He grabs a few chips. Pops them between his finger. They break apart, cakey and light. He gives her some. Then rubs some on his own temples. She sees the drug take hold in him. His head tilts. His vertebrae crack from butt-bone to base-of-skull like one long string of knuckles. He sucks in a pleasurable breath.

She rubs it on her temples, too.

And nothing happens. No sinking into a warm pool. No kick in her tail.

Nothing.

She decides not to say anything. Not now. Not here.

“I know this vein,” he says. “My Moles were working it. We’re near the Canal Street station. Come on. This way. We can get into the Sandhog tunnels using one of the old boltholes that Davey and I carved years ago.”

Nora hurries after. The Blue still hasn’t kicked in.

That worries her.

It’s not a plunger, Candlefly discovers. It’s a big red button in a box ringed with ruggedized rubber. He’s disappointed, honestly. He’d like a plunger. Like in the movies: stand before it, hands on the plunger – press it down and boom.

A small fleck of dirt in the eye of a truly lovely day.

Near him, Vithra suddenly shudders.

“Cold?” he asks.

“Something has changed,” he says.

“Oh?”

Vithra falls silent. Candlefly shrugs. Always such drama from the gods.

As they wind through the tunnels, Mookie grins at his daughter. He knows that in the eerie glow of his makeshift light source, he may look manic and mad, but he can’t help it.

“I like this,” he says.

“What?” Nora asks.

“You. Me. Working together. Father and daughter.”

“Yeah, it’s… great.”

“I just mean–”

“This isn’t how I imagined it,” she says.

“How’d you figure it?”

She says nothing.

He fills the silence, says, “I never imagined it at all.”

“I know.” She gives him a look. It isn’t a nice one. “That’s the problem. Isn’t it? You never imagined us as much of anything. You had your work. Then you had those… people out in Staten Island. Some brat named Nora. Some nag named Jess.”

“It wasn’t like that.”

“It was and you know it.”

He stares at the ground. “I always thought about you guys. I always tried to be there. I just…” Mookie’s not good with words. Especially not now: all the pain, the fatigue, everything, it’s drawn him out, hammered him thin. “I never wanted my life to get near yours. My life is all…” He sighs, gestures around him. “It’s this. It’s the ugly dark. It’s goblins and addicts, dead men and snake venom. It’s just… trash and horror and blood. I never wanted that for you.”

“Well, it found me.”

“I know. And I’m sorry.”

She stops. He continues for a few steps, looks back.