Crystal smiled. “I agree. I feel like a hole inside of me is a little less big. Cathartic is a good word. Even though I didn’t really vent.”

My mom was leaning on me more heavily as we ascended the stairs. It didn’t help that there were so many.

“Kid Win and I talked,” I said. “I remember hearing he died and wishing I’d talked to him more. I got to talk to him today, and it was interesting. If he wanted to hang out and chat in quieter times, I think I’d welcome it.”

“What do you two even have in common?” my mom asked.

“We connected on some of the childhood stuff, pre-cape. Kids being sent to visit the PRT. I asked some stuff, about what they remember, what they don’t. What might be recoverable. Intuitive understandings of powers, how things connect. What’s hazy for him and what isn’t.”

Crystal looked intrigued. “That sounds an awful lot like all the questions I wanted to ask my mom. I could have shaken her, begged her for answers to those same questions. But it felt like I shouldn’t. It would have disturbed the good parts of the moment, and I thought of Donatella’s mom. If you took her kids away, or put her in a situation where she couldn’t talk about her kids, would there even be a person there? If I pressured this version of my mom, would she collapse like a Christmas tree ornament?”

My mom answered, “Angelou Marus, Donatella’s mother, was in our book club.”

“Really?” Crystal asked.

“She approached the books with a hunger. I personally loved it. People surprise you, Crystal, especially when it comes to matters of enduring.”

“Alright. I guess that gives me some hope. Can I ask what Kid Win told you?”

“You can. He described it as a haze—”

“Sorry to interrupt,” Vista said. “But we’re here.”

‘Here’ was a branch off the side of the staircase. The Wardens’ choice of location for situation room wasn’t Teacher’s old one.

‘Then I’ll tell you after,” I promised Crystal. “And I’ll get more answers, and we’ll compare notes.”

“Thank you. That sounds good.”

We took the detour, and without the need to climb the stairs and more carefully place her feet, my mom didn’t have to lean on me. As we drew closer, I could see more capes that were second- or third-string Wardens. Capes like Naphtha and Golem.

Vista opened the door, and we stepped into the situation room.

I couldn’t help but feel like movies and television shows failed to capture the situation room atmosphere. Even at the PRT Headquarters, when the Wards and I had been getting briefed on the likelihood that the Slaughterhouse Nine were in the city, there had been something missing, and that something was distilled a hundred times over here.