“Be careful. She’s not the Simurgh, she doesn’t weaponize information quite the same way, but…”

“Yeah.”

“Like I said, I’m ninety percent sure I’ve pointed you in the right direction. If it turns out I’m wrong, I’m going to give you rare permission to wake me up, and I’ll see if I can get you where you want to be. Even if I don’t think you can find a key to beating her, I think this is the right sort of space to be digging in.”

“Okay,” I said. “Thank you. I don’t know if I should promise you a favor, dangerous as that seems, or offer to buy you a drink out of professional courtesy… if we can get past all of this…”

I heard a sniff from Tattletale. “That would be unbearably awkward. This is unbearably awkward. The world’s ending, this is my equivalent of putting five chips on you. That’s all it is.”

“It’s appreciated,” I said.

“I know.”

“We were planning on doing a thing with Vista, inviting Rachel, catching up with people from Brockton Bay, celebrate her turning eighteen.”

“Don’t jinx it,” Imp cut in.

“Shush!” Kenzie chimed in.

“If we get that far, then I’ll be there. You can buy me a drink, we’ll be even. How’s that?”

“Alright.”

“If I don’t hear from you, I’ll assume I was right. Hanging up now.”

“Bye,” I said.

I backed away from the camera, pulling my forcefield around me. A part of me was hoping that any resolution, any peace, anything at all might get me back the control that would let me do things, or even to carry that gun, when we went back to the surface.

No such luck.

“C’mon, Lookout,” I said. “And the rest of you, I assume you’re looking over her shoulder.”

“Sometimes,” Kenzie said.

I landed, the fog and dust parting a bit as I met the ground with both feet.

The fact my foot didn’t hurt reminded me of what happened to my leg. I felt my stomach do a flip flop, and for a moment, I could sympathize a bit with Imp and her reaction to looking through whatever viewing implement Kenzie had offered.

More than anything, I felt wrong down to my bones. I was supposedly better, Chris had supposedly healed me, but I felt like I was crammed into my body, nothing in the right order, but the signals to tell me things were off had all been tampered with.

Like looking at myself in a video, seeing my reflection flipped around compared to what I normally saw in the mirror, but being unable to point at anything specific.

From skin to meat to the bone. I hated it. Hated it. Hate.

I sighed. Then, experimental, I pushed out with my aura, while focusing on my mental image of Contessa. Seeing if there was a pulse, a clue. Anything even from my fragile, wretched companion.