Heaven.

Nope. Nada. No way. That didn't happen. How could it have happened?

Every battered bone seems to creak the words with me. The air is stuffy and thick, the little shop squeezing all the oxygen out of my lungs. My teeth gnash against the inside of my lips, my heart straining against my ribs, my eyes pinned open against the searing heat behind my skull. I growl deep in my throat and hold a shaky breath, Fallout scooping Poison in his arms like a little kid. The remorse, the horror, it's all clear on the villain's face. Something about it makes my chest go tight, makes me think of Angel. 

Natalie shuffles through the door, her mask hanging lopsided on her face. Smart girl, coming back instead of trying to take Owl on by herself. Kepler bats her leg and wines. I force a weak smile. My knuckles hurt from squeezing. My insides feel ripped raw, the loneliness of death, followed by coming so close to taking my friends back home, all to find it for nothing. For them to be pulled away from me. For Gats to take my hand and try to drag me to Owl. She took him from me. She hurt him and molded him into her little pet.

He's not her little pet.

And Angel's not hers to take.

My wrists already ache from the cuffs, though the pain is slight compared to the sting in my chest. I suck in a breath. She won't get away this time.

Poison twitches. "Ceres." His voice is raspy and weak. It barely sounds out. "I have to get him. We need him."

Fallot brushes his fingers through his son's burned feathers. Poison looks over his shoulder at me, his chin tucked against his father's neck, his eyes cloudy with a sort of wistfulness that looks foreign on him. The pain doesn't seem to fit his cocky demeanor, his ceaseless jerk-er-y.

"Why did you do that," I ask Fallout, my teeth still gnashed together so my words come out an angry growl. If he hadn't held me, I could've chased after them. Maybe I could've saved Angelos and Gats, too. I pace. "Fallout, we need to get them."

He forces a smile. Now, in the dim light of morning, he looks so young. I blink a couple of times and shake my head. His eyes are bright, his wrinkles gone, his graying hair no as black and shiny as Angel's. Could be from his powers. "We have to wait." His voice is smooth and taut from stress as he fidgets with his fingers. "Figure something out. You can't take her head on, kid, and you know it." His jaw's squarer than Angel's, his cheekbones sharper, and in his youth he looks handsome. The observation makes me want to kick myself, even when the orange-haired girl pops her head through the door, spots Fallout and whistles with two fingers. 

He shoots her a look and her face flushes red. Then she touches her fingers to the holes in her sweater and smiles, her lashes batting.

"Where were you?"

"Sir?" She laughs and tosses her hair out of her eyes, all her weight crooked on one hip like a teen pop star. "I and Mathias decided to stay out of the way of your flames. Some of us can't handle the heat." She licks her lips and smirks, an eye traveling appreciatively up the curves of his body, settling on his shoulders, his neck, where a ragged scar cuts down his throat. Poison squirms and rubs the dirty streaks off his face with the back of his sleeve, kicking out of his father's grip. My eyes dart around the room for something to free my hands with. If I'm saving Angelos, I might have to do it alone. Jaylin looks at me. I can't hold her gaze.  Angry at her, at the villains, at the world. Anger hasn't gotten me anything to show for it, except a few white strands of hair at sixteen. I drop my eyes to the floor and breathe out in low heaves, just concentrate on the smooth motions of my chest, rising and falling, rising and falling, like a low tide. My jaw relaxes.

"You can't help it, can you?"

Jaylin is still on her knees. She stays silent, and I know I'm right. I don't have time to bask or really much time to elaborate. She looks guilty, on the floor like that, her hands folded neatly in her lap. Her eyes are dull, her mouth twisted into a tight grimace. "I can do whatever I—"

"You're still one of them. You play by their rules. You don't want to cause a scene."

She bounces to her feet. "I'm just showing some respect."

"Owl doesn't deserve your respect, Jaylin." My heart pounds against my chest, a tingly heat warming from the base of my spine all the way up the back of my neck. I don't know how I feel about Jaylin, whether I like her or love her or dislike her or hate her. Right now, the hatred, the anger, it's all been purged. I'm tired of it. All I feel is resolve. We're going to break the cycle. We're ending this, for good.

And the emptiness, the ease of letting go, it feels good. I draw in another quick gasp and roll back my shoulders.

Her eyes widen for just a second, and then she props her hand on her waist. "Oh, I get it, you expect me to respect you instead. Do you tell me what to do now instead of her?" She jabs her finger into my chest, leaned in so close her breath is hot against my skin. Her free hand flourishes in the air, quivering there. We both now she's been caught, that her accusation doesn't make any sense, and for a second we just look at each other, every muscle in her face drawn up tight, her chest heaving as she takes short, frenzied gasps. Her eyes are still flashing, and I just shrug back. 

She melts back to her knees as if she doesn't have the strength to stand. "You hate me. I was going to turn you in, you know, so I could get Angelos back." The little laugh she makes is so harsh it sounds more like a bark. "But that didn't work out, obviously. Instead, I saved your life. Don't make me regret it," she snaps. 

Somehow, I don't mind her plans to betray me. If anything, I find myself admiring them, because I would probably do the same. Seal my trust. Hand me over to my enemy so Angelos could go back to his apartment and hum to himself and cook and finish his homework. I care about him more than I care about myself, and can blame Jaylin for feeling the same? I shake my head.

