“Still being a downer,” she said. “But that’s good. Good she’s alive. She was—she was trying. Good you broke up.”

“Tristan kept one of your old lemon drop candies as a, I think it was a reminder,” Byron said, voice low. “Always got its spot in his belt pouch. He only cleared it out recently, a week ago, but it’s with his stuff.”

Lemon candy? I thought.

“Oh.”

“Do you, um, still like those?”

“Still being a downer,” she said. “You should be careful what questions you ask if the answers would trouble you.”

“Ah.”

“Heads up!” Stonewall called out. He’d regained his power and rebuilt his armor. He had a shield in both hands. “We’re mobilizing.”

People got to their feet, got ready. Withdrawal unfolded his gear.

“Be well,” Azúcar said.

“You too.”

“And don’t worry. I’d love a lemon drop right now.”

“Do you remember why they were important?”

“Don’t pick apart your happiness, Capricorn,” she said. She punched his arm lightly, claws retracted.

I was so envious of their interaction I could barely stand it.

“Stonewall,” Swansong called out. “We had a plan.”

“What’s the plan?”

“We don’t go forward. We go through the wall,” she said, her hand sparking.

“Will that get us where we need to be? I’d be worried about deviating from the set routes.”

“It’s territory without good rest spots. But maybe that hurts them as much as it hurts us,” Sveta said. “We can draw a map.”

“Or I can trust you,” Stonewall said. He clapped gauntlets of high-density stone together. “Everyone, we’re pushing for the nearest stairwell—”

He paused to check that Swansong and Sveta could get us there. They nodded.

“—and we’re heading upstairs. It only gets uglier from here. We’ve fought mostly thralls up to this point. As we get closer to the vitals of his infrastructure and organization, we’re going to have to fight the thralls and some of his better capes.”

“All precautions in effect,” Balk said. “He recruited some of the worst of them.”

Dying 15.4

Syringes emerged from the floor like a cresting wave, growing larger and more numerous as they got further from the source. I watched as Withdrawal tried to escape the tide, and an extension of the needles cut him off. Tinker stilts and the repelling shield he’d stolen off of a guard caused the needles to break, spilling dirty yellow-black fluid onto the floor.

Pumps, thick pipes, and white tile defined this corner of the complex’s second floor. We’d fanned out, our groups moving through the various rooms with the intent of clearing each room in turn and ensuring we wouldn’t be flanked, using powers to ensure we wouldn’t be followed. Anything else ensured a constant fight from all corners.