“What are the consequences if you tell us outright?” Effervescent asked.

“I haven’t gotten into this with my own team, and I know them. I don’t know most of Foresight. I need to diagnose the problem before I can diagnose the consequences, but I can tell you it’d be bad.”

Effervescent nodded. She looked at Anelace again.

“I like option two,” he said. “The lie. It tells us the most and I think safety is the best priority.”

“Going by her judgment.”

“Yeah,” Anelace said. “What’s your read?”

“Seems genuine, as far as I can tell. I say go ahead.”

“Not running it by the boss?” I asked.

“Countenance is busy, and he trusts us. Trusts me,” Effervescent said. “And as far as ’Lace goes, he trusts me to keep tabs on and find ’Lace if he goes missing.”

I raised an eyebrow at Anelace, which I could only do because I wasn’t wearing my mask.

“I had a thing a little while ago, when the team was new,” Anelace said. “We were supposed to be paired up for jobs. I dodged Effy. Effy caught me with, ah, the reason for the dodging.”

“A rooftop liaison with a villain or villainess?” I asked. “You don’t have to answer.”

“A villainess would have been easier than the liaison ended up being.”

“That’s actually true,” ‘Effy’ said.

“And I feel bad.”

“Half true.”

Anelace laughed a bit. “Good enough. You want to tell us your convenient lie here in the front hall of our HQ, or step away somewhere?”

“Outside? Tattletale can chime in, fill in the blanks.”

I saw them exchange looks.

“Believe me,” I said. “I know. Every doubt, every suspicion. I get it. I know one hundred percent. But I think including her helps all of us.”

“Alright,” ‘Effy’ said. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Anelace said.

We made our way outside. Anelace held the door for Effervescent and me.

“Fuck me,” Effervescent said. “That’s a big-ass bird.”

Tattletale was outside the car, leaning against the side. Chicken Little was sitting on the trunk, while his eagle was perched in a tree above him, devouring one of the twenty crows that occupied other branches. His hawks were out of the middle-seat birdcage and rested on his shoulder and glove, respectively.

Snuff was a good fifty feet away, his hood pulled up to show a jaw with no chisel to it, covered in stubble. He was smoking with enough intensity that a cloud surrounded him.

“I recognize him. Snuff,” Anelace observed, as we got closer to Tattletale.

“Is it a problem?” Tattletale asked.

“He was a murderer for hire.”

“He was. Pre-amnesty,” Tattletale said. “You didn’t answer my question. Is it a problem?”

“No,” Anelace said. “You let him hang around with a kid?”

“I hang around with who I want to hang out with,” Chicken Little said. “Right big guy?”