I was so ready to go. It struck me only now that we’d been sitting in the booth and nobody had come to take our orders. Maybe we’d scared them off with the latent hostility and argument.

“Let’s go meet the others,” Sveta said.

The others. Oh. I turned back toward my mom, and put my bag down. “Can I ask about Natalie?”

My mom smiled, and she acted like we hadn’t just had a heated exchange of words. “She’s well. Healing from that chest wound while spending some time away with a friend.”

“When is she back?” Sveta asked.

“She said she would be gone for two days, and she told me that yesterday. She would have emailed you.”

“She probably did, but it would have been lost in the tide of feedback and questions we’re getting.”

“I remember those moments. Use them. People ask and approach because they’re interested. You want that interest.”

“Not today,” I said. “Today is the day we consolidate.”

“Is today a special event?” my dad asked.

“Only that it’s been too long since we’ve done it,” I said. “And we really fucking need it.”

“Damn straight,” Sveta said.

“Can I give you something to pass on to Natalie?” I asked my mom.

“Of course.”

I put my bag down and fished inside. “A bit of a thank-you for looking after Lookout and an apology for her having to put up with us while we were mind controlled. She did well.”

“I have an eye for exceptional people, Victoria,” my mom said.

“You do.”

I handed over the package, gift wrapped as best as I’d been able with the supplies I’d had.

“Stay in touch?” my dad asked.

I drew in a deep breath, then exhaled, looking at my mom, who still sat with her arm out, her other hand resting on the tidy little package.

“I can’t keep doing this,” I said. “Sticking my hand into the fire and getting burned.”

“We’ll talk, okay? You and me?” my dad asked.

I shrugged. My mom looked annoyed at that offer from my dad.

Irreconcilable differences, really. There wasn’t a good way to handle this.

“You know where I am,” he said.

We said our muted goodbyes. The door of the diner closed behind Sveta and I, and we stepped into the cold. My breath fogged. Sveta’s didn’t.

“The good news is that my dad extended an invite to Christmas, if you want company.”

“Ha ha.”

“Come on,” I told her. “Let’s go find our teammates.”

The snow was whipping around us as we returned to the main street. I could see a guy across the road, smoking a cigarette while he leaned against a store window. He watched the snow not with wonder, but the opposite—a lack of light in his eyes.