Professor Mechaniacal sighed to himself as a peculiar resonance – one that had buzzed deep in his bones from the moment he’d arrived in the timeline – faded away. It was a shame that version of himself had wound up such a disappointment, even taking into account the differences between his life and that of his alternate self. More difficult in some ways, easier than others, but every life had hardships and opportunities. It was people who decided what they would be, not events.

  “There, but for the grace of God, go I,” Mechaniacal muttered. It was obvious the sort of trajectory Greg had been on once the depowerer had popped up – and Mechaniacal was very curious how that effect had been managed – so he’d already concluded there was no good way his alternate’s actions could end. There was a reason that he had been very careful about his most blatant creations and their application. Just because he was Mechaniacal didn’t mean that he was invulnerable.

  The trick was always to show exactly the capability needed to get the desired response. That sounded to many like Mechaniacal should show the minimum amount of force, but it was more nuanced than that. Even doomsday weapons were not threatening enough to drive the greater powers to murder, if said doomsday weapons could be located and shut down — or better, dismantled and learned from or repurposed.

  He had become, over time, fairly good at the dance. Threatening enough to provoke a response, but not so much that people were willing to destroy cities or countries to remove him. When it came to the serious threats, the things that Mechaniacal felt were a true problem, something stealthy and unobtrusive that didn’t look anything like his signature technology worked quite well.

  The problem was that he’d learned in his first timeline that just killing people did less to solve problems than most might think, and that there were plenty of people that he just couldn’t eliminate for all his vaunted genius. Blacktime was one, which was why he’d arranged for the man to be stymied by Glorybeam far earlier in his career than in Mechaniacal’s universe. The man’s power was dangerous, but pushing him too hard was even more so.

  He had been ready to leave from the moment of Glorybeam’s depowerment, but if an alternate of himself was rising up, then it was worth seeing what happened. Even if it was unlikely, he had maintained some hope that the young Greg would serve to balance out the forces on the ground — or to deal with problems in ways that he never had. A permanent depowerment, for example, was entirely new to Mechaniacal’s experience, and could have had interesting wide-ranging effects. Instead, now that Greg was gone, it was clear the cascade effects could result in utter catastrophe.

  Mechanical looked around the yard of the estate, considering. It was clearly time to leave, but he had grown fond of his garden and his tiny vineyard and the little bit of winemaking equipment. He’d have to put up some protections. It wouldn’t do to take it with him – the plants would never survive on earth – but he could ensure it remained available for him in the future.

  He put down the clippers and walked inside, fingers reaching out to nudge this bit of rock and that one, adjusting the orientation of this rune relative to the others. Just the little touches that were necessary to align all the subtle changes he’d made to the place. Resonance, motion, the grand sweep of the Great Orrery — all of these things existed everywhere. He didn’t need tools to perform his work, though they sure did help if he wanted to do anything substantive with alacrity.

  Tiny gears clicked, vibrations shuddered through the stone wall of the manor, and atoms aligned themselves in ways orthogonal to simple bonding. A lever longer than a planet shifted, and an image appeared on the wall of his drawing-room. The interior of Star Central, and the extremely dangerous man that Mechanical always thought of as The Director. He had a different appellation in reality, but Mechanical had first encountered him in the catastrophic shadows that surrounded timelines, and always thought of him in those terms.

  In his dimensional travels, Mechaniacal had found that such echoes of reality were far more common than a genuine timeline. An event that had never come to pass, but whose potential was so profound that they cast a silhouette on the walls of reality, creating areas bounded in time and space where these possibilities played out. Shadow puppets of probability, not real people or places — but close enough to fool the unwary traveler.

  He had walked in the light-stained ruins of Glorybeam’s Folly, the light at the end of the world. Seen the seas choked to stagnant puddles by biotitans run out of control, the collapse of the Deep Kingdoms turning the planet into so much gravel. And he’d seen the dissolution of cause and effect as the dream realm overlapped with the great crystal sphere that held the Earth, The Director’s influence erasing the boundaries between is and might be.

  Ichabod was unique to this specific timeline – or at least, he hadn’t been part of Mechaniacal’s original timeline – and it had taken some digging to even find out what had happened. It had been a surprise to find that the man wasn’t even real; his existence had been made untrue by the Sovereign of Lies, but his own power was so profound that he had dreamed himself back into existence, even if both he and his power bore the scars of The Liar.

