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“W hat’s this?” Wyatt’s hair is up in a messy man bun, some longer strands falling in his face as he looks at the napkin-wrapped vial in my hand. Some old-timey crooner on his record player is lamenting how lonely rivers flow to the sea.

“Juno’s Miracle.” I push it into his hand. “Start working it up in the HCL. All the basics—type, Rhesus, diseases, deficiencies—everything.”

Gretchen rolls over, her head cocked to the side. “Just one vial?”

“I’ll explain later?—”

“Can’t wait.” Aang’s snide voice comes from where he’s bent over a microscope.

“Don’t be a dick,” Evie calls.

“You love me,” he parrots back at her.

I don’t think I can handle actually speaking with anyone right now, not when I’m walking a tightrope in my mind. “I’ll be back later.”

“Already out of here?” Gretchen asks.

“I need to see my sister.” I tighten my backpack strap and turn to leave.

“Going to sign up for one of the re-education camps, are you?” Aang asks.

“What did I just say?” Evie rolls her eyes.

“That wasn’t me being a dick; that was me serving cunt,” Aang simpers.

“Just run it. I’ll be back soon.” I’m not in the mood for whatever beef Aang has with me. I’d rather spend my anger on Juno, where it belongs.

I pass the guards, who I’ve named Heckle and Jeckle, then continue past my Secret Service agent and through the front doors.

“Found the cure already?” the red-headed soldier asks.

“Real cute.” I shake my head and trudge back toward the White House.

“I’m only kidding.” He jogs a few steps and catches up to me. “I’m Gage, by the way.”

I give him a sidelong glance and quicken my pace. “Okay.”

He clears his throat. “Usually this is the part where the other person introduces themselves.”

“You already know who I am.”

“Touché.” He smiles, and I know for a fact that smile has dropped plenty of panties. Mine stay firmly in place.

“I don’t want to get off on the wrong foot, that’s all. If you need anything, just let me know. I’ll be stationed out here for the foreseeable future—day duty—and I want to be helpful any way I can.”

I give a pointed glance to the rifle slung over his shoulder. “I don’t think I’m going to need your sort of help.”

He shrugs. “You never know. Maybe lead can kill the virus.” He throws a look over his shoulder.

I do too and see the Secret Service agent following. “Ugh.” I stop and turn around.

The agent stops, too.

“No, come here.” I wave him toward me.

Gage looks between us, curiosity in his eyes. He’s handsome. I’ll give him that. But I’m not sure why he’s hellbent on talking to me.

The agent is still waffling, his expression unsure.

“Come on. You can do it,” I coax him closer.

“Ma’am.” The agent stops a few paces away. He’s older, maybe in his fifties, with salt and pepper hair and a wary expression.

“I’m Georgia. This is Gage. And you are?”

“Agent Wassen.” His voice gets caught on a cold breeze that rips by. It cuts through my SoundGarden t-shirt and chills my skin. I reach for the zipper on my coat and work to pull it up. “Okay, Agent Wassen. You don’t have to sneak around behind me whenever I go somewhere. If you’re going to be following me, you can just walk with me like a regular human. How’s that sound?”

He adjusts his reflective sunglasses. “Ma’am, protocol is that I keep a fair distance away so I can see threats.”

“What threats?” I wave a hand at the empty street. The barricade around the White House extends another block, and beyond that only a few people are moving, all of them in military fatigues.

“I’ll know them when I see them. Ma’am.” He tips his head forward at me, then retreats back to his lurking position.

“It was a good try,” Gage says. “May I?” He points at my coat zipper I’m still fumbling with.

“I can do it.” I yank the slider up, but it doesn’t catch. For some reason, my vision goes blurry, tears swimming in my vision as I try again. Jesus, I’m falling apart.

“Hey.” Gage’s voice is softer. “Just let me try it. Okay?”

“I’m fine,” I say, but I drop my hands.

He reaches out slowly as I take a deep breath. A bitchy zipper and a Secret Service agent who doesn’t want to walk with me aren’t things worthy of a crying jag. I know that, but I also know those aren’t the reasons I’m having trouble keeping my composure.

Ziiiiip . “There you go.” Gage steps back. “All set.”

“Thank you.” My throat is thick with unshed tears, and I turn and continue walking toward the White House.

He doesn’t follow this time. “See you when you get back.”

I raise a hand in acknowledgement, not trusting myself with more words.

I don’t know how long it’s going to take, but I’m not leaving the White House until Juno talks to me.

