Parian roused a bit, nudged her. Foil bent down as much as she could without wrapping her stomach and chest around Parian’s head, in her lap.

“Don’t back down,” Foil said.

I fidgeted.

My phone buzzed in my hand. My thumb was already ready to hit the button.

“Henchman here,” a young voice said. “Acting as secretary—don’t nudge me. I am.”

There was a pause.

“Secretary doesn’t sound weird. What sounds weird is you interrupting me when I’m expediting. Passing you to Rachel, Antares. Good luck.”

I cleared my throat.

“What?” was the answer on the other end, like someone had been called at three in the morning, letting the phone ring ten times before the caller gave up, only for them to start again.

A sweetheart, Vista had said.

“You called me,” I said.

“I was supposed to go help Imp. She got shot before I could get there, the rest of them caged. Tattletale said to come to her, so I tried, and that went to shit.”

“Something happened?” I asked.

“It went to shit. You’ve got my guys with you. We’ll meet. Drive-thru at Hot Pepper’s.”

“See you there, then. We have to drop off Parian first.”

“Yeah,” she said. She hung up.

She apparently didn’t want a timeframe.

In the backseat, Foil was twisting around. The two benches faced each other, in true PRT- or SWAT-van style, and Chastity had moved to the other bench. She and Foil were doing their best to extricate Foil from quivers and holsters without making Parian have to lift her head up, passing things across to Precipice.

After they were done with Foil, they took off the most ostentatious and ‘cape’ stuff of Parian’s.

When we pulled up to the clinic, a one-story affair with a plastic sign illuminated from behind above the door, people were waiting outside. Foil, in civilian clothes, helped Parian out. Parian was a petite middle-Eastern or Indian girl, which I hadn’t expected.

It looked like it would take a while to sort out, so I hopped out and flew across the street to the gas station. I stopped by the bathroom first, to wash my face. I pulled my phone out as I bought the little thing of medicine and some odor annihilators. Supplied by another world. I hoped there weren’t traces of cyanide or formaldehyde in it.

“Hey little V,” I croaked, as she picked up.

“How’d it go?”

“Reasonably, I guess. The sweetheart thing is pretty hard to see. It’s not that I don’t believe you believe it, but you might have lingering brain damage after the hearing voices thing.”

I heard her laugh on the other end. Good to hear.

“It’s there, trust me.”

“Then we’ll see how it is face to face.”