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The road is quiet. Only the occasional car passes, its headlights piercing the dark.

“Destination?” the car insists.

I’m beginning to hate her. “Stop auto-drive,” I say. Maybe now she’ll leave me alone.

I hold on to the wheel again. I’m probably a sitting duck in this car. As soon as Klaus gets free, he’ll alert someone. He might even be able to take control of his vehicle remotely.

What was I thinking?

Still, the giddiness of being in such a car doesn’t fade.

“Does this car have a stealth mode?” I ask.

“This Aston Martin is equipped with three cloaking levels,” it says. “One. Heat and infrared. Two. Radar and transmissions. Three. Low visibility.”

“I want them all,” I say.

“Reminders. All internal heating will be turned off. All ability to communicate will be cut. Low visibility can only be achieved in certain light levels and environments.”

“Fine, fine,” I say. “Just do it.”

“Cloaking levels one, two, and three initiated,” it says.

I try to relax. I figure Pale Boy and whoever sent him will think I’m clueless. Hopefully this car is smarter than they are.

I drive for another hour, fighting sleep. I don’t know where I’m headed or what I’m doing next. When I feel like I’ve done enough random zigzagging on highways and back roads to make it difficult to figure out my path, I pull over beside a twenty-four-hour convenience store to look at my stash.

“Can I get a light?” I ask the car.

“Interior lights will compromise cloaking levels one and three.”

“That’s fine,” I say. “It’s just for a minute.”

An overhead light pops on.

The sight of my grandma’s quilt gives me some comfort in the unfamiliar car. I’m glad I took it. I don’t know if I’ll ever get home again.

The pile of gadgets I took doesn’t mean anything to me. The watch, the shoes, bits of metal with no obvious use. Two slender metal wands. The big onyx ring I was wearing is in there. It must have fallen off my finger during the struggle. I put it on again.

I sit back against the driver’s seat. What am I doing here? Nobody knows where Jax is. This car won’t help me.

Maybe I should just drive to the silo and take my chances.

“Your temperature and pulse indicate fatigue and hunger,” the car says. “Would you like a cold beverage or caffeine shot?”

“Yes to the cold beverage,” I say. Good thing, since I don’t have a penny to my name to even walk into the convenience store.

A list of drinks scrolls on the dashboard screen. I choose “Mr. Pibb” and have to smile that my would-be abductor has the same soft-drink preferences as me.

A buzzing sound by my elbow makes me shift nearer the door. The console opens and a can of Mr. Pibb rises from inside.

This, I understand. I take the can. Can Vigilantes get anything they want, anytime they want it? I remember Jax calling that guy to bring me clothes. Who was that? Armond? I had been half asleep, but I caught the end of the conversation.

Armond. Could he find Jax for me?

If this is Klaus’s car, he would know Armond too. And Armond isn’t a Vigilante, so it shouldn’t snub me.

“I need to contact someone,” I tell the car.