* * *

As it turns out, it takes 8 hours and 24 minutes before I even catch sight of her. Fatima did her best to shoo me out and back to the lab, but I refused. Instead, I pushed my way into the Oval Office and camped out on one of the sofas. Candice (an enabler, god bless her) brought me lunch—a decent ham and swiss sandwich with the freshest potato chips I’d had in at least a year—and I used the government Wi-Fi to spend some of my time researching my lab mates, their work, and their discoveries, and the rest going through more CDC data on failed vaccine trials. I should’ve recognized Gretchen’s name from journals. She was one of the lead epidemiologists when news of the virus first emerged. Her work at Stanford paved the way for ramping up safety protocols and screening for the plague at ports of entry. Wyatt isn’t quite as high profile, but he’s done solid work in microbiology and virology going back several years. Evie and Aang are similarly credentialed. Out of all of them, I’m the least experienced. No wonder Aang wants to kick my ass.

“Georgia!” Juno hurries in, Vince at her back. “What are you doing here? Fatima said you’ve been here all day.” She has the nerve to look at me like I’m out of line. Like I’m the problem here.

“Where have you been?” My question comes out far shriller than I intend.

She walks to her desk and sits down, already settling in as if she’s been here for years. “I’m the president, Georgia,” she says in a lecturing tone that sets my teeth on edge. “I have endless responsibilities. That’s where I’ve been. You have responsibilities, too, and they aren’t being met when you’re sitting here pouting or whatever it is you’re doing.”

“What?” I explode, instantly on my feet. “What the hell are you talking about?” I’m yelling. I don’t fucking care that I’m yelling at the president in the Oval Office. “You send me off somewhere else, all my stuff is there, you had zero intention of me ever staying with you at all. You sold me out to Valen, a total stranger, like I’m someone you can whore out? And then you ran away on a fucking helicopter? What is wrong with you ? What the fuck is going on?”

“I’ll just uh …” Vince backs out and closes the door.

I’m standing over her now, right in front of her desk. “And resorts ? For blood? I don’t need any fucking blood, what I need is my sister!”

She sighs and pinches the bridge of her nose, the room going silent as I swallow down the rest of my fury as best I can. I could handle her being an ass, or being hard on me, or being anything other than this. Because whatever is happening between us right now, I don’t understand it. And when I don’t understand something, I will pick at it and pull it apart and study it until all my questions are answered. Or I’ll die trying.

“Why aren’t you talking to me?” I say more quietly this time. “You’ve never been like this before. Secretive and, and … What the hell is going on?”

She meets my gaze, and finally, finally some of her facade is falling away. No snide expression, no irritated set of her lips. “You know, when Mom and Dad adopted you, I didn’t understand at first. I didn’t know why I wasn’t enough for them, why they wanted to adopt—and a little white girl at that.” She laughs lightly and drops her hands into her lap. “But then, my teenage hormones kicked in, and I was so happy to not be the only one anymore. Mom wouldn’t hover so much, and Dad would be wrapped up in whatever sport you chose to play or instrument you were learning. I’d be able to make my own way.” She looks up at me. “But that’s not what happened. Instead, I’m the one who invested in you, who loved you, who taught you how to shoot a basketball, how to read music, how to kick creeps where it hurts. You became mine as much as theirs. Maybe even more, especially after they passed.”

“Stop trying to soften me up!” I turn my back and walk away. “That’s what this is, isn’t it? You bringing up Mom and Dad and?—”

“No.” She stands and comes around her desk. “No, I just want you to know that maybe the things I’m doing—maybe they don’t make sense. But these decisions I’ve made, they’ll help you. They’ll help everyone. And in the end, they’ll bring us closer.”

“What decisions?” I turn back to her. “What have you done? Blood resorts? Me reporting to Valen? I need the truth from you, Juno. I’m fucking tired of begging you to level with me. This isn’t like you! I want answers. If I don’t get them …” I let out a frustrated sigh that seems to deflate everything in me.

She sighs heavily. “This is the only way it could work, the only deal Valen and his people would accept. I agreed to give him access to you and your research in exchange for samples of his people’s blood.”

“And the blood resorts?” I can’t even say the words without sneering.

“Those were the second part of the deal. Access to you and the resorts are what I gave up so that we can find the cure.”

I whirl on her. “You sold me out.”

“No.” She shakes her head and reaches for my hands.

I pull away. My entire body is cold, my blood thumping sluggishly in my ears. I’m caught in a trap; one I can’t see the inner workings of. What does Valen want with my research? Is Juno telling the truth even now? Or is there more?

