No, not just Byron. This was too close to home for Sveta, who was a little out of control, isolated, and cut off from the rest of us.

For Chastity, probably, because she’d stepped away from Rachel to go to Damsel, touching Damsel’s hair, smiling. Playing peacemaker to someone that was emotionally volatile, dangerous, who probably didn’t deserve that peace. But Chastity was doing it, and she was good at it, from what I could tell.

The Undersiders? I couldn’t tell. Rachel was alone, focusing on her dogs. Foil was worrying, no doubt, especially with the nebulous hints Paris had given. She probably wanted to be stopping March, not here. I knew she’d always felt displaced, before. It was probably why she was with the Undersiders.

Damsel was tense, but she was easing up. Walking a razor’s edge. Ashley was trying to look poised as my dad stitched up her shoulder. She wasn’t doing the best job of upholding the poised and ‘I couldn’t care less’ image, I could see the tells, but nobody commented.

And, all this while, I was thinking of Brandish as my mom and Flashbang as my dad because right now they were. I associated coming home at the end of the night to medical care and small talk or recaps of the night with family. After a point, it had been coming back to Amy, to fix any bumps or scrapes, if anything had slipped past my forcefield. That thought did sour the picture.

Soured, but it didn’t change that some of the moments my mom had felt most like a mom had been when she’d been holding my hand over the sink, dabbing at blood or probing at the bones to see if I’d broken my hand by hitting something too hard. Like other girls had their moms brush their hair, but I’d had that too when I was little and it didn’t sit with the same weight as the hand care. I remembered my dad massaging my shoulder and talking to me about the bigger picture, after a frustrating night where five carjackers had scattered the instant they saw me and I’d only caught two. In those moments I’d felt more like I was a part of the family than I had on any Christmas or on any summer vacation.

Close to home. Pain had a way of bringing us that direction, and those traps had hurt. Exposed the raw nerves.

That only left Moose and Harbinger.

I really hoped Harbinger wasn’t closer to home, because home for him had to be a scary, scary place.

I floated, testing my flight. Ninety percent.