Angelos.

"I don't hate you," I tell a trembling Shiro with his thin wrist still clamped in my fist. "But if you wake up Gats or the guardians I'm...I'm gonna hit you, you know, with super-strength."

Half of that's true. I don't hate him. I don't even blame him for trying to kill me. If Owl slept in the room adjacent to mine, wouldn't I try to kill her as well? I mean, killing's bad. I don't condone killing. Don't sue me. But I admire Shiro, because a thousand suckers will tell you they'd murder a tyrant to save innocent lives, but I doubt a single one of them would act on it if given the chance. But Shiro tried, and he was willing to face the consequences. He looks at me, eyes blazing. As black as they are, they're lit up even in my darkened bedroom. He's scared of me. He hates me. But his face is blank as I stumble out of bed, dragging him with me out the open door. All I can really tell by his grimace is that he isn't happy. Shocker.

I fluff my wings and spread them gently, flexing each aching muscle until I can feel the burn in my frown. The veins light up the apartment in a hissing purple halo, and the feathers drape Shiro in shadow.

"I promise there's more to this Syndicate thing than it seems."

"It seems like a lot of kidnapping and torturing to me." Shiro doesn't bother to lower his voice. And I don't bother pretending anymore that I'm gonna hit him. I lead him out of the apartment and let the door sigh shut behind us. We're both wearing pajamas. Him, in the pink-lamb bottoms and white V-neck I saw him sporting this morning. Me, in basketball shorts and an undershirt with slits cut into the back.

"I'm not the one doing it."

"Yeah." Shiro nods, glaring down at my hand squeezing his wrist. "That's what your followers do, don't they? They stabbed my best friend and left her to die."

"Oh." I don't even flinch. Don't even slow my strides. It scares me how hardened I've become, but I don't have time to mull over my angst issues, because we've arrived at Heaven's door. I rap softly, just below the peephole. "Hev?" My voice is a whisper. "Someone just tried to kill me—again."

The door flies open, hitting hard on the nose and smashing me flat against the wall. I make a little yelp, an 'ow,ow,ow' squealed under my breath.

Heaven tears me from behind the door and tugs my cheek, as if checking my face for bruises. "Did they hurt you? Are you okay?"

No more crisp clean shirts and makeup, she's back to wrinkled hoodies and sweatpants that smell like a locker room. Her eyes stop over Shiro and widen. "Did they try to hurt you, too? Angel, you're holding him too tightly! His wrist has gone all red!"

Shiro glances down at his feet, but he only does so a second. Then, he lifts his head and meets her gaze. There's a calmness to his methodical movements, and it's a calmness I have to admire. He carries himself with purpose, like he's considered every move he plans to make. It unnerves me. He must've planned my murder and decided a long time ahead of the attempt that my death was best for everyone; his hesitation was probably only out of the morality of the thing.

"Actually." I lift his hand with the knife in it. Heaven recoils, cringing back into the doorway. Gives me room to squirm past her. Her apartment is all dark and drear, brown furniture fuzzed over with cat fur, and the smell like a kitty litter box. Shiro goes stiff, so I have to drag him into the apartment. When he tries to wriggle free, I pick him up and dump him on the couch. He makes a little cry of pain, and guilt bubbles up in me like mercury. I don't know why superpowers have made me such a brute, don't think I ever manhandled or hurt anyone before.

I don't notice Jaylin lounged across the floor until she whistles at me. "If you aren't the little supervillain."

"Hi." I blink my bleary eyes.

She rises, all slow and slinky. I can only watch her from the corner of my eye, because I'm still glaring at Shiro, who's, I dunno, 5'0, maybe? About as threatening as a bar of chocolate? Her arm curls around my waist and I tense, her fingers roaming up and down my ribs. "What's with the late night visit, babe? And the kid?"

"Murder stuff," I mumble.

Heaven steps forward and lays a hand on Shiro's shoulder. "Who are you? And what's your purpose? Who sent you?"

He holds up his head at a tilt. The veins up and down the side of his neck quivers. "It's Shiro. I saved the mayor's kid up in Spiral city, and she sent me here, because I've always wanted to see Starlight." His eyes glaze over for a second, but then he's calm and quiet. Lucid. He blicks rapidly at the ceiling.

Heaven sighs, running her fingers through her tangles. "Then why would you try to kill the kid of the family providing for you, huh?"

"After everything he's done, I could never live with myself if I didn't." He stares down at his hands. A tear dribbles off his chin and lands in his palm. "It's a sin to kill, but what am I supposed to do? You're a superhero, you tell me. Am I supposed to let a bunch of people die because I didn't?"

