“He wanted to delay us,” Precipice said. “He succeeded.”

An utter fucking disaster, I thought.

I paused.

“You can turn your power off,” I told Rain.

He did.

That could have been better, I thought. But at least we got him.

I almost didn’t want to check. I brought up the disc, and found it out of position, pushed to one side. A click unfolded it, a tap at the rim once it was unfolded brought it to life.

“Are they okay?” Foil asked.

I clicked through, my heart sinking.

“No,” I said.

Interlude 11.b

Two Hours Ago

Colt winced as Love Lost threw a gun at Nailbiter with no apparent intent to make it a gentle or careful throw. It wasn’t because of anger, but because she trusted Nailbiter to handle it. Nailbiter extended a finger to thread the trigger-guard, before using an overlong finger to slap the gun into her waiting left hand.

Nailbiter seemed to consider for a moment, dark eyes catching all of the lights as she looked down at the lump of metal. She gripped it by the barrel and held it out toward Nursery.

“Oh no,” Nursery said. “I don’t believe in guns. I have to be a good example, you know.”

Lord of Loss chuckled.

They were gathered outdoors, with members of the gang coming and going. Some weapons, some food, multiple cars being loaded up, gassed up with plastic jugs. Breath fogged in the air, except for those who didn’t apparently breathe. Lord of Loss was one.

Colt, Love Lost, and Nailbiter were standing near the door, with Nailbiter taking things as they were handed to her, or pointing when someone held something up for her, designating a vehicle. Lord of Loss, Spruce, Nursery, and Unbound were standing off to one side, the latter three wearing their winterized costumes.

The rest of the group was already by one vehicle. The powered didn’t have to carry or haul. Colt wasn’t being asked to carry or haul, but that wasn’t a good thing.

“Keep the peace at the Lyme Center,” Nailbiter addressed the mercenaries. Colt barely noticed the whistling ‘s’ sounds anymore. “One or two of you can wait there. It won’t need attention unless someone gets stupid. Picks a fight, gets drunk, doesn’t matter.”

“What kind of response do you want?” Lord of Loss asked.

Love Lost paused, meeting Nailbiter’s eyes.

Nailbiter supplied the answer. “Dramatic, but not dramatically violent. These people are ours. If you act and use powers, mention our names.”

“Then we’ll put Spruce there. He’s used to keeping order,” Lord of Loss said.

“And he’s bounding back from the flu, poor dear,” Nursery said. “It’s good if he’s somewhere warm.”