Eli leapt onto the dock before the boat had finished puttering to the planks.

“I can’t believe you!” he yelled at Grim, fists shaking at his sides. “You knew the agency could do this, you knew he could be incapacitated—“

“Which is why I’m going to go get him!” Grim boomed back as they gathered the ropes. “You think I didn’t have a back-up plan?”

Eli spread his arms. “Then what is it?”

Grim threw the last rope onto the dock, then pulled out a metal lockbox from under a seat. Sherry looked at it and lost three shades of color.

“No.” The word escaped Eli’s lips before Sherry could open her mouth. “There’s no way Ambrose approved that—“

Grim stepped onto the dock and flipped open the latches. “Ambrose isn’t here to approve anything.”

“Well, I still am!” Sherry snapped, eyes wide. “And I say you’re not taking it!”

“Grim, please don’t.” Banneker’s voice was thin as he pleaded. “Please, we’ll find another way.”

Eli took one look at the area beyond the dock—a gravel lot, a truck, a motorcycle—then turned back to Grim, a wild half-idea seizing him.

“We sure will.” He yanked the lockbox out of their hand, grabbed the vial, and drank it in one motion. His vision instantly flashed white, and his palms struck the splintered planks of the dock.

“Eli!”

“What the fuck—“

He struggled to breathe as the icefall burned its way through him, ramming his heart into his ribs with the same power he had felt coming from Ambrose. But unlike past potions, there was no heaviness, nor static at his fingertips. It was as if the new mixture was blocking him from sensing it, from getting caught in the usual whirlpool of awareness and energy, until he felt almost separated from his own body.

He fumbled for the neutralizer in the box—iridescent and sludgy, twice as thick as the typical draught—and shoved it into his pocket. The crash from this was going to hurt.

“You said you decided on this plan together, before I came along.” He pushed himself to his knees as Sherry stumbled onto the dock beside Grim. “Ambrose didn’t do this for my life. He did it for yours.” He stood with legs that didn’t feel like his. The splinters in his hands belonged to someone else. “I’m already dead, Grim. He can lose me. He can’t lose any of you.”

He felt—or some part of him felt—a hand at his shoulder. He turned to find Banneker leaning over the side of the boat and holding an earpiece towards him. “What else do you need to get him back?”

Eli took the comm and slipped it into his ear.

“I’ll need that motorcycle, some knockout mist, and…” He nodded to Banneker’s phone. “I’ll need you to call Dawn.”

#

“Hello?”

“Kerighin, I need a favor.”

“Oh no.” The line briefly went silent—or as silent as it could go, against the muffled wind whipping around Eli. “That’s your mission voice, why are you using your mission voice?”

Eli shot around a curve in the road on Grim’s motorcycle. He would have enjoyed the ride more, if the icefall wasn’t currently making him feel like he was floating above himself. “I really don’t have time for the details—“

“Are you in trouble?”

Eli’s grip tightened on the handlebars. “Do you remember the agency’s dispatch protocols?”

“What?”

He clocked the next mile marker before he hurtled past it—just a few minutes until he caught up with the trucks. “I’ll explain everything later, but I need you to divert as many agency vehicles as you can from route eighty-three back to the dock north of the cabin.”

Dawn muttered a long string of curses under her breath. The familiarity of it made his heart hurt. “What should I tell them?”

“Tell them Icefall’s operatives have surfaced at the dock.” For a second, the potion dragged Eli’s mind away from his body, and he yanked it back in time to make the next turn. “Describe the boat, but not the people. They never actually saw us.”

“They never—?” Dawn’s voice went taut. “So the agency found you? Who’d they capture? Are you—“

“Can you make the call now?”

Rapid-fire typing on Dawn’s end failed to cover the fear in her response. “On it, Valenz.”

Eli nodded to himself. If Dawn was able to divert even one truck, that would mean ten fewer agents surrounding Ambrose.

An image of the blood on Ambrose’s shirt, as slick as an oil spill, made his breath catch in his throat.

“Valenz?” Dawn said. “You okay?”

God, he wished she was here right now. He tried to smile. “Can’t seem to do a mission without you, can I, Kerighin?” But his voice cracked at the end of the deflection.

“Oh God. They have Ambrose, don’t they?” Dawn stopped typing. “Eli, please tell me what’s going—“

The call clicked off.

“You’ll be on the trucks in two minutes,” Banneker’s voice crackled in her place. “Slow down to give Dawn some time for the call.”

Eli fought the urge to speed up. “Tell me when the trucks peel off.”

“Copy.”

When the line went silent, he felt his mind start to drift away again, somewhere above the bike. He knocked the side of the helmet with his palm as if to wake himself up. “Hey—someone talk to me, it helps with this stupid potion.”

Grim cleared their throat. “Did you sort out how to get into the truck?”

Eli swore silently. That was not what he wanted to talk about. “Is Sherry listening in?”

“Yes I am.”

“Then I don’t wanna say it.”

“If I’m going to be resuscitating your stupid ass afterwards, you better tell me your goddamn plan!”

