Haley is nowhere to be found, but to Susan's relief, their disguises hold up. Then again, flashlights hardly reveal everything—the darkness undoubtedly helps—and they aren't stopped so much as passed by. Between that and the way younger members of the Huntsclan don't seem to question those they see as authority figures, Jake doesn't have any trouble taking her to the dorms.

They only stop long enough for him to point out a little nook that's all but invisible in the darkness. "Remember this," he says, and she hopes she can. Thankfully, it turns out to be close to the dorms, and they arrive a moment later.

Of course, the minute they do, Jake's reason for pointing out the nook becomes clear enough: they won't be sticking together, so they'll need a meetup point that's not out in the open.

"I've got a spare number patch in my room," he says. "I'll wear it upside down. 66's about my build and height; it'll be a better disguise than fishing out a spare number like Rose did. Besides, I can look a few other places for your daughter while you're searching the girls' dorms."

Susan's not thrilled about splitting up, since she thought he'd wait to leave until she knew Haley wasn't here, but she knows they need to cover as much ground as they can while their distraction holds.

She agrees, and Jake is gone almost before she's acknowledged his words.

The dorms are empty, though.

She can't find any sign of Haley.

She tries to be quick but thorough, but it's hard not to linger when some part of her had hoped she'd find evidence that Haley hasn't been captured.

She only waits for Jake in the nook for a few heartbeats before he turns up just as empty-handed as when he'd left (number patch aside, as it's already fixed in place). Susan's almost relieved.

Almost.

"We can check the interrogation rooms and the cells," he says in a voice pitched low enough that it won't carry, "but if she's not there—"

"Do the elders ever speak with prospective initiates privately?" interrupts Susan, even though the idea of it makes her stomach twist for more than one reason.

Jake shakes his head. "Their attention needs to be earned."

"Even if she were discovered?"

"She'd be in the cells. They're built to hold all manner of magical creatures until they're taken for experimentation or to the arena."

"And you're sure she's not with the others?" This whole venture might be foolish, but Susan knows Jake wouldn't have left her alone if he thought she'd run into trouble. That is, if he thought she'd find anyone in the dorms, Haley included. If either of them had been likely to find her, it would have been him.

"As sure as I can be without doing a more thorough search."

As sure as he can be without risking discovery himself, he means.

"I'll take you to the maintenance room—"

"No. We can meet the others at records and surveillance. Haley didn't sneak in. We'll be able to find her that way."

He gives her a flat look which she can easily read as unamused despite the poor light. "One, those aren't the same room, so they're not in the same place, and two, we might be able to get away with lying about who you are to some low-level initiates, but we won't there."

"I'll risk getting caught if it'll give me a chance to save my daughter. If it'll give you a chance to save her so that you can both get away."

"It's not a risk," he hisses back. "It's a certainty. Do you think she'd thank me if that worked and I told her what you'd done?"

"We both know the risks."

"Risks," he scoffs. "Do you think she'd care about the risks?"

"She came here of her own volition," Susan says. "You tell me."

Jake lets out a huff. "Fine. We'll go to records. If 93's not there, I'll check the maintenance room."

The records room—the main one, Susan presumes—is not as busy as Jake had made out that it would be.

In actuality, it's not busy at all. As far as she can tell, there isn't another soul in here.

It might as well be a dusty archives room, except Susan can't smell any dust.

"Is this really—?"

Without letting her finish, he pushes her towards what could have been a library desk. "With the computers out, this is the only place that'll have a paper copy of the record. 93 might've been held up at surveillance, so check the papers on the desk and the filing cabinets behind it first; chances are your daughter hasn't been assigned more than a number if she has been accepted, and if she wasn't, the attempted infiltration should come with the cell block number."

Susan plays the flashlight over the room, taking in the towering shelves of boxes and files. "All your paper records are in here?"

"For this branch." The important ones but not the secretive ones, he must mean; she expects anything too sensitive is kept under lock and key and not simply guarded by the currently-missing sentry in their post as record manager. Still, she catches Jake glancing towards a particular section as if he could see within it despite the dark, and she can't help but wonder if the Huntsclan has hidden some sensitive information in plain sight, assuming no one will think to look for it.

