She dropped the bit at her feet. It detonated, and she was flung to one side.

“Clever, but no. You lie there, guts girl,” Valefor said. “Don’t move a muscle. The rest of you?”

Damsel used her power, hurling herself forward.

“No powers,” Valefor called out.

Damsel stopped.

“No weapons, no tools. None of you. Stay still and wait.”

I hadn’t been looking at him. I glanced at him, and I could see that his eyes were still covered.

The instructions he was getting. He couldn’t see. His power worked without him needing to see? Or had he tapped into another source, replying on a cape that granted vision like Mapwright could get and grant mental images of areas?

My heart pounded, and I felt nausea welling up. The Fallen chuckled. A few of the young hooligan types cackled and danced around, arms waving as they approached, spreading out.

We’d been too tied up with Beast of Burden. What should have been a brief engagement, taking out the two powerful Fallen and then retreating had become a thing. Valefor had gotten into earshot, and apparently that was all he needed.

I was having trouble thinking straight. Paralysis seemed to freeze my thoughts as much as it did my body. I’d dealt with it for two years, being unable to move under my own weight. The need to move became something fluttery in my chest, which fanned the swell of nausea.

It felt like colors were different, as was the clarity of my vision, as if I had someone else’s eyes. I was acutely aware of the feeling of my clothing on my skin, every breath and how they weren’t measured to the breaths before or after them.

No powers, he’d said. I couldn’t bring myself to fly. I couldn’t bring the wretch out. I glanced at Love Lost’s group. They’d been bound by words in the same way.

I looked down and tried to focus.

The Fallen closed the distance. I’d charged in, and that put me front and center. I got a good look at Valefor as he approached. There were white feathers in his hair and around his collar. He bent his head at an angle while talking in a whisper with the person leading him.

His companion stopped him a few feet in front of me, thumbs hooked in the slim belt at his waist.

“Mama told you to help us,” Valefor said. “You didn’t.”

“We did,” I said, still looking down. “We got your people to safety and protected them.”

“I’ve been told there are Fallen casualties,” Valefor said.

“Pazuza and Gel are dead. Smashed to a pulp. Jay and Nell,” his companion said. A guy with a face tattoo visible in the gaps of a ragged head-covering that only let his eyes peer through. “Some injured.”

“Family,” Valefor said, sticking his cane in my direction. “Don’t lie to me.”