“Give it to Rain. Let him look. I’ll fiddle.”

“You have forty-five seconds,” I said.

“Got it!”

Swansong lifted her up onto the truck bed.

I turned to Byron. “You guys good?”

“We ducked into a store. My brother swapped out for me, Swansong and Lookout switched looks, since they’re wearing the disguise pendants. Nailbiter passed right by us. Trick was getting out without looking suspicious.”

“Good,” I said.

“Tristan’s idea,” he said. “Electricity tinker?”

“Something like that.”

“Lookout!” Rain said. “Found the pages. Here’s targeting.”

She reached down as he reached up, passing her the book.

A glowing screen illuminated the pane of her helmet as she leaned over it.

“We’re good!” she declared. “But this isn’t our last stop.”

“We can’t dawdle,” Swansong said.

“Remember what I said about guns?” Lookout asked.

“Guns?” I asked.

“Come on!”

We hurried in the direction she’d pointed.

“I think I got a read on what they were saying,” Lookout said. “On the surface, this was a weapons deal. They’re providing Love Lost’s group with guns and other weapons. She’s supposed to help them when they demand it. Any target they name. If Love Lost wins, then it’s good. If she loses, then it’s another cape out of the picture. Right?”

“Makes some sense,” I said. “I’d have a hard time believing that’s the full picture.”

“They were getting pissy because she was saying some targets were off limits. Well, she wasn’t saying much of anything.”

“Colt was,” Ashley said.

“Yeah,” Lookout said. She huffed for breath. She wasn’t out of shape, but she wasn’t a runner either, and we were far enough out at the edges of the parking lot that the lot hadn’t been fully cleared of snow or debris. Just a little more effort for those putting boot to muck, especially when she had shorter legs.

Sveta, at least, seemed to be doing okay. She was still holding the two folded bits of metal.

I checked to see if the coast was clear, and I saw Love Lost. She stood on the hood of a car, back straight, hair and coat moving in the wind. Not chasing, not using her power. Just staring.

No Nailbiter at her side. Her tinker was a little worse for wear, and her reinforcements hadn’t yet arrived.

“Here! These sedans,” Lookout said.

A person stepped out from between the cars, hand at his waist, reaching for a gun.

He saw the size of our group, and he raised both his hands instead of drawing his weapon.

“You’re with them?” I asked.

“Fuck you,” he said.

He’s with them.

Byron took the guy by the shoulder, leading him to the side, where he was made to kneel on the frozen ground, hands at his side. Byron divested the guy of his weapons. A knife and a gun.