“My partner killed your friend,” Tilly said, appealing to Kai, who seemed to be the most worked up. “I’ve never killed anyone who wasn’t trying to kill me.”

Zed finally spoke up. “What a great standard,” she scoffed.

“Yeah, it’s kept me alive and stopped me from shooting innocents, unlike my partner.”

“You are your partner,” Apollo muttered.

“My partner’s dead, and you would be too if I hadn’t saved your smug ass. Those holes in your arm would have been in your chest when he was done with you. And your smart-ass mouth.”

“If you wanted to save me, you would have killed yourself.”

Tilly didn’t respond. She wasn’t paid enough to tolerate snark from teenagers, especially sociopathic nihilist teenagers who trolled her with lies about leveling their hometowns. He’d probably just put on a light show. Houndum hadn’t even called her to yell. The kid was definitely lying. He’d just been given the address of Sol’s parents. She’d caught them midway. There was no way he’d struck all these places while his friends and Rick were watching. Something was amiss.

A city erupting into chaos couldn’t be this quiet, she felt. Irritated, she fished through her pockets for plastic zip ties, tossing a few pairs over Rick’s dead body. They landed at Kai’s feet.

“Put those on,” she commanded, opening her blazer to flash her gun. Kai and Zed obliged immediately.

“I’m not leaving here in handcuffs,” Sol said coolly.

“Stretchers are also available, as well as body bags,” Tilly sneered, grabbing her gun and using it to wave at the remaining cuffs. Sol finally obliged, turning to help Apollo shackle himself before cuffing herself.

Tilly led them out of the room in single file, stopping to retrieve Rick’s gun and gesturing for the teens to pass. The gun was still hot.

Bringing up the rear, Tilly directed them to the stairwell, walking carefully as they descended in silence. Tilly winced with every step, cupping her ear and hoping its missing fragment could be salvaged by CSI. Midway down the final flight, a tremor rocked the building, sending Tilly face-first into the banister, followed by a sharp tumble down the stairway. Headfirst, she landed at the bottom of the steps, her body lying limp as she drifted into unconsciousness, blackness moving across the edges of her vision like a flame on a fuse.

chapter 19

Hotlanta was finally an appropriate name, Apollo thought, swinging his dangling feet over a charred Honda Civic that he’d repurposed as a throne. The street was empty, devoid of traffic and life. Apollo sat calmly as giant flames snaked around buildings, producing spires of smoke that choked the sky, Towers of Babel spreading the new universal language of rebirth and revolution.

He’d really burned it all down. All the bullshit. All the corporatism. All the opportunism. All the wires and wiretaps. Welcome to Atlanta.