I glanced at Rooster, whose eyes were fixed on me with an expression that made my chest feel strangely tight. "Not strangers," he corrected quietly. "Family."
The word hung in the air between us, loaded with meaning I wasn't ready to examine. I looked down at my drawings instead, focusing on the concrete threat rather than the complex emotions Rooster's statement had stirred.
Butch's expression had shifted from contemplative to determined. "We need to find these devices. Now. And then we need to prepare for whatever's coming tomorrow."
I nodded, already planning how to locate each buried tracker with the plants' help. It was time to show them exactly what I could do—and hope it would be enough to keep us all alive.
Outside, I pulled Rooster toward the fence line where Victor had planted the newest device, my fingers wrapped around the cuff of his leather jacket rather than touching his skin.
My steps were purposeful despite the anxiety churning in my stomach. I hadn't revealed this ability to anyone before—this strange connection to plants that had kept me alive when all else failed.
Even as a child, before I'd been abandoned, I'd learned to hide how leaves seemed to whisper to me, how roots reached toward my fingers when I sat in gardens. My parents had called it unnatural, freakish. But now, this "freakish" ability might be the only thing standing between these shifters and whatever trap Victor was setting.
"This is where you saw him plant it?" Rooster asked as we approached the spot where Victor had knelt earlier.
I nodded, then released his jacket and dropped to my knees in the dirt. The sun was beginning its afternoon descent, casting long shadows across the compound as I placed my palm flat against the ground. Closing my eyes, I focused on the subtle vibrations pulsing through the soil—the silent language of roots and microorganisms that humans couldn't hear, but I had understood since childhood.
Here-danger. Buried-death. Here-here-here.
The message came immediately, the plants' distress sharp and clear. They hated the foreign object buried among them, this metal intruder leaking its poisonous signals into their network.
I opened my eyes and pointed to an exact spot near the fence post, not quite where Victor had appeared to place it—he'd been clever enough to misdirect, burying the actual device several inches from where he'd pretended to kneel.
"Right here?" Rooster confirmed, crouching beside me.
I nodded, watching intently as he pulled a small folding knife from his pocket and began to carefully loosen the soil. He worked with surprising delicacy for such large hands, removing small scoops of dirt until a glint of metal reflected the afternoon sunlight.
"There," he murmured, brushing away the last of the soil to reveal a small disc about the size of a quarter. A tiny red light blinked steadily on its surface, and what looked like a minuscule antenna protruded from one side. "Son of a bitch."
He moved to pick it up, but I caught his wrist, shaking my head frantically. If the device could detect shifters, touching it directly might trigger some kind of alert. Instead, I gestured for him to scoop it onto the knife blade, which he did with a nod of understanding.
Once the device rested on the flat of his blade, I leaned in to study it more closely. The design was familiar—similar to others I'd seen, but with subtle differences. This one was newer, more sophisticated.
I pulled my notepad from my pocket and quickly sketched the device, adding details of its internal components based on what I'd observed in other locations when hunters had been less careful about concealing their technology.
Rooster watched me draw with undisguised amazement. "How do you know what's inside it?"
I tapped my eye, then made a gesture encompassing various cities—I'd seen these things before, in different stages of assembly, in different locations.
"You've been watching them a long time," he said softly. "Learning their methods."
I nodded, then stood and pointed toward another section of the fence about fifty yards away. The plants were already calling to me, their distress signals forming a map of buried threats around the compound's perimeter.
"Another one over there?" Rooster asked, carefully wrapping the first device in his bandana before pocketing it.
I nodded again, already moving in that direction. For the next hour, we worked our way around the compound'sperimeter, with me leading Rooster from one buried device to another.
At each location, I'd kneel, commune with the plants through touch, then point to the exact spot where the tracker was hidden. Rooster would dig it up, wrap it carefully, and add it to our growing collection.
By the time we'd found the fifth device, a pattern had emerged—they formed a perfect ring around the clubhouse, positioned at strategic intervals that covered all possible entry and exit points.
Someone had spent weeks, maybe months, establishing this surveillance network. The thought sent a chill down my spine despite the warmth of the afternoon sun.
"How many more?" Rooster asked as we approached the sixth location, wiping sweat from his brow with his forearm.
I held up six fingers. Half done, half to go.
"We should split up," came a deep voice from behind us. "Cover more ground before sunset."
