I followed their line of sight as they both turned back to look at someone. Seir in his civilian clothes, mask off. The man was of a similar type to Coalbelcher, but without the long stubble on his face sticking in every direction. His hair was longer with some gray already in it, the circles under his eyes were black for reasons other than the coal-spit facepaint. The tattoos gave him away.

“Seir,” I observed.

“He’s not a fan of us,” Byron said. “We’re all on the same side, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t want to get back at us.”

“At me,” Rain said. “I don’t think it’s an immediate problem, but if we have any choice in where we go, we should go wherever he isn’t.”

“Agreed,” I said, as I looked over at Lookout and Monokeros. They were with another group, Lookout hanging a half-step back while Monokeros talked with some scary-looking women. Monokeros was currently listening, as another woman did all of the talking. The talker was pretty where her skin was intact, but had what looked scars from a bad burn extending all the way down her neck. Another woman stood beside her, top already removed, torn up into shreds, and the shreds plaited into a cord. The cord was being knotted into a hangman’s noose.

The other two had noticed I was looking.

“What about her?” I asked. “Why did you not want me to approach Lookout?”

“Lookout came on a little strong with the Lady in Blue,” Rain said. “It made her suspicious. She’s suspicious of you too, you know, but she knows she can beat you.”

“Yeah,” I said. “Monokeros though?”

“If you’ve got a canary you’re worried about and a cat that’s restless, and you’re really good at managing your animals, which we know she is, maybe you give the canary a cat babysitter,” Rain suggested.

“That doesn’t make me feel better,” I said.

“It doesn’t make us feel that much better,” Rain said. “But we can trust that the Lady in Blue knows what she’s doing, we know from what Swansong says that Monokeros is really messed up and touchy, and we don’t disturb that scene while it’s peaceful.”

I frowned. Monokeros was smiling now. I was creeped out by something in how she presented herself, but I couldn’t tell if it was because of something ugly in her peeking out, the contrast in her charmer attitude with the tattoos like the triangle at her forehead, making me think of—of certain individuals, or if it was because I knew that she’d gone full ritual killer, killing heroes, kids. Hopeful young Vistas, Shielders, and Finales. Kids who had faced the worst days of their lives and came out the other end wanting to help people.

“She was corporate, like Tristan and me,” Byron said. “Goldenrod.”

“Yeah,” I acknowledged.