“I did make it myself,” the lace girl said. “Most of it. Thank you for liking it. I’m Chantilly.”

“Swansong.”

Chantilly smiled slightly.

Whippersnap shielded her with his body, as if we had guns and she was in danger. He looked at Chicken. “Come on. You should go downstairs. You’re a target too. Tilly, let’s go.”

I saw Lookout start to take a step forward, then stop herself, rocking back on her heels. I put a hand on her shoulder.

“Hold on,” Swansong said.

The trio stopped.

“Do any of you want to share emails, phones? So you can see about the meeting on neutral ground?”

Chantilly shook her head, quickly.

“I will,” Chicken Little said.

I could see Whippersnap’s active impatience, as Chicken Little wrote down a number or email on Lookout’s scratch pad.

As soon as he was done, he was ushered away along with Chantilly, Whippersnap continuing to be protective, shielding the lace girl from us as if from a physical danger.

“I know your rules say you can’t ask or push contact on people,” Swansong said.

Lookout nodded. “I wanted to so badly.”

“It’s good you made a friend. That looked like a good conversation.”

“I didn’t talk too much? Or say anything weird?”

“Nah,” Tristan said, from the side. He looked at me. “We should go.”

I nodded. “Things to do.”

The snow continued to fall, done its frenzied dance higher above, where our proximity to various portals and the weather they stirred up made the snow travel in wild courses.

“How do you feel about going after your friends?” Tristan asked.

“Friends?” Rain asked.

“Swansong, going after the members of Love Lost. If that’s what we end up doing.”

“It’ll be nice to see them again. Nicer to show them what I’m made of.”

“That simple, huh?”

“Not simple, but I like where I am.”

“I like where you are too,” Lookout said. “And I like that Chantilly liked you too. The white dress comes with its upsides, huh?”

The conversation continued. Tristan asking Lookout if she had a map, so we could find her family’s van. She had a tracking chip inside it. Because of course.

Tristan swapped out for Byron, because Rain had asked a question, and I heard my name, a ‘Vicky’ tossed into it—a question aimed at Byron. On answering, Byron swapped out, and Tristan said something about how quick that had been.

My focus was more on Sveta, who was staring off down a side street.

“Sveta,” Tristan said.

“Hm?”

“What do you think? Love Lost?”

“We can. We’ve fought a lot of them before.”

“Tonight, you think? Or do we plan more?”

“I’m fine with whatever. Weld gets back super late. Crystal too?”

I nodded.

“It would be nice to tell him we scored a big win.”

“Tonight then,” Tristan said.

“Okay,” Sveta said. She looked off to the side again.