"Oh, honey." Heaven sighs again. The more I see her, the more stressed she's become. I keep expecting her hair go white, and when I glance down at her, I notice that her roots are streaked silver. Jaylin's still snuggled up against me, and all I really know is that I'm cold and she's very warm. Her arms, curled around my waist, her cheek pressed to my elbow. "You got some bad information. But it's okay." She waves a hand. "If Angelos doesn't mind, welcome to the would-be murderers club."

I shake my head. Jaylin's still so warm, and my hands are still shaking. The boy I was would never threaten and drag someone. The boy I was wouldn't be cradled and respected by a supervillain. The boy I was would feel more than cold.

"I'm not the bad guy," I say, and it sounds like a plea. I meet Shiro's eyes and I wring my undershirt in my fingertips, all nervous-like, because I don't want him to hate me. "Owl—the supervillain who ran it—she's uh, she's..." I wish I knew how to speak. I wish I didn't sound like an idiot whenever I open my mouth. "...She's my mom. Biological mom, anyway. Gats, you know, my grumpy roommate? He killed her to save Hev. The organization is mine now. I don't know what to do with it."

Shiro squints at my wings. "How do I know this is true?"

"Do I look like a brilliant strategist to you?"

He's still squinting. "Maybe."

"An immortal?"

"I dunno." He shrugs. "Anyone can be an immortal."

I rake my hands through my hair. "If I was, do you think I'd still be in high school?"

Shiro bites his lip, silent. But his shoulders slope to a relaxed little slump. He's probably a little suspicious, but I don't think anyone I know trusts me fully. I tried to kill Heaven and Jaylin, probably more than once, and Gats has tried to kill me, probably more than once. I glance over at Hev. Her hands are stuffed in her pockets, her shoulders slouched. I close my eyes. I don't want to see her face when I deliver the news. "I saw Sarah and Ivy." Big gulp of air. "They told me Poison—Katris—is being tortured."

The sound Heaven makes is a whispered scream. When I gather up the frayed left-overs of my courage, I blink up to see her slumped over on her knees, clutching the nearest Larry to her chest. Larry the Persian claws and mewls, bringing blood to her fingerpads. I rush up to her, but Jaylin is already holding her. So I just kind of stand there, running my fingers over the gooseflesh Jaylin's touch left on my skin. Her warmth is already fading from my flesh. "Well." I swallow hard. "We'll save him, right?"

Jaylin lifts her head. Dark whirls of hair race down the back of her neck and cover her shoulders, hides all but the glints of her eyes. I want to touch her again.

"Kind of what Hev and I planned to do. Good going, Ang. Wrecking girls' night and wrecking Hev."

"Oh." For the first time, I notice Jaylin's matching hoodie, faded gray, and the spiral notebook open across the floor. She hates hoodies. "I...Oh." I scratch the back of my neck. "Well, do you want me to come?"

"No!" noth girls shout, simultaneous. Has me flinching with my hands in front of my face in a boxer's guard. Heaven softens her voice, smiling so widely it has to hurt.

"It'll be dangerous," she says, "you've been through the wringer. Sit this one out."

"Oka—"

"Totally, babe. Lots of danger. Too much for your pretty little skull to take." Jaylin smirks up at me. I still can't get over her use of the word 'pretty'; I keep expecting her to be talking to someone else. Even 'babe' puts me on edge. But I smile anyway, since I should appreciate the miracle that is having a girlfriend. Proof there might be a God, yeah? "How about a kiss for luck?"

I oblige, twice on either cheek, a Gats move if I've ever made one. I rise from my stoop and wave at the boy who's curled on the couch and pulling up threads from the cushions. "Come on Shiro, let's go home." And all I can think, as Shiro stares at his red red red wrist is that Heaven must be right about Toby sleeping like the dead. All night, I've heard only soft snores from the other room. 

Heaven, head hung, smiles sadly. "Yeah. We'll save him. Good night, Angel. Shiro, don't try to kill him, he's a good guy—in more ways than one."

Shiro stares down at his wrist. "Uh-huh." The sarcasm drips.

My heart plummets. I don't want the girls to go on a dangerous mission. I want them to stay here, where they're safe. How am I supposed to live like this? Knowing my best friend and girlfriend are going to get hurt, maybe captured, tortured, while all I can do is offer them a kiss and a dopey smile?

I can't. I can't live like this.

As soon as I lead Shiro back to his couch and his breathing becomes regular under the quilts, I snatch Gats' keys off the bar.

Hev and Jay aren't the only ones who can play this dangerous game.