It doesn’t. It sits there, lying on its back like a dead bug with its big round belly exposed, waiting for the final step. The maz.
I sit back with a sigh of relief and prop my elbow on my knee and my head on my hand, running my fingers through the long side of my hair. My gaze lands on Remi, lying upside down on Davon’s couch with their head hanging beside Jaesin. Their hands twine threads of maz together almost lazily, not even looking at what they’re doing as Jaesin cleans one of the guns and points out its features.
Then Remi looks up, their gaze locking on mine, and my breath stills. Their mouth tugs up at the corner, a faint upside-down smile that pushes a hot flush into my cheeks. I snap my gaze back to the floor, to the drone in front of me, the remembered warmth of this morning like a crackle of static along every inch of my skin.
“What happened while I was asleep this morning?” Ania asks, looking back and forth between Remi and me.
I shake my head, biting my lip to keep the words from spilling out of control. Nothing, really. But also, a lot. It felt like a lot.
“Nothing” is what I finally settle on, because it’s the truth. Nothing actually happened, externally. Internally, this morning felt like cresting the peak of a mountain, and I can finally see the gorgeous terrain sweeping before me, glorious valleys of rich greens and blue sky and the infinite possibility of horizon.
So many possibilities. If we live through tonight.
“Doesn’t look like nothing,” Ania says, studying my expression closely. I draw back, practically hissing like a nocturnal animal caught in the sunlight, scrambling for shadow.
“I’m trying, okay?”
That’s the best I can offer right now.
All the same, when Remi rolls forward off the couch and heads our way, I duck my head and test each of the tiny screws again, desperate for something to occupy my attention.
“How’s the spell coming?” Remi asks, plopping down cross-legged next to Ania.
Ania weaves one final thread into a bare patch in the middle, then severs the flow. “It’s ready for your part. You sure you’ve got this?”
They give Ania a look, one eyebrow raised. Ania holds up her hands.
“I know, I know, I just . . . had to check. It’s all yours.”
Remi slides their hand under the spell, draping it carefully over their opposite arm like a delicate scrap of silk. It’s far too large to fit inside the drone’s belly at the moment, but once Remi’s done with it, the weave will be compact, layered, and dense with pent-up energy. The spell needs to be powerful enough to affect an entire roomful of people, yet fit in the carrying system I devised—no easy feat. It’s a challenge only Remi can manage. For multiple reasons.
I lift my creation slowly, carefully, and deposit it into Remi’s cupped palm, our hands touching skin to skin for longer than strictly necessary. They lift their eyes to mine and quirk a little smile.
“Thanks. Looks perfect.”
“Hope so,” I manage, mouth dry.
Their smile widens, then they step back, heading to the roof to finish off the most dangerous part of the weave. My gaze follows them the whole time, helplessly glued to their retreating form. I couldn’t look away if I tried.
“Definitely not nothing,” Ania murmurs.
I close my eyes and sigh.
“Let’s try to live through tonight, and then we can decide if it’s something or not, okay?”
“Fair enough,” Ania says. She reaches out, draws me to her, and wraps me in a hug. I stiffen, a wave of trapped panic shooting straight up my spine, making me want to curl into myself, protect my soft underbelly.
It doesn’t have to be this way, Remi said.
I take a long breath. Two. Force my muscles to relax. Soften my shoulders. Let the tension uncoil.
It doesn’t have to be this way.
No. It really doesn’t.
One more breath, and I let my arms wind around Ania’s waist and my forehead fall onto her shoulder.
It doesn’t.
After tonight, hopefully I’ll have a chance to prove it.
Twenty-Five
OUR FINAL JOB. FOR REAL, this time. Of course, whether it’s a voluntary retirement or an on-the-job death that ends our heisting career remains to be seen.
Jaesin crouches in front of me, gun in hand, huddled in the nighttime shadows between two buildings. Behind us, Ania and Remi pull long, velvet strands of plum-colored obscuraz between their hands and pass them back and forth, weaving them together. Ania will never be as good a weaver as Remi, but she knows her ware and can work it like a pro, more than well enough to keep up with their shared spell. Together they weave a giant concealment screen, like a cloak to drape over all of us, much stronger than their usual spells. It won’t last long, just long enough to get us across the street and into the alcove holding the employee access, but that’s all the time we need.
And me? I sit there and wait. Torture. My first bit is already done: a simple message calling all MMC board members to a 12:15 a.m. emergency meeting at HQ, made less simple by the fact that I had to plant it on MMC’s servers to make it look like it came from an internal source. I neglected to mention that bit to Davon, just in case his IT manager conscience got in the way.
A notification pops up in my vision.
Davon: We’re all clear. I’m right inside the door. You ready?
You: Almost. Sixty seconds.
Davon went in ahead of us about twenty minutes ago, signing into the work log, registering his badge in the server room to give him an alibi, and scoping out the guard situation ahead of time. With a shimmer, Remi and Ania pull their last threads taut to finish our cover. It slithers like purple-black satin over their fingers, the weave tight and even, somehow seeming to glow with darkness instead of light. It’s hard to look at; I try to make my eyes focus on it, but they keep sliding away. A good thing, considering its purpose.
“Come on, hurry!” Remi says, beckoning us forward. “The fresher the spell, the better, for this formula.”
Jaesin and I dash forward, and the four of us press ourselves together, the crackle of energy from the maz itchy on the back of my neck. We shuffle to the edge of the alley, taking it slow to get the hang of moving together, then step cautiously into the road. Ania has hopelessly terrible rhythm and can’t quite march on step and the rest of us adjust to her as best we can. If one of us gets too far away, the strain could cause the whole spell to collapse.
Of course, a car chooses that moment to come diving down from the traffic lanes overhead, angling in to park on this street.
“Look up,” I whisper, struggling to keep my voice low. Ahead of me, Jaesin stiffens and hisses, “Double time, now!”
The four of us scurry as best we can to the side of the road, reaching the curb just as the car slams down to hover height on the road and continues on through the next intersection, cruising toward a club that’s still open, in defiance of the city’s district-wide closure. There’s no time to stop and ponder our near death, though. As soon as our boots hit the curb, the staff entrance pops open, Davon’s welcome face peeking out from inside.
“Hurry,” he mouths, waving us forward as he looks over his shoulder. A cool relief blooms in my chest at the sight of him, and I smile despite the circumstances. He catches my eye and smiles back, then steps out to allow us to slip past him into the hallway.