She woke at four.
The lodestone.
Awake before the alarm, before the sound, before any physical signal. The specific quality of the field at four in the morning carrying something new — a frequency at its edge, at the forty-mile mark, moving.
Moving toward them.
She lay still for a moment and felt it.
She thought: Mira.
She got up.
She dressed quietly.
She went to Remy's door.
She knocked once.
It opened immediately.
He was already dressed.
He had been sitting up, she thought — had been sitting in the dark of his room feeling the same thing she'd felt, the frequency at the field's edge moving toward the house. He had the quality of someone who has been awake for a while and has been very still in the being-awake, the specific stillness of someone holding something too large to h