  So Mechaniacal had a healthy respect for not pushing Ichabod too far, lest he create the exact sort of cataclysm that had cast him out beyond time and space to begin with. However, Mechaniacal couldn’t afford to let any of these forces push each other either, and with Glorybeam temporarily – or permanently – out of the picture, a confrontation between Ichabod’s Star Central and Blacktime was probably inevitable. Especially now that the common threat that had suppressed any escalation between the two of them was gone.

  It took Ichabod all of two seconds to realize that a portion of his wall had been altered. Mechanical watched with approval as the man unhesitatingly reached to thumb what was undoubtedly an alarm before directing his chair to rotate around on its repulsors. The mechanisms that kept Ike’s power under control and his fleshy body alive were incredible work. In some ways Mechaniacal himself couldn’t have done better, even if he would have done it very differently.

  “Mechaniacal,” Ike said cooly, as if this were a courtesy call and not a bending of time and space that abused Lunarian runes and bypassed any number of protections.

  “Ichabod,” Mechaniacal replied cheerily. He wished his original timeline had an Administrator Ike. The man was good at his job, even without using his powers. There was a reason that Mechaniacal had been able to enjoy a break for so many years. “I understand you’re having some issues.”

  “I would ask how you know,” Ichabod sighed. “But I suppose it doesn’t matter. What is it you want, Mechaniacal?”

  “The same as I always have, of course,” Mechanical said, steepling his fingers as he regarded Ichabod. “To prevent a potential catastrophe. Permanent depowerment was never something I pursued, but seems to have left you in a rather lopsided situation. Besides which, Star City is a place I think upon quite fondly.”

  “This couldn’t wait until we are not in the middle of an ongoing incident?”

  “The incident is no longer ongoing,” Mechaniacal replied, ignoring the beam of ravening light projected onto the monitors lining the walls of Ichabod’s office. That wasn’t how the failsafe was supposed to work at all, and wasn’t that interesting? “It would be best to take control of the situation now, before anyone else realizes it.”

  “You mean best for you to take control of the situation,” Ike said skeptically. Mechaniacal made an equivocal gesture with one hand.

  “I don’t have any desire to run Star City,” he said firmly. “That is tremendous effort for little return. But with no sovereign to offset Blacktime, the situation in the Five City Alliance could escalate very quickly. All I need from you is the imprimatur of approval. It would be quite tiresome to have superheroes trying to come and bother me all the time that I’m working.”

  “You want to be Star City’s sovereign superhero?” Ike asked, with justifiable skepticism.

  “Nothing so gauche,” Mechaniacal assured him. “I am Professor Mechaniacal, I am myself and nothing else. But that doesn’t mean I am above cooperating now and again, when I have a common goal.” He watched Ichabod’s neutral expression, almost able to see the gears ticking away inside the man’s head.

  “I will be coming out of retirement regardless,” Mechaniacal said cheerfully, brushing down his suit and ensuring it was neat and proper. “Something that will be easier on you if only you take my offer. Don’t put off doing good today for the fear of evil tomorrow.”

  ***

  Administrator Ichabod traced over several of the emergency buttons as he eyed the portion of his wall that had been taken over by Mechaniacal. Sadly, he even recognized the technique — Moonblast had used it once when she’d needed to contact him from the Deep Kingdoms. The confirmation that the supervillain had somehow learned to exploit lunarian runework during his seclusion – obviously it hadn’t really been an imprisonment – was far from encouraging.

  On the other hand, he was all too aware that Mechaniacal had a point. Captain Bulk had reported that Blacktime had killed the super responsible for the depowerment, and while there might be a few of the depowerer drones still about, without Mechaniacal himself or the ersatz version that had somehow managed to control the technology, they weren’t actually a threat. Not that he would dare let Blacktime get ahold of such a device in any state.

  Which meant that, in a very few minutes, his people would be confronting Blacktime’s for the remains of Mechaniacal’s lab — unless he allowed Mechaniacal himself to swoop in. Though it was unlikely the ancient tinker would actually be interested in the weapon, since that wasn’t the way he worked. His approach was far more measured and deliberate, an insidious force that rarely created the kind of disruption associated with the depowerer. Besides, there was the brutal and terrifying fact that most of Mechaniacal’s real work was impenetrable even to other tinkers.

