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“What’s the Reticulum?” she asked, almost afraid to know the answer.

Suddenly an uneasy silence descended over the room that had the hair on Esta’s neck rising as three pairs of eyes swiveled to her.

“The Reticulum,” Dottie said, like Esta should already know this.

But when Esta simply shook her head to indicate she didn’t understand, Gracie’s brows drew together. “Who did you say you were again?”

“Friends of Sam’s,” Harte supplied. “Old friends. We’ve been away for a while.”

Gracie’s expression was doubtful, clearly suspicious. “You must’ve been on the moon,” she said, but neither Esta nor Harte responded to the implied question. Gracie frowned as she glanced at the two dancers, who both gave a kind of shrug, but in the end they must have decided they trusted Sammie enough to let the impossibility go. “The Reticulum is President Grew’s number one priority. Has been for years.”

“He’s used the promise of finishing it to keep himself in office,” Paul said darkly.

“But what is it?” Esta pressed.

The three exchanged glances, almost like they were nervous even to talk about it. Finally, Dottie spoke. “It’s a kind of magical net they’re building over the entire country—from sea to shining sea, as they say. If they ever manage to finish the network, they’ll be able to eliminate the old magic once and for all.”

PAST FEARS MADE PRESENT

1952—San Francisco

As Gracie described the Reticulum in greater detail, Harte listened with a kind of horrified detachment. All at once he was both there in that tiny, cramped studio apartment and also back in a warehouse in Manhattan where Jack Grew had boasted to him about a machine that would eliminate magic better than the Brink ever could.

Harte had done what he could to destroy that machine before he’d left the city, but he should have expected that something like this would be possible, especially since he’d been stupid enough to literally hand Jack the Book. Even with all he’d experienced, though, Harte was having trouble imagining something on the scale of what Sammie’s friends were describing.

“You’re saying that the Reticulum could kill every Mageus in this country,” he said, his voice sounding as hollow as he suddenly felt.

“I’m sure there will be places where a person could go,” Paul said. “Remote, out-of-the-way places, but who can go live in the wilderness? Who would want to?”

“The Brotherhoods would probably just build another tower there once they found out about it, anyway,” Gracie said dourly.

“The rest of the country has really accepted this?” Esta asked, sounding every bit as horrified as Harte felt.

“They haven’t told people the truth,” Paul explained. “According to all the official statements, the mechanisms in the towers simply detect and neutralize unregistered magic. If those who have the old magic turn themselves in and give up their power willingly, they wouldn’t be affected at all.”

“After what happened in San Francisco, people must know that’s a lie,” Harte said, thinking of Sammie and the mother he’d lost.

“Individual people might know,” Gracie said. “But people in general? Crowds don’t care about the details.”

“Oh, people know,” Dottie said bitterly. “People always know. But they don’t care enough to stop it. The internments of American citizens during the last war certainly didn’t concern them. Why should this? For most people, it’s easier to look away. Even good people can convince themselves that something so terrible could only happen if the victims deserved it. ‘If they had simply turned themselves in,’ they’ll say. ‘If they had only given up their magic,’ they’ll say.”

“It doesn’t help that the Brotherhoods know how to keep the country scared,” Paul agreed. “Anytime people in a community start questioning the need for the Reticulum, the Brotherhoods simply do a raid and show exactly how many unregistereds there are hiding in plain sight. They round them up and cart them off, and the community settles down.”

“It’s enough to keep everyone quiet,” Dottie said.

By now the tea Gracie had been preparing had long since been forgotten. The discussion of the Reticulum and the danger they were all in had been enough to make the already-somber mood in the apartment practically funereal.

“There has to be something that can be done,” Harte said.

“Oh, plenty is being done,” Paul told him. “The Antistasi dismantle the towers almost as fast as the government can build them.”

“They’re still around?” Esta asked, sounding almost breathless.

Gracie nodded. “Of course. There’s also the Quellant, if you can manage to get ahold of some. If there is a raid, it makes your affinity impossible to detect.”

Harte glanced at Esta. Her lipstick had worn away, and she looked more tired than he’d first noticed. But her eyes had a new brightness, a hopefulness that he understood. After all, if they had more of the Quellant, he could protect Esta from Seshat. He could buy himself more time.

“How hard is it to find?” Harte asked.