fourth night in a row. They hadn’t found anything yet, but Kristan had heard from Vivian just that morning.

Vivian had managed to come through for them—somehow, in the midst of her own work—with some kind of breadcrumb trail for Zoey to follow through cyberspace.

Noah took their tightly bundled trash out to the end of the narrow yard and stashed it under a piece of a fallen shed. Every day, Ylli took it somewhere else to get rid of it. There was no trash collection in an area with no service, and garbage was a sure way to pinpoint an occupied house. While he was out there, Noah made sure they had enough water in the shower cistern for the next day.

When the others came home, they’d make their way in by the window over the porch. Noah checked the downstairs doors and windows one more time. Being lost in a sea of humanity was their real protection.

Noah grabbed a couple water bottles and headed upstairs.

“Hey.” Noah closed the door behind him. Lindsay looked terribly young and serious in the candlelight. “Anything interesting today?” The newspapers that Lindsay had already sucked the life out of were folded tightly and stacked at the foot of the bed.

“A few missing-persons reports.” Patches had mentioned a woman who’d disappeared from a hair salon near Apollo 11; a tiny article in the paper said she hadn’t yet been found. “The homeless and the mentally ill have been going missing for months, but this is a new development.”

“If she’s taking people who will be noticed, that’s a bad sign. Means she has people to help her get away with it.”

“Not for long, if we can help it. She lost a lot of support after what happened in New York.” Lindsay folded the paper he was reading and turned to Noah. “All locked up?”

“Everything’s settled. Pretty quiet out there tonight.” No sirens for the last few hours. The moon was fading away, finishing its monthly cycle, and superstition suggested that had something to do with the lull.

Noah peeled off his T-shirt and slipped out of his jeans. “Did you need anything else?”

“I don’t think so.” Lindsay gathered the newspapers and stacked them next to the door to be taken out in the morning. “Quiet in here tonight too. It feels strange to wait around while the others are out working.”

“It’s good for them to go out and do their own thing. Zoey is more comfortable around them, anyway.” Noah leaned back against the wall at the head of the bed and soaked up a little of the cool from the drywall. It had gotten quite warm today, not that he minded. It was good for Lindsay. “I feel like an old man, though,” he admitted, looking over at Lindsay with a grin.

Lindsay raised his eyebrows as he shed his clothes and came back to crawl into bed next to Noah. He lay on his belly, propped up on his elbows to look Noah over. “Oh? You certainly don’t look like an old man.”

Noah laughed at him. “You should have seen Zoey’s face when she found out I had another life before this. Like, ‘wow, you’re really old!’ Maybe I just feel it, though.”

He reached out and petted Lindsay’s silky hair. It hadn’t taken long to figure out that Lindsay was a sucker for it. He liked Lindsay. Not only because Lindsay had saved his life or because Cyrus had given him to Lindsay, but for the most basic reasons—Lindsay was smart and funny and had a lot to like about him. Liking Lindsay didn’t cover attraction, but that was there too.

“I don’t think it’s a bad thing that you had time to have a real life before all of this.” Lindsay leaned into Noah’s hand. “Two of them, from the way you talk about where you grew up. The rest of us... It’s strange for me to think that, except for Zoey, I probably had the closest thing to a normal life before...

Before.”

Any mention of life before Cyrus was a rare thing. Noah petted a little longer because he could see it was working. And it kept him from leaning over to kiss Lindsay. He had no real understanding of where Lindsay wanted the lines. “What do you want normal to be now?”

Lindsay looked startled by the question, and he was silent for a while before he answered. “I don’t know. With Cyrus, I knew where I belonged. I belonged to Dane. You and the others, you’re depending on me right now, but what happens when we get Dane back and all this is over?” He shook his head. “I don’t know what to expect. Cyrus is gone.”

Cyrus’s death was an immense loss. Noah couldn’t imagine how Dane was going to react. As for Lindsay, Noah could see how hard this was for him.

“Don’t think of me as depending on you. I’m trying to follow your lead while giving you the support you need.” Noah slid down and propped himself up on one elbow to face Lindsay. “If you need more, I’ll do more. About the future, the past is the best fortune teller...short of a good fortune teller.”

“I’m trying not to get used to any of this. I don’t want...” Lindsay stopped and swallowed hard. “I want Dane back. I want to know where I belong.”

“Oh, Lin.” Being adrift was terrible and frightening—like being lost at sea. Noah couldn’t know exactly how Lindsay felt right now, but he’d been there in his own way. “I’m not leaving. I don’t want to leave. I don’t have to ask ‘why me?’ when I’m with you.”

It hurt to say that, to take another step away from the human, mundane, joyful, hedonistic life he’d shared with Elle. The life that had held its own magic would never return. He would never hear her laugh again, never follow her on red-eye flights halfway around the world, never throw another dinner party, never dance with her until they were giddy with exhaustion. This was his reality now, his purpose, and his home.

Lindsay seemed surprised at that, and he searched Noah’s expression for a long moment. Slowly, he nodded and leaned forward to rub his cheek against Noah’s. “Thank you,” he whispered. “I don’t want you to leave.”

“I want Dane back too. We’ll make it happen.” If Dane was gone, dead, they couldn’t fix that, but knowing that would be better than the empty space where Dane belonged.

Lindsay’s answer came in the form of a slim, chilly body tucked up against Noah, and Lindsay’s face pressing into the curve of Noah’s neck. He sighed softly, with a tiny hitch in his breath, and stayed there.

“I like that,” Noah murmured in Lindsay’s ear, in case Lindsay wouldn’t take it for granted. Noah loved that feeling of being someone’s safe place, a wall against the world.

“Me too.” Lindsay raised his head and Noah felt soft, cool lips brush his jaw before he settled down again.

Tonight felt like the eye of the storm. Any time now, Zoey and the others would uncover something or Patches would bring some news, and they would be on the move again.

Noah shifted enough to be able to see Lindsay cuddled up to him, head on his shoulder. He ducked his head and pressed a kiss to Lindsay’s lips, and Lindsay made a pleased sound. It was good to be reassured that there was more than chemistry under pressure between them, but Noah could feel Lindsay falling asleep and he stifled a quiet laugh. They were both exhausted, and the uneasy city nights were full of sounds that woke Lindsay far too often. The candles were burbling quietly in the back of Noah’s mind, and he turned out their flames one at a time, then gave Lindsay one last kiss goodnight.

Feeling Lindsay’s cool form limp and heavy with sleep sent a spike of fear through Noah at the realization that he was on a path leading to the kind of devotion that would destroy him again if things went terribly wrong. But Noah wouldn’t try to stop it. He knew Lindsay in a way he couldn’t explain, like he’d felt Lindsay’s inner self meet his when Lindsay was trying to keep him alive. He remembered feeling the echo of his own loneliness and uncertainty there.

That was something he’d had with Elle—she had known him in a way that meant he never had to be ashamed of who and what he was, even if she hadn’t known the details. He’d never expected to find that level of intimacy again. Lindsay’s dedication reminded him of her, the way she’d loved him until he loved himself. She’d always had faith in his ability to do the right thing. The right thing now was to give up the cowardice of isolation.