Jake turns back to the desk with renewed focus. He's quick to find a pen and paper and starts to draw her a map. The messy strokes resolve into a recognizable path, but the labelled landmarks are few. He's assuming she won't get lost.

He might be giving her too much credit; Jonathan would be better at finding his way somewhere with a hand-drawn map like this than she will be.

"This is the maintenance room we came in. If I'm not back for you in ten minutes, leave and don't look back."

Ten minutes won't be enough time for her to sift through paper records by herself unless she's lucky and it's near the top—which it hopefully is, if Haley is the newest recruit.

Ten minutes is also far too long for Jake to do nothing more than check the maintenance room and come back.

"All right," she says, and he looks so grateful that she isn't arguing with him that she thinks he might smile.

He doesn't, but she'd like to see that smile some day.

From the promise of it she can see in his eyes, it would be a lovely smile.

It might even be the same as Jonathan's.

She'd like that.

Susan allows herself another couple of heartbeats to collect herself as Jake disappears before she marks the time and gets to work. It's better organized than she'd first thought, and there's a section for new recruits. Haley's name isn't among them—she hadn't thought it would be—but a name Susan recognizes is.

Olivia Mears.

Unless Olivia decided to run away from her family and somehow tripped over a magical creature, crashed into a new initiate, or otherwise gained the attention of the Huntsclan, Haley's become Huntsgirl No. 98.

There's no accompanying note that suggests she's subsequently been dragged off to an interrogation room or a cell block, but there's no note about an assigned room, either. Not that she's sure it would have helped it there had been; she already knows Haley isn't in the dorms.

Susan checks her watch and gives herself two minutes of searching before she admits that she won't find anything more, and she folds the paper up and tucks it into her pocket, keeping it with Jake's map.

Then she turns her flashlight on the filing system behind her, and the next minute finds her walking towards the section Jake had been looking toward earlier.

His record and Rose's should be in here somewhere. From what she can tell, all of those who were born with the Mark of the Huntsclan are documented, and notes are kept on their families. They are lucky Jake and Haley hadn't been discovered for what they are before, lucky that she'd been so careful with her catering business, lucky that the front of the electronics shop had held up—

The lights come back on abruptly, and Susan knows she's running out of time.

She doesn't do more than give the files she grabs a cursory glance to be sure they're the right ones before stuffing them under her shirt and tucking it in to try to keep them in place. She straightens her jacket and checks her watch.

Jake should have been back by now.

He's not, which means she'll need a distraction.

She pulls the nearest box of papers towards her and starts crumpling them. When she has a pile she's sure will catch and spread before burning itself out, she reaches into her jacket pocket and pulls out a matchbook from the supplies she'd picked up with Jonathan. She'll need to keep an eye and ear on the door to be safe, but if she's quick, she should have time to prepare beds for and then start a few fires before leaving. If Arthur (Spud) is successful in destroying their electronic records—and who would have thought Maria's son would be so skilled?—then maybe Susan can make things complicated by destroying some of their paper ones.

Susan heads to the maintenance room with five small but growing fires burning in her wake just as alarms start blaring.

Susan runs into Rose before she even catches a glimpse of Jake.

The girl grabs her by the arm and practically drags her in a different direction, but Susan recovers quickly and is able to match Rose's pace as the girl says, "She's safe."

Susan doesn't need to ask who Rose means, and those quiet words—barely audible above the alarms—loosen the knot of anxiety in her chest. She can't relax completely, not yet, not when she's not sure if Jake's safe, not when they're both still in the middle of the Huntsclan with Rose even if Haley and Jonathan (hopefully and Jonathan) got out, but— But she can breathe a little easier, and she can let Rose lead her, though Susan is fairly confident she hasn't gotten terribly turned around even if she had chosen the wrong turn a hallway or two ago. Rose is still leading her up, but they're climbing too high, passing far more than one set of tinted, reinforced windows.

