LESS THAN A WEEK LATER, Iggy was working his magic in the kitchen, with real groceries that we’d bought from a real grocery store. He came out, a chef’s hat on his head, big oven mitts on his hands. “Come sit down,” he ordered. “Dinner’s ready.”

Gazzy raced to the table. “Lasagna! Excellent!”

I stood at an open window, looking out over the bloodred canyon, turned to flame by a glorious sunset. We were home. Colorado, that is, where we had lived, post–dog-crate but pre-world-saving-mission. We had a new house there, near where we had lived before. The CSM had built it as a big thank-you for our help in Antarctica and Hawaii.

I had missed these mountains, these gorges. Jeb had brought us here, about five years ago, after he’d kidnapped us to protect us from the mad scientists at the School. Now I was hoping Dr. Gunther-Hagen never found us here. That would have been a little too familiar.

A small black head nudged my leg, and I looked down to see Total smiling up at me. I dropped down to my knees and hugged the furry, Scottie-like body close. “You had a good visit with my mom?”

“Super,” he said. Yes, Total can talk — another advantage to being genetically engineered, if you’re a dog. “I helped out in her office. And Akila loved it.”

My mom is a veterinarian, when she’s not trying to solve global problems through the CSM. And Akila is Total’s … girlfriend. She’s a (non-English-speaking) malamute that we met on our first mission. They’re a match made in a carnival sideshow, but they seem happy. “Yeah? What’d you do?”

Total puffed himself up. “Counseled patients,” he said importantly. “It helps that I speak their language.”

“I bet. Let’s go — before Gazzy eats that whole lasagna. I’m starving.” Total’s small black nose twitched, and we both trotted to the kitchen, where yummy smells wafted toward us.

Fang sat down next to me at the table and quietly linked his ankle around mine. Total hopped up onto a chair between Fang and Nudge.

I dug in to the lasagna, which smelled like heaven, if heaven were hot and cheesy and layered with noodles and red sauce. And maybe it is.

I looked around at my family, the six of us, Total, and now Akila, all sharing a meal together. We were here, far from everyone else. Far from anyone who could hurt Fang. Far from Dylan and Dr. Gummy-Häagen-Dazs. I felt almost like weeping with joy.

I knew it wouldn’t last. It never does.