Page 145 of Storm Caller

We break into a fast walk, checking behind us as we wind a few blocks through the city toward the central market, just in case. Once we’re reasonably sure that no one is following or cares that we’ve left, we head north, making our way to the factory district.

“Put your hood up,” I tell Domino.

We reach the Fog’s headquarters, and I knock on the door, hoping someone will answer. I peer up at the cameras and then look around, worried there might be eyes on us.

“Are they here?” Domino asks.

“They have to be.”

I knock again, and then the door pops open to reveal Brooklyn, wide-eyed and covered in sweat. “Fuck!” she declares. “What are you doing here? You scared us half to death.”

“Sorry. Why?”

She shakes her head and then gestures for us to enter. “This is literally the worst time,” she answers, which really doesn’t tell me anything. She doesn’t elaborate as she heads back up the stairs, taking them two at a time until we reach the eighth floor.

“What’s going on?” I ask as we enter the living room.

I come to a stop at the sight of an unfamiliar man tied to a chair in the middle of the room, surrounded by Henry, Ada, and several other members of the Fog.

I’d estimate him to be in his late sixties, with wavy black hair streaked with silver, sharp features, and bronzed skin.

“What’s going on?” I ask.

Henry glances over at Brooklyn, then to me, his expression suggesting he’s wondering what on earth I’m doing here.

“Meet Dr. Mowry,” he says.

“You found him?”

“Edward has been tracking him,” Henry says, gesturing to the far wall, where Edward sits in front of a bank of computer monitors. He’s wearing a headset with a microphone and is busy clicking away. “We ambushed him less than an hour ago, and we were about to start questioning him.”

“And you didn’t think I’d want to know about this?” I ask.

“Poet, this is a delicate situation,” Ada says. “Besides, it all happened very quickly.”

“You wouldn’t know about any of this without us,” I say, my voice rising. “I have a right to be here. And what about Rook? Have you—”

“Poet,” Henry interrupts, his tone patient. “We’re sorry. You’re right. We’re simply doing the best we can.”

“Fine, then I’m staying for the interrogation.”

“We don’t—” Ada starts.

“It wasn’t a question,” I say. She hesitates, and I fold my arms, spreading my stance, before she sighs and shakes her head.

“Very well, but your friend has to leave.”

“Of course,” Domino says before checking in with me. “Will you be okay?”

“I’m fine,” I say. “As long as I’m included in any major decisions.”

I offer Dr. Eze a pointed look, and she presses her lips together but doesn’t say anything. Domino and a few other people leave the room. The rest of us turn to face the doctor. He doesn’t look scared, exactly, but it’s clear he’s nervous.

“Is that necessary?” I ask, gesturing to his restraints.

“Until we understand his intentions,” Ada says before addressing our prisoner. “You are Dr. Mowry?”

His gaze shifts across the room, pausing on each person, including Edward, who’s spun around in his chair and is sitting back with his feet planted wide and his hands folded over his stomach. Mowry says nothing, his chin lifting, though I detect the slightest wobble in his features.