“I am. We are. Which is why, ideally, I’d like four rocks I can throw, my power at eighty-five percent, and one nail or pen. Because beating them isn’t enough, now. Both sides of this equation need to be balanced out.”

“You couldn’t end this by saying you’ll annihilate them? Or even ‘break them’?”

“Those kinds of phrasings have been made weak by overuse. Math is unchanging and crystal clear.”

“Only to you,” Swansong said.

“This is going completely over my head,” Moose said.

“Just don’t drop ’em,” I said. “You don’t want them holding grudges.”

“Alright,” Moose said. “I wasn’t going to anyhow.”

I glanced at the phone, tracking my blip—the phone I held—and extrapolating directions from the way the image showed an overhead view of field and road. Reaching over, I gave Swansong a tug on the arm, pulling her away from a course that would put her in the way of traps.

“Hey Moose,” Prancer said. “Remember the old mechanic, when we were road tripping? Got in an argument with Velvet?”

“Sure.”

“Remember why I handled it the way I did? Don’t go saying it, just yes or no.”

“Tricks, Prancer?” I asked. “You’re being vague.”

“Nah,” he said. “Not coordinating against you. I swear on Velvet’s memory.”

“He’s being honest,” Moose said. “I remember, Prance.”

We continued a slow retreat toward the road. Paris’s group wasn’t letting us go, and I could tell that at least Paris had noted that we were adapting to the mines. He might have hoped we’d walk right into them.

Before he could adapt or attack, I spoke up, “Contender. Paris. The Harbingers are in good with the people who really run this city, you know. We asked for help in dealing with the real scumbags, with you assholes, and they sent these guys. You have enemies with reach that extends beyond dimensions, now.”

“We’ll manage,” Contender said.

“We closed the doors,” I told him. “Exits to other worlds are closed, until we unlock them. You’re stuck here with us. No running back to Cheit, no escaping the consequences.”

We steadily retraced our steps, moving backward through the field, toward the larger group of villains and our incapacitated allies.

Sveta was staying further away. She triggered a trap and grabbed it, hurling it in the general direction of Contender’s group.

Paris looked ready to deal with it himself, but it was Contender who stepped forward, using his power to draw a glowing bubble around himself and the trap both. Two seconds passed, and the bubble receded. The trap was broken at his feet. No symptoms.