Eli grinned despite himself. “If I don’t tell you, will you curse more?”

“I will slap you three ways to Sunday, Eli Valenz—“

“Two of the trucks are leaving,” Banneker cut in. Eli let out a sigh of relief. “But there’s one car waiting on the bridge up ahead, about ten miles out.”

“Pearce?”

“Probably,” Grim said. “Speed up and get in there.”

Eli accelerated until the sharp wind tore away his nerves, keeping him on the verge of calm until he spotted the trucks ahead.

“Which truck, Banneker?” Eli glanced up to look for Tom, but it was still invisible against the clouds.

“The one closest to you.”

“Good.” Eli loosened his grip on the bike and shook himself out as best he could. If he lived through this, he could never tell Lily, not ever. “Wish me luck?”

“Break a leg, man.”

“Oh, I hate this—“

“Valenz?” Grim said. “Get our stupid kid back.”

Eli caught his reflection in the side mirror of the truck and flexed his hand. “Copy.”

He flicked his fingers towards the mirror and pushed out a short pulse of energy—a weak one, just enough to make the white light flash against the glass when it struck. For a brief moment, his silhouette disappeared from view.

Then he held his breath, pulled his legs up to the seat, and jumped towards the truck.

Giving in to the phasing was easy. He merely thought about the metal melting away for him, about the refracted stained-glass light around his target, and there it was. Sparks of color leapt from his hand as soon as he touched the door, and he sank into it like it wasn’t even there. Within a second, his body had passed through the metal and landed on the floor of the truck, as quickly as if he had simply stepped in.

Giving in to the phasing was easy.

It was wrestling his mind back that was difficult.

“What the—?”

“Get him!”

His body was suddenly making all the decisions for him. His palm slammed on the metal floor, and the two agents closest to him froze. His hands grabbed their gun, smashed them back against the wall, then whipped the weapon across a third assailant’s face. Somewhere behind him, a gun clicked, and his arm whirled around to freeze everyone else within range. As his other hand swung up, energy gathering for a wave that would rip the truck’s walls in two—

“Eli?”

He latched onto the voice and pulled himself back under control.

“Ambrose!” He dropped his hand and shook it out. “Ames, it’s me.”

“I know.” Ambrose managed a weak smile, his mouth full of blood. As he tried to move, the icefall in him sparked in response to Eli’s presence, its energy signature flickering like a guttering candle flame.

“One second.” Eli dug a tiny spray bottle from his pocket, then began yanking the helmets off the guards and spraying the knockout mist in their faces.

“Agent Gutierrez,” a transmitter barked on the bench, “all clear back there? We thought we heard something.”

Eli grabbed the device. “All clear. Just putting Icefall in his place, sir.”

“Well, knock it off. Pearce wants to see him. We’re pulling over.”

Eli gripped the transmitter so hard he thought it might break. “Copy.”

The comm in his own ear came to life a second later. “Bridge up ahead,” Grim muttered. “Disguise yourself now.”

Eli twisted back to Ambrose, whose eyes had closed again. “But I have to give him the—“

The truck’s brakes began to squeal.

“No time. Get the truck in order.”

Eli cursed and hid his motorcycle helmet, then dipped back into the icefall to generate what he hoped was a passable illusion over himself—agency vest, boots, tinted visor. Pearce wouldn’t look at him closely, anyway. Not if he had Icefall in tow.

As the truck skidded to a halt, Eli crouched in front of Ambrose.

“He’s not going to kill you,” he whispered. “I’m not going to let him—“

Car doors slammed, and shoes crunched over gravel.

“Is he in here?” Pearce’s voice rumbled. Eli’s heart choked his throat.

“Yes, sir.” The agent up front pitched higher as they spoke to Pearce. “Sir, dispatch is going to call and ask why we stopped—“

A gunshot rang out, followed by a thunk and a slow wheeze of air. The truck slowly began tilting at one corner.

“Flat tire,” Pearce said. “Tell ‘em we’ll be back on the road in five. Open the doors.”

“Eli,” Sherry rushed her words, “we’re right behind you. We can help you out, you just need to hold off on using your powers.”

“Hold off?” Eli hissed. “Pearce is right there!”

“Don’t do this alone,” she countered. “Hold for Banneker’s signal.”

Eli frantically built out illusions of two more standing guards just before the doors swung open.

“Bring him out.” Pearce waved. Eli grabbed Ambrose, dragged him across the metal floor, and tossed him onto the road at Pearce’s feet. Two tiny energy pulses from his fingers ensured the doors swung shut behind him, hiding the unconscious agents inside.

The two agents from the front of the truck maintained a nervous distance as Pearce scowled at his prey on the gravel, then pushed him onto his back with his heel. The amount of blood covering Ambrose made a smirk twist on Pearce’s face.

“This man was killed in the raid,” he said, turning to the agents. “Died of his injuries en route. Are we clear?” When they didn’t respond right away, he pointed to the tablet in one of their hands. “Put it in the report. Now.”

