“That’s not the worst thing,” Blackforest said.

“You’re free, though, aren’t you?” he asked. He saw the hesitation. “You choose what to do and when?”

“Yeah. But we decide by committee.”

“How often do you get what you want?” he asked.

“Not as often as I like,” she said, looking nervous. “But isn’t that just compromising? Everyone ends up a bit unhappy.”

“And the sleeping situation? Home? You have a room? No foster parents?”

“Hexie and I share a room. No foster parents, but we have a den mother. A bunch of us teen villains, and they’re accepting of Hexie and me. The den mother looks after our headquarters and us, arranges food, sets a few rules, and keeps us pointed in the right direction.”

“What does she get?”

“A cut of whatever we earn or take.”

“Is she fair?”

“Probably not,” Blackforest said. “But we get enough we don’t feel desperate, and we could leave any time. Except, y’know…”

“Hard to find something that works,” he said, quiet.

She nodded.

So you’re not that free, and you can’t really leave any time?

“You should tell some of us where you are,” he said. “And arrange check-ins. If we don’t hear from you, we come to see you’re okay.”

Blackforest nodded.

“You seem happier,” he remarked.

“I am. I’m happy, it’s good to be here,” she said, momentarily enthused, emotions and personality entirely mismatched to her body. “I’m glad I came. I owe you so much for talking me through the darkest time of my life. I feel so bad that we lost contact.”

“Everyone lost contact with everyone for a while,” he told her. He didn’t mention he had felt a bit of resentment over being abandoned. Yes, everyone had lost contact with everyone after Gold Morning, but there had been a few weeks where he’d sent messages to Chantilly and Blackforest and got nothing back. He’d been attached to the Irregulars, and the Irregulars hadn’t come back. The attack had left him utterly alone and with no resources, a monster and a cape in a time when capes were being viewed warily.

It was sheer luck he’d found Engel, in those first few months when there weren’t really phones and internet. He’d been so lonely in the aftermath that he would have latched onto anyone. Weeks and months without talking to anyone. Weld and Sveta had reached out, but accepting their offer for help and companionship would have been saying that what they did was okay.

Engel, Newter, Matryoshka, Gregor, and Bijou arrived from the roadside, where the adults had been talking. Engel was radiance, skin with fine fractal patterns etched onto it, like frost on a car that could only be seen from certain angles, her hair strands glowing in rainbow shimmers.