  He'd studied examples himself. It should have been simple — gears and axles, cogs and rotors, springs and escapements; the creations rarely even used electricity. But the way they were assembled called upon something terribly profound, with shapes of dread malevolence. Even people who weren’t tinkers could feel the way Mechaniacal’s designs called upon some deeper logic that the human mind wasn’t meant to comprehend.

  “Professor Mechaniacal,” he said finally, and with some exasperation. “You are one of the most dangerous supervillains I have ever encountered.” Mechaniacal merely inclined his head as if receiving praise. “Even if I could possibly trust you – which I cannot – the consequences of just allowing you into Star City…”

  “Perhaps I was not clear,” Mechaniacal said, still entirely friendly. “There is an imbalance in Star City that needs to be corrected. With Glorybeam no longer there to offset Blacktime, his operations will only escalate, and that will draw ever more scavengers. You need a force for order, not a force for good. What you can decide is your relationship with that force.”

  Ike swallowed imprecations, because he hardly had the time for such a luxury. He could see the beam fading, an energy blast that he’d seen once or twice before which had slagged some of Mechaniacal’s work that was clearly not meant to be discovered. Even if some of the materials there were effectively invulnerable, Mechaniacal’s own weaponry had no issue in destroying them.

  The last of the drones were being summarily incapacitated, so it would be five, maybe ten minutes before his people would be confronting Blacktime directly, and Ike doubted that the supervillain would simply leave. This was no decision that could be made by a committee or a government, it was one that had to be decided here, now, by him. Worse, it was entirely likely that Mechaniacal knew more about Blacktime than even Ike did; an alternate Blacktime, perhaps, from a different timeline, but it was still knowledge.

  A response to his emergency ping came a moment later in the form of Moonblast calling in, and Ike put the call on the far wall. It was grainy and close-in, a stark contrast with Machine Head’s new work, or the sympathetic magic Mechaniacal was exploiting, but the Lunarian’s worried face was still quite clear. She opened her mouth to say something, saw Mechaniacal through the camera feed Ike was using, then closed it, runes lighting up across her skin.

  “Princess,” Ike greeted her. “We have perhaps three minutes to resolve this.” He kept a close eye on the other monitors, where his people were squaring up around Blacktime’s quartet. Of Ravdia, there was no sign. In his ear, Vilmonica’s steady instructions made it clear what the current situation was.

  “You shouldn’t be able to do that,” Moonblast complained to Mechaniacal, rather than responding directly.

  “Your runic language is wonderfully adaptable,” Mechaniacal said with a theatrical bow. “And I have no complaints about your hospitality. I have certainly enjoyed my stay. But I believe it is time for me to leave.”

  Moonblast’s enormous eyes narrowed, then flicked to Ike. There were several multi-lateral agreements between Earth polities and lunar ones based on the simple fact of Mechaniacal’s imprisonment, all of which might be void if he escaped — especially with the imprimatur of Star Central’s approval. Not to mention the direct consequences of Mechaniacal’s return to Earth. Ike had precious little leverage, but he was determined to push as much as he could.

  Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.

  “There is, perhaps, one thing that you could offer to assuage us at least in the short term,” Ike said thoughtfully. “The permanent depowerment effect. Reversing it or at least providing immunity to it. It is your technology, after all.”

  “Now that is a worthy project,” Mechaniacal admitted, eyes glinting dangerously. “I am quite interested in how that was accomplished, though I must say that not everything can be undone. Even for those who can touch time and space, it is best not to assume things can be altered.”

  Ike grimaced. On one hand, Mechaniacal having any interest in restoring Glorybeam’s powers, even an academic one, was a good thing. But if the supervillain hadn’t created it himself than there was no telling how esoteric it could be. Magic could do things tinkers couldn’t, and the intersection of different powers could have unexpected effects.

  “I will instruct my people to give you a degree of distance when you return,” Ike said, committing himself. He didn’t like it, and it was certain that he’d have to put together something to deal with Mechaniacal in the future, but at this point he was low enough on options that he’d have to take chances. If nothing else, he agreed that Blacktime would become more aggressive. Even if much of the restriction on him before had been personal, thanks to Glorybeam’s relationship, that couldn’t last without hard power. “Now, if you will excuse me, I have a catastrophe to oversee.”

