“And ignores the things that are in her element?” I asked.

“Yeah. Just so you know, I don’t have the most charitable view of her, though I’m really trying here, I’m glossing over a lot of general bitchiness,” Foil said. “Take what I say with a heaping of salt.”

“I don’t—” I winced at the cold air that rushed its way to my sore throat, colder than most of the air I was intentionally taking in. “I don’t have the best view of her either, I don’t know if that means there’s no need for any added salt, or if I need an extra heaping. But it makes sense. What you say makes sense.”

“She’s out there,” Precipice said, from the driver’s seat. His hands were on the wheel, the smaller mechanical arm on the shift. “She’s helping our team yellow. I’m not saying you’re wrong. Just… to me that looks like she’s really conflicted, that she’s saying one thing but only halfway committing to it.”

“I’m not going to tell you that you’re wrong,” Foil said.

“But you want to?”

“She’s given me so much flack about being conflicted where I am…”

I didn’t hear the rest. Foil was talking to Rain now, not me. I peeled away, far enough from the armored van that I could use the Wretch. Close enough I could step in if needed.

A bit of relief, but it didn’t make the cold parts of me warm, it just stopped them from getting colder.

I checked the disc. Again, I had to zoom in.

I flew in closer to the others, holding the disc up. I saw Precipice glance my way. I put my arm out across the disc, hand flat, pointing the way.

“Be careful of a trap,” I told him.

I saw him and Foil nod. Foil undid her seatbelt.

“Watch for ambushes,” I told Rachel, “We’re conspicuous.”

“I heard you already,” she said.

Her henchman did give me a salute, though.

“And Precipice?” I asked.

“What?”

“Same thing as Lord of Loss. Hit me.”

“Are you serious?”

“Yeah,” I said.

We had to catch up to the hostages and the group of mercenaries or whoever that had caught them. They’d beat Imp, they’d gotten around Lookout, and Swansong hadn’t taken them down.

Every car on the road was a potential threat. Every person on the street, every alley was a potential direction of attack.

I rose higher, scanning the surroundings. So many people wore black for their winter clothing, or they wore white, and they were camouflaged against a background of dark pavement, gray concrete, and white snow.

I checked the disc.

They weren’t far at all. A couple of blocks away.

Rachel’s dog barked. A warning sound, one that the others picked up. I saw her reorient—