“Man, you brought kids to this thing?” the one Emily assumed was the leader asked.

“If we’re all civilized and act with decorum, then there’s no harm in that, right?” Handshake asked.

“I’m not going to kick a kid’s teeth in,” the leader said. “But still, man, just not cool, you know? What if I wasn’t such a Paragon?” He waved his knife around in a circle. “Could do some nasty things to them. Powers or no.”

“Perhaps,” Handshake said. “I presume that none of you are Cement?”

“Nah,” the leader said. “The boss thought it’d be wiser not to show up in person. That’s what he’s here for.” He gestured to the one still on the ground with his knife.

“Yeah, yeah, nearly done,” the man said. He stood up, a wire in hand, then plugged it into the laptop’s side. “Let me just log in and all that.”

A minute passed in awkward silence, with only the shuffling of the guy listening to music to fill the void and the occasional machine-gun clack of the laptop’s keys. Then the computer was turned around and pointed in their direction.

The screen had a large “S” on it, white over a black background. The light next to the webcam was on, blinking a steady red.

“Greetings,” a deep baritone said from the machine. “Handshake . . . the Boss, and if I’m not mistaken, Ursa Minor. I’m unfamiliar with your other companion.”

“You can stay that way,” Athena said.

“How very feisty,” the man said. “Well then, I do believe we’re all here for business—perhaps we should get to it?”

“Indeed,” Handshake agreed. “Are your own companions trustworthy enough to discuss these things?”

“You can speak freely,” Cement said.

“Brilliant. Now then, as per our previous agreement, I’m here in the flesh, meeting with you and some of your representatives. Are you ready to begin?”

The laptop was silent for a moment. “Yes, I think I am. Let’s try and see if the two of us together can uncover a little bit about the Cabal, and if we can see about freeing Homie from his cell.”

CHAPTER FIFTY-SEVEN

Inattention

Do you want to begin?” Cement asked.

Emily shifted her weight from foot to foot, but she did so slowly. The last thing she wanted was for people to stare at her, especially not the three punks across the room. They were exactly the sort of people her mother had warned her about. Bad boys who no doubt tried to use their charms to turn proper young women into too-young single mothers.

Or something like that. Her mother’s warnings had always been a little disjointed.

In fact, Emily imagined her mother would be pretty . . . emotional about Emily essentially having two kids of her own.

She shook her head, set all those thoughts aside, then refocused.