  Mechaniacal merely smiled broadly, offered a bow, and the wall fizzled as the magical resonance faded away. There was no telling how he intended to bridge the distance from the moon to Earth, but Ike wasn’t about to offer any assistance. Instead, Ike sighed and glanced at Moonblast, who was still staring at where the supervillain had been. The camera showed a section of shiny forehead, the lunarian obviously leaning in to study the feed.

  “Moonblast, I may need to request some emergency assistance. Please stay on the channel. Mocker?” Ike asked, flicking the comms channels on his chair. “Did you find out anything about that super? Ravdia?” Even as he asked, he pulled up the images from Captain Bulk’s chest camera, which had caught the supposed magical girl super in action.

  “The lunarian here is giving me the runaround,” Mocker replied, voice tinny from the mini-microphone. “And she regularly purges magical residue. But I did find enough to verify that Ravdia follows the same pattern as Hartson’s other personas.”

  “Those runes are all accurate,” Moonblast mused, eying the video stills of the purple-clad super. “They’re also deliberately sanitized. No affiliation.”

  “This particular super is involved in the depowerment ray. I can’t see how it was purposeful, but there are far too many coincidences surrounding this man.” Ike tapped his fingers against his control panel, mind flipping through the possibilities now that yet another new connection had been revealed. Both sides of the Lunar Rebellion would love to have Earth supers on their side, but that was such an incredible political morass nobody dared engage with it.

  The injunction against engaging with lunarians was both political and physical. Almost all major nations had agreed on it, and just as importantly, so had major sovereigns and magical cabals. This was in part to prevent any escalations that might threaten the empyrean crystal spheres, but also because much of lunarian logic and runework couldn’t be understood on Earth. Even those few wizards who had managed to grasp the meaning of a few runes had done so while on the moon itself, though a tinker managing to do so wasn’t something anyone had expected. But Mechaniacal was a sovereign, and Hartson shouldn’t be capable of meddling with something that had a world-wide magical dissuasion on its use.

  “In fact, every time we’ve encountered him, he’s essentially gotten his way,” Ike continued, moving past the Lunar element. “Leaking information to the papers, mental influence, escaping trained supers, breaking out of Star Central at the exact moment Glorybeam was attacked, and now leading Blacktime to that tinker?” Ike ticked off items on what remained of his fingers. “I can’t help but wonder if he’s playing us — or if someone else is, through him.” Before Moonblast could reply, Vilmonica’s voice sounded in his ear.

  “Sir, Captain Bulk is asking for instructions.” Ike took a breath and tapped out several codes on his chair’s control console, linking him to the transceivers worn by his various supers. Moonblast’s image shrunk to a small portion of the screen, a dozen other images of the location appearing along with a combined audio feed.

  “—this base,” Blacktime’s resonant voice was saying. “Unless any of you think you can—”

  “Enough, Blacktime,” Ike said, his voice echoing from the comms badges worn by his people. “You should go. A battle benefits none of us.”

  “Administrator Ike.” Blacktime’s silhouetted form turned to face Captain Bulk directly. “I presume you have some good reason that I should not take my prize here and now?” He waved at the surprisingly intact remnants of the false Mechaniacal’s base.

  “The super that led you there is the same one who is responsible for the depowerment beam in the first place,” Ike said, stretching the truth only slightly. “He has been evading us for weeks, and to bring us together at the time when a common enemy is removed? I suspect we are being manipulated.”

  “He?” Blacktime repeated, then was silent a moment. “Even if that is the case, it’s not a good reason to abandon a treasure trove of material and equipment and allow you to seize control of it. I have little incentive to trust you, regardless, especially while the disposition of Glorybeam remains uncertain.” The man didn’t want to state outright that he was pissed Ike hadn’t been letting the two see each other, but it was there in the subtext.

  “You well know that the current circumstances are far too delicate to attend to that matter,” Ike said, as while he didn’t entirely object to them meeting, it would have to be under the observation of some other sovereign that could credibly threaten Blacktime’s control. “And regardless of any of our wishes, it is clear no one will have control of the lab,” he continued grimly. “The moment that beam went out, Mechaniacal broke out of his prison on the moon. And he is coming here.”

  That gave Blacktime pause. Of course, the supervillain could simply have rejected that Ike was telling the truth, but there was a reason why the administrator had been careful to be as transparent as possible in his dealing with villains, and to never bluff. The truth was a far better and more powerful weapon.

