"What was that?"

Thomas was the first to speak. They were standing at the foot of the ladder, all shaken by the many faces of the Fixer. None wanted to venture back up, but they were too intrigued to just walk away – or flee.

"He thinks no one knows. We all do though," Eddie said.

"Know what?" Thomas asked. His view of Oscar was one of awe with a fearful frosting. He would have never imagined he'd see the man run scared.

"About his reflection. They don't get on. That's why the mirror was covered. It's the only one here, and it's always got that blanket on it."

"We've all peeked under it at some time, though," said Alex quietly.

Eddie nodded, looking guilty. He shifted on his feet, though there was no sign of the only person who might object.

"So he's a Silver." Thomas was thoughtful.

There were very few Silvers about and their existence has been one of great concern. Having such a power meant you could be anywhere you wished, with no one being able to stop you. You could see and hear anything. A Blocker could stop you but, even with everyone having powers, their use was minimal. Mirrors were a decoration people had and often forgot about, even if they looked in one multiple times a day. You could check your hair or if your jacket matched the colour of your eyes, then walk on without mentally acknowledging a mirror hung in front of you.

"He is that," said Alex.

"Damned good one too, or would be if they got on."

"Got on? His reflection is part of him, isn't it? Don't you have to get on?"

"Not them. They hates each other. Oscar is stuck in here and his reflection goes where it likes."

"Yeah," Alex agreed. "It gives him information, which is where we come in, but only when it feels like it. And it's getting worse."

"So Oscar's afraid of it?"

"Well, not really. Not scared. Frustrated and pissed at it, maybe?" Alex shrugged. "I'd run myself, if that happened to me."

Thomas nodded. They'd begun to walk, their intrigue fading and being replaced by the realisation that Oscar, if he found them loitering, wouldn't be happy about it.

"Me too," Thomas said, nodding. He looked around. "Where're we going?"

"We've got work to do."

They walked along a narrow corridor. Strip light cases concealed by smears of unknown stains did their best to illuminate the hall, and an equally faded carpet tried valiantly to conceal the concrete beneath. The walls were in a worse state than either of the other two. Mostly bare of any covering, with only scraps left to cling on in the hope more might come along and make them feel less isolated and useless, the walls stood oblivious to any who passed. Too much time had elapsed since anyone had shown them attention, so they thought it only fair to reciprocate the indifference.

"What work? What are we going to do?"

"You'll see," Alex said.

"Why so much secrecy?"

"It's not secrecy. We don't know yet. We haven't been assigned."

"Assigned?"

Alex stopped and turned to Thomas.

"Look, you're safe now. You've got a family. We'll look out for you and you'll do the same for me. Stop asking so many questions."

Thomas nodded. He felt reprimanded, though he didn't think the Chameleon meant it that way. Thomas himself would have found so many questions irritating. Eddie nudged him.

"Come on, it's just up there."

"Wha... I mean, OK."

They started walking again. They were nearing the end of the hallway where a door was partially open. Some of the other children could be seem looking at pieces of paper and speaking in low voices. Another door stood to their right and, as they passed, Thomas saw a large closed padlock was hooked through a clasp below the handle and lock.

"What's in there?" he asked.

"That's his office."

"Office?"

"Yes," said Eddie. "It's where he meets his customers. You've already been in there."

Thomas stopped. He hadn't realised they were so close to where he'd bought the vials.

"You OK?" Alex asked, turning towards the Nomad again.

Except it wasn't a turn, exactly. Eddie turned, but Alex did something else entirely. The Chameleon morphed to face Thomas. There was no turn of the body or head, but suddenly Thomas and Alex were face to face. It was like a folding. Like turning a sock inside out.

Thomas shuddered, but neither of his new friends commented. Eddie made no reaction to Alex's manoeuvre, as if it happened regularly, but Thomas hadn't seen anything like it. Even Bren moved like people were supposed to. The question about his welfare had another layer, now.

He nodded, not trusting himself to speak. Powers were part of everyone's life, even his. He didn't possess them, but was constantly affected by their touch. It was surprising to be surprised.