“Yes, sir.” As they typed, Pearce reached for the gun at his side. Panicked energy surged to Eli’s fingers unbidden, his body quickly separating from his mind again.

“Hold for Tom, Eli!”

Pearce pointed the gun at Ambrose. Eli’s hands shot up.

Then a hum rushed past his ear, and Pearce’s head snapped back from an invisible strike. As he staggered away from Ambrose, blood gushed from his forehead.

And behind the truck, gunfire flared, bullets rattling against metal.

“Sir!” One agent grabbed Pearce’s arm, while the other reached for his gun. Eli ripped loose an energy surge, catching them all mid-motion and flinging them far off their feet. As their bodies crashed to the asphalt, he crouched behind the closest wheel and glanced around it. Agents from the second armored truck were pouring out the doors—but instead of running towards Eli, they were aiming for a car that had skidded to a diagonal halt on the other end of the bridge.

“Two shooters behind the car, move around this way!”

“I got eyes on—“

More gunfire rattled the horde, and they all ducked. One agent off to the right shrieked and stumbled against another invisible impact to the head.

“Sherry, Grim,” Eli reached for his earpiece, panic seizing his lungs again, “Tom and two guns won’t be enough, you need to get out of here.”

“Just get Ambrose the neutralizer!” Sherry shouted. “You’ve got one minute before he—“

Gunfire ripped through the car, and both shooters dove down. Eli staggered back to his feet, away from the wheel. He took one look at the truck before him, then swung his hands back up and shoved out as much energy as he could.

With an echoing boom, the truck went flying forward, and Eli went flying back. Metal screeched against metal as the vehicle slammed into the second truck, crushing some agents, scattering others. Those able to escape its shadow wheeled towards Eli, then immediately ducked again as shots rang out from the car once more.

As the crossfire started up again, Eli stumbled to his feet and shook out his hands. They no longer felt so distant from him, nor so disconnected—but the current of icefall in his veins suddenly ran thin and erratic, like an interrupted signal. “Come on, come on, just a little longer…”

As he turned towards Ambrose, a bullet whistled past his throat. One of the agents had staggered to their feet, gun pointed at Eli, a transmitter in their hand.

“I’ve got another one of them back here—“

Eli dug up his remaining energy to send a pulse snapping into the ground beside the agent. A white sliver of light, bleary and broken, cracked the earth and sent the gunman flailing over the side of the bridge. They hung in the air for one sickening second before plummeting into the steep valley below.

A rough gasp dragged Eli’s attention back from the empty air and the fuzzy pain in his hands. Ambrose was awake again, weakly clutching at his throat, his eyes fixated on the sky. His glow had faded, leaving faint traces of color streaking through his temples.

“Ames!” Eli skidded to his knees, set one hand under Ambrose’s head, and pulled the neutralizer out of Ambrose’s pocket. “I’m sorry, but it’s past time you take this—“

The vial exploded in his hand in a burst of glass and sludge. Eli fell back with a yelp as shards embedded themselves into his palm in a score of tiny, slashing burns.

“Valenz,” Pearce spat. Eli looked up to find the man pointing his gun at where the vial once was, his forehead still bleeding. “Didn’t take much to turn you, did it?”

Pearce strode forward. Eli whipped up his other hand—to freeze, push, do anything—but the icefall fizzled, and nothing came.

“No no no—“

He flinched too late. Pearce’s foot slammed into his stomach, stealing his breath and sending him doubling over. As he bent forward, the man’s heel cracked against his head, and he reeled into the stinging rock of the asphalt. Broken glass sliced into his cheek, and his vision blurred.

Then a hand grabbed his hair and yanked him upwards.

“Don’t worry, I’m not killing you just yet.” Pearce threw him back onto the road and circled around Ambrose, his shoes little more than dark smudges in Eli’s shifting vision. “I’ll let you watch first.”

“Ambrose,” Eli dragged himself forward, rock and glass digging into his arms, blood rushing in his ears, “Ambrose, get him!”

As Pearce’s gun swung upward, so did Ambrose’s hand.

Pearce took a half-step back, but it was too late—his heel froze before it touched the ground. Ambrose slowly pushed himself to his feet, palm still extended, eyes flashing white against the blood painting his face. The remaining light in his veins shuddered and jolted.

“You’re not killing me that easily,” he hissed, and flexed his fingers. Energy rippled out from them—but instead of pushing Pearce back, it wrapped around his neck. All the agent could do was widen his eyes in terror as Ambrose lifted him off the ground, then whipped him over the railing, into the open air and empty sky.

Ambrose kept him hovering there, frozen and alone, before dropping his arm and letting him plummet. Even as the man’s screams faded, he remained standing there, his back to Eli.

As the gunfire behind them silenced, Eli felt his own neutralizer sitting heavily in his pocket, and he fumbled to pull it out.

“Ames,” Eli’s bloodied hands slipped on the cap, “I—I know you don’t want to, but before we get out of here, you have to take this. If you don’t, your heart will—“

Ambrose collapsed onto the road.