  Ike had doubts that Hartson was working with Mechaniacal, but he didn’t know. It was as good an explanation as anything else, and maybe better than some. What he did know was that he couldn’t afford to persuade Blacktime with force, and had to hope words were sufficient. The fallout of an all-out super-brawl would crack the already-strained infrastructure of Star City and perhaps the Five City Alliance as a whole.

  “Very well. If Mechaniacal is returning…” Blacktime fell silent, then was engulfed in a dome of black. It swept out and away from the battle site, taking with it his companions, and Ike cut the broadcast before letting out a long sigh. Then he flipped to private comms, only addressing team leaders.

  “I want everyone on cleanup and support. It looks like we’ve got a dozen residential buildings damaged or destroyed, and I want everything around that lab completely clear. We’ll have to wait on events before we make any rebuilding plans, and all those people need their possessions and temporary housing. Vilmonica, if you could get on the latter half of that.”

  People swarmed into action again, trying to clean up after the mess. At least it would seemed to the general public that the heroes had won the day, though in the longer term the press was likely to be less complimentary. Under the circumstances, he might be able to persuade them to characterize Mechaniacal’s presence as somewhat of a change of heart. Villains did reform on occasion, after all.

  “Mocker, I need you to dust off the old tinker contingency plans,” Ike said. “Then if you have time, see if you can locate Hartson.” The man was in the middle of everything, and Ike wouldn’t be satisfied until he understood exactly who and what Isaac Hartson represented.

  ***

  Sarah stood on the balcony and stared out at the beam of light rising above the city. It wasn’t the first time something like that had happened – this was Star City, after all – but this was the first time she had to worry about someone who was part of it. Her dad had been involved in some flashy stuff before, but she knew Dad was nearly invulnerable. She’d even see him take a full-power punch from Captain Bulk.

  Chains – no, Isaac – was more breakable, so she worried.

  Even if he wasn’t directly caught in whatever that pillar was, Blacktime was not to be trusted. The supervillain held to a certain sort of integrity, because otherwise people like Dad wouldn’t work for him. But as some random super, with no backing or connections, there wasn’t much to protect Isaac if Blacktime got too interested in what he could do.

  She didn’t know if she’d get him back. Worse, she didn’t know when she would know. He had promised to head straight for the park after taking care of business, but they both knew that there might be complications. The massive beacon of light certainly seemed to indicate things had come to a head, but the radio show echoing from every open window made it clear the area was crawling with supers, hero and villain, so even if he was perfectly fine he might not be able to leave.

  “Your boyfriend is involved in that?”

  Sarah jumped as her mom’s voice came from behind, breaking through her narrow focus. Though by the looks of it most people were out on windows or balconies, looking at the blue-white spear clearing out clouds and vanishing into the sky. The deep, booming drone and blinding light was impossible to miss.

  “I think so,” Sarah said, not bothering to deny the term her mother used. She didn’t feel like squabbling. “It’s more than I thought.”

  “Honey, when you’re dealing with sovereigns, it’s always going to be dramatic,” Mom said with a chuckle. “Even just the tactical types tend to be flashy. I know you’ve been working with your father for a few years, but you should have seen the sort of capers he got up to in his youth! If anything, working under Blacktime has made him more sensible.”

  “But Isaac isn’t like that,” Sarah said, fingers tapping nervously on the balcony rail. “Did you ever worry about Dad not coming home?” She knew there was a bit of separation between her mother and father now, more than in the past, the two living and working in their own spheres. But they weren’t divorced, and still acted like they were on good terms during her father’s frequent visits. Sarah generally didn’t care to consider it any further.

  “Now and again,” Mom admitted, putting a hand on Sarah’s shoulder. “And I know it could happen. But supers are tough. Don’t think the worst unless it’s absolutely confirmed.”

  “Easy to say,” Sarah muttered, and Mom patted her shoulder sympathetically.

  “We’ll just act like he’s coming back,” she said. “James has a little bit of leeway in when he leaves, so we can give it a day or two. Though I have to say I’m surprised you took an interest in that.”

  “I think I need to get out of the city, at least for a bit,” Sarah said, and waved her hand at the droning energy pillar. “So does he. There’s too much of the past here to think straight. We both need to actually think about the future, and we need the time and space for it.”

  “Now, that I understand,” Mom said with a laugh. “I’m glad you’ve decided to do your own thing. No matter how much I love your father, he’s probably not the best role model.”

