He dropped the knife, and Natalie hurried to pick it up. He kicked Kenzie, one hand gripping his wound, and Natalie, still rising to a standing position, hurled herself into him. She was smaller, but she caught him off guard—there was a chance that he could have resisted her or pushed back, but she had the knife, and she could see his eyes widen as he realized it. He let himself be driven back, to where he tumbled down the stairs, stopping as he collided with Colt, who was just around the bend in the stairs, positioned to brace herself.

“You don’t want this,” Natalie said, to Colt.

“They’re up here!” Colt hollered.

Natalie hopped down to the stair that was broader because it turned the corner, and kicked Colt. It helped the guy fall down a few extra stairs.

She thought about taking one hostage, just to buy time for help to arrive, if it was even on the way. Time—time for Kenzie to build something. Was that even possible?

Then she saw the man at the base of the stairs, wearing a shattered porcelain mask. She could see it in his eyes. He didn’t care.

He moved his hand, and there was a lawn dart in it.

It hit the wall behind her as she hurried back upstairs.

Buy time, bide time.

Into the parent’s bedroom. She shut the door, then worked to move the dresser into the way of the door. She sat with her back to the dresser.

Thuds hit the door, at varying intensities. Something hit it hard enough to splinter wood above.

“You’re bleeding.”

Natalie grit her teeth. Something hit the door with an impact that made the dresser move, Natalie’s head flying forward as the third object moving in the chain of conserved energy, then naturally moving back to crack against the wood.

“Can’t do much about it right now. Did you call help?”

“I gave it a try. And I did the projector thing, and glanced at the cameras. It was four people, two capes. Hookline’s got Tony.”

“Kid!” Kitchen Sink raised his voice.

“Hi!”

“I’ve got a burning plank in my hand right now. I’d say you have until it gets too hot for me to hold before it becomes your problem.”

“Um! We moved furniture, and my friend is bleeding enough she might be too weak to move it away.”

“Fine.”

There was a sound of wood clattering.

Natalie frowned.

“You’re not bleeding that badly,” Kenzie said. “Come on. Window.”

Natalie started to stand, and then fell, more out of the surprise of how difficult it was than out of the actual difficulty. She was actually weaker.

And it was actually a good amount of blood, now that she could see what she’d deposited on the floor in the short time since sitting. In the unlit room, it looked black on a gray floor.