"Dare I ask?" Susan murmurs when the alarms finally cut off and they seem to be alone. She can still hear the distant hubbub of the chaos they've left behind, but even the more distinct shouts are devoid of intelligible words.

"There's a tape," Rose says in a clipped voice, still keeping to a whisper, "so I'm not about to assume Spud was able to find and wipe the only copy of the evidence."

Evidence.

Of Jake's dragon nature, perhaps? Of his betrayal? Of Rose's?

"And you think I can help you find it?"

"I think I would've seen it in surveillance if it had still been there and that it's too valuable to have been stuffed into records with everything else. I need to check the Huntsmaster's rooms, and I could use someone watching my back."

Part of Susan is genuinely surprised Rose trusts her enough to do that, but perhaps she shouldn't be if she considers that Rose might be doing so on the word of others. Whatever the reason, now isn't the time to question it. "And if we can't find it?"

"Then you get out, I activate the last resort, and we run like demons are chasing us."

Last resort.

Susan isn't sure if she wants to know what the Huntsclan might consider to be a last resort.

She can guess, though.

She doesn't like it.

She especially doesn't like it when Rose's tone makes her wonder if the girl is telling her the whole truth. Susan doesn't doubt that there is some sort of last resort, but…. She doubts the rest of Rose's plan, for as much as it's a plan. She doesn't want to, but she does.

They keep climbing. The files seem to dig deeper into Susan's skin with each step, to the point that she's regretting not trying to transport them in a box. She'd rather deal with the suspicion of that at this point. Regardless, her legs aren't the only things aching before they're finally out of stairs to climb.

Rose listens at the door for a moment before leaning in close and saying, "I think the elders are out, but if any of them aren't— Are you prepared to fight?"

The flimsy pocketknife she has on her isn't her first choice of weapon, even if fists and feet will only get her so far when her opponents are likely to be armed, but she'd been expecting to fight to get Haley out.

She can fight to help Rose retrieve this evidence instead.

"I'll do my best."

Rose nods and pulls a key from her pocket to use on the door. Susan blinks, surprised Rose would have such a privilege, but then again, if she'd been Huntsgirl, perhaps she'd had private lessons with the Huntsmaster—or some of the other elders at this branch.

Or perhaps she'd stolen it.

She'd have to be skilled enough for that, too, to have simply been known as Huntsgirl.

The door opens onto another hallway, and Susan follows Rose's silent path until they reach a door near the end. This time, Rose fishes out lockpicks, and Susan turns back to keep watch while Rose works. It's silent up here compared to the cacophony of below. Maybe they really are alone on this floor.

Rose touches Susan's arm and tilts her head towards the door when Susan looks. It's easy enough to confirm that they're alone once they're inside, and Susan can't even spot a hidden camera at a quick glance. Then again, any Huntsman good enough to claim the title of Huntsmaster would no doubt keep an eye out for cameras or bugs of any sort himself, and she doubts the branch elders officially survey each other, so any surveillance equipment to be found should have been put in place by the Huntsmaster himself. In which case….

Susan stays by the closed door to listen and guard as Rose starts her own methodical search of the room, beginning with the Huntsmaster's desk and quickly moving onto his bookshelves. Susan trusts that Rose's skills as Huntsgirl will have her looking for traps set to catch the unwary tamperer, so she tries to put her own training to use to see if she can spot something she'd missed before. More than one camera is likely, as a failsafe as much as to cover off blind spots, and with a bit of study, she can determine the best places to put one—

But there's nothing.

Rose lets out a hiss. She's kneeling in front of an opened trunk and reaches in to pull out a crystal skull. Even from across the room, Susan can tell that it's real. She can practically feel the magic radiating off of it. "Your daughter was looking for these."

Susan's mouth twists as she closes the distance between them. "I know. Let me take it; if a guardian comes after it, I know how to handle them."

Rose's head cocks to the side. "Guardian?"

"Not like you're thinking. This is a magical creature you don't want to meet if you can avoid it."

Rose frowns. "I gave Haley a bagful already."

