Charlie was waiting on the roof, wrapped in her quilt and drinking a coffee when Jack arrived just after sunrise. She was like his own personal beacon, there to guide him home. When he saw her, he knew everything was going to be fine. And frustrating. He’d begun to find frustration comforting. Fuck his life. Eyes locked on her face, he changed, and sagged against the stairwell. “I’d have called if the aunties could make a phone that doesn’t melt in dragon fire. I thought you might’ve Walked to me after you were done.”

“I wasn’t sure what would happen if you were flying.”

He thought about Charlie appearing beside him and realized that at the speed he’d been maintaining, she’d have hit the ground before he got turned around. If he even noticed she was there at all. Too tired to smoke when he yawned, he muttered, “Good call. Siren’s silenced.”

“And the Hunt’s home.” She grinned at him over the edge of her mug. “Not even going to try with the chupacabras. Graham took them out and he made a friend.” Then the grin disappeared, and Jack spent a moment worried Graham had gotten hurt before he realized that Graham hurt would mean Allie reacting would mean he’d be hearing a lot more emergency vehicles out on the streets. “I should feel like I got something accomplished last night,” Charlie continued, dropping a troubled gaze down into her mug. “But if we’re all going to die anyway, last night was nothing more than spitting into the wind. Tugging Superman’s cape. Taking the mask . . .”

“Yeah, you and Jim Croce have made your point. But we’re not all going to die.” Pretty sure he’d face-plant if he moved away from the supporting wall, he put everything he had left into his voice. “We’ll stop it.”

“You don’t know . . .”

“I know us. We stopped an old god, and it had intent. Like you said, this is nothing more than a big rock.”

“That’s what I said, didn’t I.” A deep breath later, she met his eyes and nodded. “Go us. You look like tired personified.”

“You should see it from this side.” It was too much effort to roll his shoulders and work the growing knots out of his back. Way too much effort to remind his body that his skin shape didn’t have flight muscles. “Why don’t you look tired?”

She made a grab for the quilt as she stood. “Musician. I’m used to going to bed at dawn. Also, I bleed caffeine. Come on, let’s get you to bed before the traffic chopper flies over and we get another note about public nudity.”

“I thought Auntie Carmen dealt with that,” he said allowing Charlie to take his arm and support part of his weight.

“She did. Allie says next time she’s sending Auntie Bea.”

“Mean.”