"No. I guess not. Besides, Gats beat you to the handing me over part anyway." I crack my lips into a smile even though it hurts. It's time to make amends. She hurt me. I hurt her. But we don't have time to care, now, do we? Maybe when we're old ladies with as many cats as the shelter will give us and libraries full of first editions, I'll smack her on the side of the face with my cane for being such a jerk to Angel. Until then, I'm going to get along with her. Even when she doesn't want to get along with me. "Just, next time, can you try kicking Owl in the shins or something? I could use the help."

Poison hits the floor on both feet. I see him slouch out of the corner of my eye, the edge of my lips twitching into the closest thing to a smile I can make it. Jaylin sighs and rubs her forehead, pacing back and forth, back and forth, until she encloses me in her circles. It doesn't make me nervous, not really, but my hands itch to grab for my hips, to settle there and make me look a little more hero-like. Owl said Starlight would burn. No. Not on my watch. Not while I'm still the superhero of the city.

"That wouldn't do anything. She can make up illusions, she can regrow cut limbs, she doesn't really burn all that bad." Jaylin groans into her hands. "And oh, God. I'm hungry."

Poison stretches a hand over my shoulder, his fingers hanging limply at my elbows.

"Don't touch me," I say, maybe a little too snappily to someone who just had an entire limb burned to ash. A stab of guilt cuts me from behind my chest.

"Don't touch her," Jaylin adds, her eyes half-lidded and a hand cupped over her yawning mouth. His face is still streaked with tear-marked, even if he tried to hide them. He steadies his breath against me, his free hand playing with my cuffs. I feel Fallout's eyes on my back as he tells off his follower for leering at him.

"Heat!" he shouts. "You want heat? I'll show you heat!" But his heart isn't in all the yelling. There's a softness to it, a sort of melancholy tone. The sound of regret. He won't pull out those flames again, not after what he did to his son. Poison whimpers to himself, probably from another wash of pain. His wings always looked so delicate. I wonder if his healing factor kicks in for them, or if they have to grow back on their own. They're different than other body parts. Inorganic. Unnatural. 

"Whatever, girls." He tries to even his voice out, but it sounds off. The purr is gone, along with the smoothness that made my heart beat uncomfortably fast. Instead, he sounds like a kid trying to impersonate a voice too big for him. It's squeaky. Broken. "I-I just thought you'd want to know I can get Luci—Angelos, back." He yawns in my ear, and I try not to gag from the stench of his burnt wing.  My knees go a little weak, my pulse pounding against the cuffs.

"Yeah?" I try to force down the urgency in my voice, and then I give up. My city's in trouble, and Owl has my best friends. Natalie creeps into the huddle, Kepler The Friendly Wolf tagging along at her feet. The animal cocks her head at me, her eyes glowing in the fading shadows. "Really. Jay and I are open for suggestions."

He groans through his teeth, his good wing fluttering while the other sags to the floor. The room still reeks of smoke, and I choke back a cough. He twirls his finger in the chain between my wrists, raising it up on my skin. I glower at the floor and try to think of something normal, something like my seventeenth birthday to anchor myself. Like, look! Get some patience, woman. You're turning seventeen, and you have to save millions of people from Owl and her psycho followers. And while you're at it, get a grip, too! "I have a tracker on him."

I blink. "What?"

"I have a friend, kind of a bit of a genius. He, uh, made a tracker for Angelos and hooked it into his phone." He drops the cuffs and traces the scars on my arms. "I just locked myself out, so..."

His eyes are puffy with new tears and it takes his threat level down by a couple of notches. He clears his throat. "If we find him, we can find Angelos."

Jaylin snaps her fingers by her temple. The air is thick with tension, the words coming out awkward and empty. "Your friend? The guy named after the goddess, right? Demeter, or something—"

He glares. "His name is Ceres."

"The same goddess, hon. Who cares?"

I roll my neck, my shoulders, anything to shake the creeping staleness from my limbs. His fingers still linger on my skin, and I can't find enough energy in me to even feel uncomfortable. I have to learn to deal. Natalie holds her belt, staring holes into her shoes. Jaylin and Poison glare at each other, tensed as if preparing for a fight. Not that they will. No time, and no one's in the mood anymore. My wrists flex against the cuffs.

"Alright," I say. "Let's find this guy, then. You heard Owl's threat. We don't have much time."

"Do we have a plan?" Natalie's voice is so soft it barely carries, even in the dead silence. Fallout and his lackeys haven't said a word in minutes, resigned to listening to our sulking. The little looks down at me, her head at a gentle tilt so her ponytail slides down her shoulder, strands of blonde hair slicked to her neck with sweat.

I force my head straight, my teeth ground down again. I have to unset my jaw, and it already hurts. My smile is fake and must look it, but I'm going to at least try to pretend I have my "spit" together. I'm qualified for saving Starlight City. Totally. "We make it up as we go along, sweetie." I would ruffle her hair, but my hands are still cuffed. "Now, does anyone know how to break these things?" I jangle the chain. "We've got some kicking butt to do." I lean back on my heels and toss my hair back, trying, failing to look the confident I don't feel.

Looking at the faces around me, I can tell no one buys it. But we have a start, and right now, that's all that matters.