“You’re getting sloppy,” Damsel said. “I hired someone because I had a sneaky little suspicion that a sneaky little heroine would be snooping around. Epeios.”

Kenzie groaned. “He’s going to have his greasy fingerprints all over my stuff, now!”

“With way too much of that stuff in your head,” Rain muttered, under his breath.

“No whispering,” Damsel said, extending a bladed finger our way. She seemed pleased with herself. “We might get paranoid, and I destroy anything that might make my underlings paranoid.”

“You got your trial run as leader, Damsel,” Trophy Wife said. “It doesn’t mean we’re all underlings.”

“Shh,” Damsel said. “I’m leader until someone says otherwise. If you want to oust me, do it formally, not in front of the riff-raff.”

“Can we talk?” I asked. “You scored your win, walked away. I want to strike some deals. Think of it as walking away with something more.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t quite understand you, with that mask in the way,” she said. “Mockument, could you do us all a favor and bring us out an impartial translator?”

“Do that and you’ll be picking a fight,” Tristan warned. “We can’t negotiate with a distraction like that.”

She waved Mockument off. “Since you’re pleading with me, I’ll be gracious.”

“Sure,” Tristan said.

“Three things we want,” I said.

“Greedy. You know, it’s really hard to take you seriously, Antares, when I’ve seen the ugliness that lies within you.”

I tensed.

She smiled.

The cast of figures around her were either stone-faced or masks covered their faces. Mockument was utterly still and expressionless, as were Trophy Wife and Nailbiter. Gibbet and Backwoods had masks, and Hookline and Sidepiece were inside.

I answered, careful to keep my voice steady. “We could have come after you hard, with the stunts you were pulling and the risk you were putting all of us in. The only reason we’re here talking to you is that we’ve seen what lies within you.”

Her smile dropped away. She went completely, dangerously still.

Maybe it wasn’t the best move from a diplomacy standpoint, but it was satisfying on a visceral level.

“We want the loot back. That’s thing number one. It’s not a lot to you, but it means a ton to those evacuees, sentiment-wise. We’ll pay you more than it’s worth, you won’t need to fence it. Provided you agree to our other terms.”

“What if we want to keep it?” Gibbet asked. She still crouched.

“Clothes too big for you and random jewelry?” I asked.

She shrugged.

“It makes sense,” Trophy Wife said. “And we need to sell it to give the boys their cut of the earnings.”

Damsel cleared her throat.

“But—” Gibbet started.

Damsel’s power flickered along the blades of one hand. Gibbet shut up.

Maintaining control.