kill them—just, bring them with us."

I left him propped against a street lamp, went to Roxie and Andres, whom I'd mostly forgotten in the chaos. Fortunately, they, too, had been mesmerized by what Henry had done to himself and hadn't moved at all. I had no time to try to explain—had little idea myself of what had happened—but had to convince them to get in the car with us, fast.

Roxie seemed to know what I needed. "Get up, now," she insisted of Andres, giving him a little kick for effect. "Let's go."

Surprised but grateful, I nodded at her. "The Circuit is coming," I told Andres, not really certain what I meant but hoping it sounded credible. "You saw what happened to him? It's what they do to you. Come with us. We'll make sure you're safe."

"But--"

"You can't go back with Halo, now. Just come on. You know you don't want to be with them."

Maybe it was the shock of seeing what had happened to Henry, maybe it was the uncertainty of the moment, maybe it was Roxie pointing the gun at him, maybe he actually didn't want to be with the Circuit--whatever it was, he followed Henry to the car. I picked up the items that had fallen from my bag, including the ones that were on the ground, sitting in Henry's blood--a narrow tube . . . it was something I'd had in the bag and pondered but been unable to identify a purpose for. One end had a sort of lens, and the other a sharp circular opening. It'd been in a plastic bag, and I'd almost forgotten about it, but there it was, out of its bag, in a pool of red, and next to it were two small things, about the size of a dime . . . short and tubular . . . about a quarter inch thick . . . Whatever they were, I picked them up and hurried after the others.