“You already said it,” Liliana replied in her gentle way.

Farooq-Lane swung the sword again. “Accidentally ending the world is still ending the world, though.”

Liliana held the knitting out from her body. It was turning into a sock or a scarf or something long.

“So they have to be stopped no matter what,” Farooq-Lane said. “Well, controlled. We already know the apocalypse has to be generated by these Zeds. There’s no other explanation for why they keep showing up in your visions, even if we can’t tell what they’re doing.”

The Potomac Zeds’ acts of industrial espionage were getting bigger and bigger, although the Moderators had had as much luck intercepting them at this as with anything else. It was difficult to divine the purpose, but there undoubtedly was one. Even in light of this, though, Lock had recently announced they were going to return to their previous method of taking out other Zeds. The Potomac Zeds couldn’t blow up transistors and protect other Zeds, he reasoned. By taking up their old methods, the Moderators could stop one or the other instead of just twiddling their thumbs. Back to business as usual, he said, as soon as the location intel was processed on the next vision.

Business as usual.

“I’m going to quit,” Farooq-Lane said suddenly. She put the sword back in its scabbard, instantly reducing the light of the chilly backyard to just the subtle dazzle of the twinkle lights strung through the pergola. “I’m going to quit the Moderators.”

Liliana’s knitting needles clicked faintly as she did another row.

Farooq-Lane’s heart was thudding in her ears and her hands felt ice-cold. “Aren’t you going to say anything?”

It had been a little over a year since Nathan had killed their parents. Since she found out her brother was a serial killer. Since she found out he was a Zed. Since she found out the end of the world was coming. Since she had helped kill Zed after Zed while the fire got closer and closer. She’d lost most of her life with the murders and given the rest of it away to join the Moderators. Without them, she’d have to devise an entirely new future for herself, whole cloth.

“Liliana,” Farooq-Lane said. “Anything at all?”

Neatly folding her scarf-sock thing and setting it on the chair, Liliana stood. She walked to Farooq-Lane, took the scabbard from her hand, and leaned it against the pergola support. The twinkle lights made a galaxy of night stars in her eyes as she stepped close.

Then she gently brushed Farooq-Lane’s hair with the palm of her hand, and she kissed her.

Farooq-Lane closed her eyes. She put her hands where the knot of the blue fabric was coming loose. The skin there was very soft.

When the kiss was done, Liliana said, “What are you going to do instead? I will come with you, of course.”