That’s my cue. Candace dove toward a low building, pushing her speed and pulling up to a stop just before slamming into the roof. She lowered herself to stand, then hurried to pull out a backpack hidden in a nearby vent. A quick outfit change, and she stood in the suit she and Ari had come up with together last year. Black with gray accents, formfitting, made from a wet suit and other materials. It was completed with combat boots and a hood with white patches for the eyes and a shock of white “hair” at the crown. Her mouth was the only visible part of her face, concealing her identity. Ari was half of the genius behind the design. Turns out there were benefits to being students at one of the country’s fanciest tech schools.

Shoving her phone into a zipper pocket on her thigh, Candace took off once more, pushing into the air. She shot toward the square, the lights of the city dancing below. The distant flash of red and blue and the boom of a voice over a loudspeaker were like a beacon in the night, calling out the coming troubles.

There was a sudden rise in shouting and the blast of gas canisters being fired. A hazy gray billow rose into the air, followed by panicked and pained screams.

Candace drew in a deep breath and went into a dive. She hit the ground in a crouch, the wind rushing outward. Surprised shouts went up from the advancing officers, followed by orders to get on the ground. She ignored them, throwing her arms out as she began to spin. Faster and faster she went, the roar of the wind loud in her ears. The material of her costume protected her from the worst of the effects, and soon the cloud began to rise. So did she, still spinning, aiming it up and away, to be carried off and diluted by the slipstream.

Somewhat dizzy and a little achy, she slowed, panting as she finally took a breath.

“It’s her!” someone shouted from below.

“Freefall!” another person cried.

A smattering of cheers rose around her.

“You, in . . . in the air,” someone on a loudspeaker started. They didn’t sound at all confident. “Come . . . come down? Come down with your hands up!”

Candace couldn’t help but snicker when what sounded like a small scuffle broke out as someone fought to take over. She turned to go just as there was a screech and a different voice rumbled.

“Descend or we will open fire.”

She froze. She knew that voice. Whirling, she stared down at the gathering of officers, her gaze homing in on the one with the megaphone. She knew those green eyes; she stared into them often. Those were Ari’s eyes. Or, at least where she’d gotten them.

Mr. White stood amidst the cops, his jaw set, his expression thunderous.