Besides. In that room, Thomas should have found the answer to his problems. His dreams, even. In that room, he should have been reborn. He wasn't, however. He was still just him. A ten year old Nomad, hunted for sport.

Remaining silent, he walked on. The others exchanged an expressionless glance, and followed. Thomas paused at the partially opened door. From inside, he could hear low muttering. Conversations held in tones hushed enough for him to hear there were words, but not be able to make them out. He looked up at the door, seeing something he hadn't noticed until then.

A series of red slashes, marked in blood.

He clenched his fist, remembering the blood still on his palm from a similar mark in the loft.

Alex saw him pause and put a hand on his shoulder.

"You know what that is?"

Thomas nodded.

"I do. Is... that you?"

"Me?" Alex laughed.

"Well, not just you. This gang. Are you them?"

Eddie and Alex exchanged a look that Thomas couldn't decipher. Was it an indication to lie? To open up? To take action because they'd been discovered?

"Not exactly," Eddie answered.

"What does that mean?" Thomas asked. They either were or weren't, surely. There was no middle ground.

"Well... we are the ones who put those markings in places, yes."

"So you hurt people? As well as being thieves?"

Alex stepped forward suddenly, close enough for Thomas to feel the breath on his face.

"Hey!" Alex said sharply. "You're a Nomad, so automatically dangerous. You took all those potions Oscar gave you without worrying what mixing them might do. You're being hunted by Spotters. But, even with all that, we took you in, so play nice, right?"

Thomas nodded slowly, afraid, now, of someone he was beginning to think of as a friend.

"Alex, chill," said Eddie, easing the other away from Thomas. "You can't blame him."

"I know," Alex said. "I was only messing. Making a point. Not all things are what they seem."

"True, but you can't blame him for thinking that."

"What should I think?"

Eddie smiled, one that left his eyes looking sad even though it appeared genuine.

"We put them around," he said. "But it's not what people think. What you think."

"What is it? Who's blood is it?"

Both Eddie and Alex laughed at that.

"It's not blood," Eddie said, sniggering. "It's just paint, but it's made to look like blood."

"It's not? Why would you do that?"

"Well, what do you think it is? What's it for?"

"It's a mark to show, like, the area is... owned."

"Owned? Go on."

"Well, a gang owns it. It's their territory."

"And?"

"And if you cross them, you'll be sorry."

"Good."

"Good?"

Eddie nodded.

"Yeah, good. It means it's doing what it's supposed to."

"Well, sort of," interjected Alex.

"Yeah, sort of. That's what we want people to think. A gang is putting bloody claw marks in their territory. But that's not what it really means."

"OK, so what does it mean?"

"You know that doorway you came through? That wasn't really a door?"

"What about it?" Thomas shrugged.

"Those marks. They're really doorways."

Thomas frowned. He didn't understand. He'd seen them on the boards in the loft. On brick walls. They weren't doors. He said as much.

"Not doors," Alex corrected. "Doorways."

"Yeah, a doorway. Nothing physical, unless it needs to be. A way back here for our family," Eddie added.

"How... how does that work?"

"He hasn't met Mand yet," Eddie said to Alex

"No, she's not here. She's out picking up Phoenix."

"Mand is Amanda, but don't call her that. She's our best Wigwam, and she's damn good."

Of course, Thomas thought. It made sense. He'd already seen children able to teleport. Called a Wigwam due to the TP abbreviation of their ability, they could make themselves appear and disappear at will. Their only limitation is that they had to know the places they were moving between.

Unless...

"The marks are for her to go between the places?"

They are indeed. She's good enough to not have been somewhere to go there. She just needs something identifiable."

"The marks."

"You got it. They're her... what does she call it Alex?"

"Anchor."

"Yeah, that's it. They're her anchor, so she can go and bring anyone back here. It keeps her busy."

"Very!"

Thomas nodded. He felt more comfortable. Almost at ease. Regardless of what they needed to do to survive, they seemed to be decent people. And, as Alex had pointed out, they'd taken him in, which could bring the Spotters down upon them all.

"Thanks," he said.

"What for?" Eddie asked.

Thomas didn't answer. He pushed the door openand walked into the room beyond.