“Long-term strategy, my ass!” Doyle’s long arms windmilled in the lamplight. He scooped up the papers Empire had offered and tore them to shreds. “More like fucking cowardice!”

Will snatched at the bits. “It’s morons like you bringing the world down on top of us!”

Then he was up, too, and the Tommy muscle was standing, and Doyle had flung back his chair so it bounced and clattered across the painted concrete. Next, we were all out of our seats, unsure whether to run or pitch in. So fast no one saw it happen, Spunk’s hunting knife glittered at the throat of one Tommy lad while the other gaped and feinted. R.J. ducked between Doyle and Empire Will, arms out stiff like a sports referee.

“You have to stop! Please, stop this now!”

The voices were high and anguished. Everyone stilled. The Gimme Shelter girls had finally taken in what had happened to the Macys.

“We need to leave! Our den . . . !”

“Oh no!” Maxine gasped.

Rousseau said, “With us all here, they’re totally unprotected!”

Women and babies. Perfect Adder targets.

“All our dens!” Doyle dropped his battle stance. Will backed away. Spunk let his Tommy go, clapped him on the shoulder, and sheathed his knife. I was prouder of denfolk than I’d been a mere moment before.

Mitsuko gripped Doyle’s arm. “C’mon. We’ll take them.”

Doyle signaled his escort. “Get the boat.”

“Take a squad of mine with you,” Maxine offered.

Will had a phone out and was talking into it. “Our patrols will circle around your way,” he told the girls.

“I’ll head out, too,” Zuleika told Rousseau. “Your folks have the kids in hand.”

“Watch yourself going crosstown,” he advised.

“Always.” She stretched up to kiss his cheek. “Thanks for all you do.”

Mitsuko hurried off with the girls. Doyle and Maxine followed, trading vengeance scenarios. Irv and the older Smith watched her go, sharing an uneasy frown.

Deflated, I went back to my bench and lay flat on my back. Time for a retreat to my bunk. I needed sleep like a drug. But I was too wired, sure that if I left the room, some new disaster would blow up. The Adders would be upon us. Or Bright. And no one had even mentioned the newly unified Storm Worshippers. The dens were in danger for our lives, and still no one could agree. Or would. For the first time in a while, I tasted real despair. Had the whole caucus been for nothing?

The Empires were last at the table, packing up.

Rousseau touched Will’s sleeve. “Please. Stay a moment? Just till we know better what’s happened.”

“We’re concerned about . . .” R.J. gestured vaguely uptown.

“Of course. But we still need a plan.” He spread his palms. “Just . . . something.”

Will looked to Katja.

“We do,” she conceded. “At least a short-term one.”