A bagful. That will certainly draw attention, even if Rose only found half a dozen of the real skulls among the Huntsclan's collection. They'll need help to disperse them before one of the guardians pays them a visit. Of course, if the Huntsclan has already been collecting the skulls, chances are good they've been hunting the guardians already. If only a few remain….

She'd rather not risk it.

It's far safer to see the skulls separated again before morning's light.

"There are only thirteen of these specific skulls," Susan murmurs as she takes it from Rose. "We'll split up the ones you found as soon as we can. It's not wise to keep them together."

Rose looks at her for a few heartbeats longer before humming a note of acknowledgement and going back to her search. She knows as well as Susan does that they haven't time for further explanations right now.

Susan does a quick search of her own, long enough to locate a sturdy leather satchel with which she can carry both the skull and the files. Once it's filled, fastened, and slung across her body, she resumes her post by the door.

The Huntsmaster, as it turns out, does not always use that door.

Rose's search has taken her into another of the Huntsmaster's rooms, one which adjoins this office space, so she's not there to see the bookcase move forward.

Silently.

On oiled hinges—and wood, likely as not.

The only place to hide is by the desk, for all the good that space will do Susan when the Huntsmaster is liable to go there first, but she would be seen trying to go anywhere else. She clutches the satchel to her side to keep it from knocking on anything and practically dives for cover.

She's too late.

There's barely a rustle of cloth and the near-silent swish of a blade cutting through the air before his halberd (Huntstaff, rather, as they call any variation of their polearms) is at her throat. At this range, he wouldn't need to bother with anything fancy; with one strike, she'd be bleeding all over his expensive carpet.

"Hands up, slowly," he growls, and she complies. "Now, who are you?"

She flicks her eyes to meet his shadowed gaze. "I think you already know the answer to that."

"Humour me."

She doesn't know if he knows her simply as Jake's mother or if he's tied her to the dragons, maybe even tied her to Haley.

She doesn't know what answer he expects.

She moves one hand towards her neck and feels the bite of the Huntstaff through the fabric. "I'm only going to remove my mask," she says, and she's not sure if the sting of her skin is imagined or if her reward for her indecision is a shallow cut a little too clean to be called a scratch. Still, nothing deeper comes as she starts to move her hand again and her fingers curl around the mask. Removing it might be a mistake for other reasons—however well she schools her face, she knows he'll be looking for tells—but it's freeing, somehow.

"See?" she asks softly. "You know who I am."

He inclines his head, but the Huntstaff doesn't waver. "Susan Long."

He might have connected Susan Long to the dragons, but her wounds should be deeper if that were truly the case. Not deadly, not yet, not while she could be used as leverage or as a source for information—but certainly deeper.

Deep enough that he wouldn't have to worry about her running, let alone fighting back.

Deep enough that he could be reasonably confident she couldn't think straight past the pain.

"Yes. I'm the mother of Huntsboy No. 99." She doesn't want to use Jake's name. She doesn't want him to realize Jake had never lost his name, never lost his connection to them. She doesn't want to endanger whoever had made the merciful choice to let him keep it.

She's not entirely certain Jake would ever have listened to her if she hadn't known it.

There's a small huff from the Huntsmaster that she realizes must be amusement. "And Huntsgirl No. 98."

Haley.

He knows about Haley.

Susan knows she's too late to keep the flash of terror from showing on her face, so she doesn't try to deny it, but she's not sure she has a better weapon than silence.

It could be worse. He could be calling Haley the American Dragon and not Huntsgirl No. 98.

"What do you know of the Aztec Skulls, Susan Long?"

He's using her name to rub it in.

He knows she's connected to the magical world.

Does he know how connected she is, that her relationship with it isn't merely tangential? Does he realize how exactly she is connected if he suspects that connection is deeper than it first appears? Or does he think her knowledge begins and ends with the skulls?

"Come now, you must know more than the wildest of stories if you were able to locate one." He moves then, the Huntstaff slicing cleanly through the strap of the satchel, and Susan flinches. She grabs it and tries to shuffle back, but the Huntstaff returns to its position at her throat. She freezes. "I wonder, were you so ruthless as to dispose of my contact permanently or did you assuage your conscience by merely waylaying them?"