“I didn’t sell you out, Georgia.” She speaks faster now. “You’ll be safe. They’ve promised me that you won’t be touched—not by the dangerous factions of their own people, President Gray’s maniacs, or anyone else. You’re the most protected person in this city. Maybe more so than even me.”

“Wouldn’t want the prize cow to stop giving milk, is that it?” I both love and hate the way she flinches from my words.

“Georgia, please.” She reaches for my hands again. “I’ve told you from the start that you’re going to be the one who ends this crisis. These deals I’ve made—they’ve given you what you need to do it. Don’t you see?”

“The deals—you mean putting people into these blood camps. For what?” I ask. “Why didn’t you tell me about them and what the hell are they?”

She looks away. “The same way we need their blood to survive, they need ours.”

“What?”

“Valen’s people need our blood. It’s totally harmless.” She glances away. “A short vacation and a few blood donations, and we’ve met that part of the deal.”

Foreboding has already made a home in my chest, like a bird building a nest. Stick by stick, Juno is adding to it, making it sturdy for whatever horrid egg is on its way. “Who are his people? Is that where you went today? To meet with them?”

“Yes.” She presses her lips tightly together, then adds, “I met with Gregor.”

“Who is he? Where? Where do they come from?”

“I can’t answer any of that.” She shivers for a moment. “I don’t know where they come from. I’ve only ever met him at locations of his choosing. He’s …” Her grip tightens on mine. “They’re dangerous people. Not people—I-I don’t know what they are, really.” She steps closer, her voice going lower. “I thought maybe once you could look at their blood, you’d tell me. This has all been so that you could get a closer look, so you can help with more than just the cure.”

“How?” And the question that seems to grow larger in my mind with each passing second: what the hell makes you so certain I can do this?

She drops her voice to barely a whisper. “We can’t talk about this here.”

I’m struck dumb. Both by the fear in her eyes and the way she glances around as if she thinks we’re being watched. What is this? She’s the most powerful person in the world. She’s president; she won it all and calls the shots. But the worry in her eyes says otherwise. It says far more than her whispered words: she’s in over her head.

I’m utterly lost. It’s as if the world has shifted beneath my feet again and again. Where do we stand now?

“Are you all right?” I whisper.

“We’re fine. We’ll be fine.” She steps back and adds loudly, “In any case, you have what you need. We all want to end the plague, that’s not a question. I just need you to continue your research and share your findings with Valen. On that note, it would be best if you stayed at the lab building where you can focus on your work, and I can focus here on mine. For now, I have a meeting I can’t miss.” Striding toward the door, she opens it for me. “Please let Candice or Fatima know if you need anything else for the lab.”

I don’t know what to do. She looks commanding right now, like someone in complete control of everything and everyone around her. But now I see that for what it is. She’s surviving, and she’s trying to make sure I survive, too. It doesn’t quench my anger, it doesn’t do anything to repair the fraying threads that bind us, but I still trust her. Because she’s right—she is more a mother to me than anyone else in my life. If I can protect her, I will.

I pass by her, then stop and pull her in for a hug. Her familiar perfume wafts by again, and I whisper into her ear. “Be careful.”

She hugs me back, tighter than ever, then lets go. “Hurry up and get back. It’s dark out.”

I nod and stride past Candice, who’s busy pretending to be on a call though none of the lines on her phone are lit.

Walking through the evening gloom, I slow my pace and breathe in the frigid air.

Footsteps behind me have me whirling. A girl is jogging toward me, her flats slapping against the pavement as my Secret Service shadow strides along behind her.

“Dr. Clark?” she calls.

“Yeah?” I guess she’s not a threat since Mr. Secret Service keeps his distance.

“Um, hi.” She gives me a little wave as she approaches. “I’m Sheila.”

“Hi, I guess. What can I do for you?” I want to get back to my apartment, somewhere I can sit and think.

The girl slows, her furry earmuffs looking cozy despite the chill. I need a set of those. “You forgot this.” She furtively hands me an envelope.

“Huh?” I look at the nondescript paper.

“Okay, bye.” She turns and scurries back up Pennsylvania Avenue.

I stare after her, then stuff the envelope in my pocket. It’s not like I can read it in the dark, and Sheila doesn’t seem inclined to give me any explanation.

The soldiers in front of the hotel wave me in, though the redhead from earlier isn’t here. Once I’m out of the cold, I open the envelope. My sister’s scrawl is almost too tiny to read. “Old Capitol Deli, 1:45 am. Lose your agent. Burn this NOW.”

I re-read the note then stuff it into my pocket. Maybe this will give me the answers I’m looking for.