I surveyed the battlefield, where Lord of Loss was near the center, standing tall again, not any worse for wear. The ground was room temperature with stale air, the air above cold, and the two combined to make something that was the worst of both worlds, reeking of blood and bile. Tentacles, tongues, and skin-straightjacket women were standing out from the ruined landscape, others were moving beneath the cracked floorboards to the point that those floorboards bulged or oozed with meat. The stuffed animal that was losing its fight against the meat.

“I think I get how your power is really supposed to work,” I said.

“Mine?” Rain asked.

“Who else?” I asked. “Listen carefully, because whether I’m right or wrong, this is going to suck.”

Blinding 11.8

“If you’re right then I’m a big fucking idiot,” Precipice said. “That’s supposed to be a pick-me-up? Good news?”

“No,” I said. I was going to follow up, but I didn’t get a chance.

“That’s not right at all! You have to look on the bright side!” Candy said, with enthusiasm, her eyes flitting this way and that as she took in the extended constructions of flesh that ringed the area. There was an edge to her voice that betrayed her alarm at the situation. “If she’s right, you’re a secret genius.”

“I wouldn’t go that far,” Precipice said.

“Very very secret,” Aroa muttered. “The kind of secret that people might notice in a hundred years, if they cared enough to study you. Which they don’t.”

“Closer,” Precipice said.

I shook my head, focusing more on the battlefield than anything. Lord of Loss was pulling himself together, his thugs gathered around him. Nursery had her own backup, but she wasn’t doing so well with them or at all. Half my reason for hanging back in the now was to see if any cracks formed that we could exploit, there.

Then again, we had to keep the cracks from forming on our side too. Foil was focused on Parian, the kids were scared. Precipice was about as unsure of himself as any teenage boy would be, dealing with mercenaries hired by the woman who wanted to kill him, after having spent the latter part of the evening having his head screwed with by an attractive girl. I tried to reach out, “Precipice, if you’re agreeing with Aroa, the girl who said she laughs when old people get hurt—”

“Babies or old people, really,” Candy supplied. Aroa pointed a finger at her cousin without looking at her, nodding.

“—then you might be being a little hard on yourself,” I said.

“I’m an expert at being hard on myself,” Precipice said. “It’s either that, or I’m the biggest asshole alive, and I’d rather hate myself than be an asshole.”

Well, not a lot I could say to that.