She doesn't know what he's talking about.

"It was clever enough either way, I suppose, but I played along despite the switch. You still had what I wanted, after all. You sent your daughter with it. Was it to bargain for your son? All she asked me for was an application."

Susan swallows.

Marty had not told her any of this.

She wonders how much of it Haley even told Marty.

"I made sure it was accepted."

Susan takes a slow breath and glances away. She doesn't quite look at Rose, visible as she now is in the corner of the room, but Rose is holding something she hadn't been before. The tape, Susan hopes. She doesn't know how much Rose's thievery will matter—assuming she gets away with it—if the Huntsmaster knows as much as he does.

With any luck, he's too distrustful to share his revelations with the other elders. Or, maybe, with Jake's apparent desertion, Rose's betrayal, what feels like a city-wide manhunt, and Haley turning up with one of the crystal skulls, he hasn't had time.

"You shouldn't have," she whispers as she looks back at him. In her peripheral, she sees Rose vanish into the other room again, not foolish enough to attack her former master—or perhaps not ready to try, judging by the terror in her eyes that burns into Susan's soul.

Fear for Susan as much as for herself, perhaps, but fear of the Huntsmaster nonetheless.

Someone Rose herself might have called family before all of this.

"Because that would give you the opportunity to sneak inside to try to burn our institution to the ground?"

This time, Susan manages not to flinch at the words. Chances are good he isn't completely certain she set the fires in the records room, even though he would have ample reason to suspect her—especially if he doesn't realize Jake came back with her. He knows she's here for Haley, but if he thinks she only knows where here is because of Haley….

Haley took a risk coming here to get the skulls.

According to Rose, she was mostly successful, but Susan knows she's missing one—and not just the one Marty has.

Maybe, to see the skulls destroyed once and for all, Susan will have to take as wild a risk as her daughter.

"You'll have to tell me all about how you managed it," continues the Huntsmaster when she doesn't speak quickly enough. "Bypassing our wards, cutting the power, destroying digital and physical records— Oh, we'll be having many conversations in the future, I'm sure."

She's not sure if the Huntsmaster—and presumably the other elders—truly believe she's the only one responsible or if he's hoping she'll deny it and give them a hint as to what actually happened.

"I know what capabilities the crystal skulls are rumoured to have," she says carefully. "I hadn't realized you were so close to completing the set."

He hasn't torn the satchel away from her yet, but Susan supposes he thinks he has time enough for that. He's strong enough to do it, certainly, especially when she's on her knees and at a disadvantage. If it came to it, he might underestimate her in a fight, but he wouldn't for very long, and it may not be long enough. She'd have to be quick, but fighting him and fleeing with the skull are two different things. Taking down initiates is one thing, but the Huntsmaster himself….

The Huntstaff brushes her flesh again, and she fears even breathing might break her skin against its sharpened blades.

"And you?" asks the Huntsmaster.

She hadn't intended to taunt him when the barest flick of his wrist would cut her throat, but she's not sure how she can amend her plan now. No revision she can think of would have the desired effect, would bring her to where she wants to be, where she needs to be— "Closer than I was."

The words register, and she can feel the soft hum of magic as the Huntstaff begins to charge.

It is an effort to remain where she is and watch anger darken the Huntsmaster's eyes.

"Did you really think you could steal from me?"

"And get away with it," she finishes, despite evidence to the contrary. That evidence might be the only reason he doesn't kill her for her insolence on the spot. Then again, he's still trying to figure her out and still thinks it's worthwhile spending the time to do that, which is good. She needs him to doubt, needs him to draw back, needs him too distracted to—

"Then perhaps we should pay a visit to your daughter," he says, drawing back the Huntstaff at last.

She allows herself a breath.

She shouldn't have.

With one quick slicing motion of the Huntstaff towards the floor, magic swells into a portal below. Susan catches the briefest glimpse of Rose peeking out from the other room as she falls, the Huntsmaster and the satchel containing the crystal skull with her.