  Sarah shook her head, looking out at Star City and misliking the past but hoping for the future.

  ***

  Ravdia had discarded the armor, damaged as it was, but that didn’t seem quite sufficient. Something itched and scratched deep in Ravdia’s mind, other names that could maybe apply, could maybe matter, but didn’t at the moment. Any dutiful hero would return to Justice for Hire and report success, but those names prevented it.

  Instead, clad in ill-fitting clothes, Ravdia haunted the fringes of the old, dilapidated neighborhood, feet sometimes making for the mercenary house before being pulled up short. When going to buy food or drink, it was done in monosyllable words. Like it was impossible to speak properly, trapped between one thought and another.

  Infuriatingly, there was the sensation of knowing exactly what to do. Or rather, almost knowing. It was like having a word at the tip of the tongue, but not quite able to find it. That, but applied to the entire self, something sapping at Ravdia’s ability to make choices, trying to muster the will to even think about options. Something that Ravdia kept pushing against, kept trying to summon, all during the long hours after the battle.

  Ravdia paced, wandered, and tried to get moving in the proper direction. One loop made it almost as far as the park once, before veering back to the same old neighborhood. Similarly, Ravdia got halfway to the upscale area where Justice for Hire was located before veering off. The sun went down, the moon wheeled overhead, and sleep didn’t come.

  It was only as Ravdia sat, miserably chewing on a breakfast bagel, that the slow, invisible grind of willpower passed some unseen tipping point. An infinitesimal difference that let Isaac summon the will to apply his power to himself, pulling out inertia so he could actually change. Change his mind, change his persona, and finally shift away from Ravdia’s outlook and intentions.

  He took a deep breath, almost choking on his bagel, as it seemed like a massive weight had been lifted from him. Almost immediately, another one took its place, as he realized he could do this to himself. The thought that he might give his mind or existence so much inertia that he couldn’t deviate from a specific path, locked inexorably into silence or motion, was horrifying. Or as with Ravdia, he could create an entire other person that would become him in his place. The idea that he’d nearly managed to consign himself to death or insanity drove him to his feet, and he quickly staggered into the tiny café bathroom, shaking and sweating as his stomach rebelled. He stood in the stall for a long few minutes, just breathing as he tried to hold his breakfast down and giving himself space to think it through.

  While he could ignore the effects of his own power when it came to the physical, it was clear that all the more esoteric versions required practice. He needed to get a better handle on things, and sooner rather than later. The time was long past where he could hide what he was capable of; he’d left behind lots of inertially-altered material, and not just costume scraps.

  Even if he was leaving the city – assuming Sarah had waited for him – he’d be forced into a confrontation sooner or later. Before that happened, he needed to understand the full extent of his power, and just as importantly, how to use it without screwing things up for everyone else. He was a necessary link in the chain of events that had led to the depowerment ray, and from it all the sorts of trouble that he hated.

  He was definitely done with breakfast, so chewed on those thoughts instead as he returned to the train station to get his effects from the locker there, hefting the bag over his shoulder as he clambered up to the street above. Donning the guise of David Jeffries and very carefully only putting in a small amount of inertia, he made his way to Park Avenue East. The very same member of the Elemental Patrol sat in the very same bench, reading a different book.

  The guard at the Humbert Building was different, but when Isaac gave David’s name, he was buzzed through to the interior. Even as it lifted him up, he checked over his bag and straightened his clothes, still feeling like a stranger in his own skin and unable to quite believe the events of the past few days. Or the plans for the next few.

  Doors opened with a ding, and Isaac stepped out into the vestibule to find Sarah waiting there already, forewarned by the door guard. He started to raise his hand to greet her, only for her to launch herself forward for a hug instead. Isaac grunted, surprised, and put his arms around her in return as he relaxed into the hug.

  “You made it! Since you didn’t come yesterday, I thought…”

  “It was a close thing,” he admitted, pulling away just enough to see her face, though he didn’t want to elaborate yet. Isaac would tell her eventually, when they had more privacy. Sarah had shown she could be trusted, and besides, it’d be a damn weird relationship if he couldn’t.

  “Well, you’re here now,” Sarah said. She turned to usher him inside, and as she did he saw the slightest wisp of smoke escape her mouth. “We’re all packed. Time to leave.”

  END OF BOOK ONE

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