A/N: Chap 17 review responses in my forums for those who care. As some background, psychic screams are psychic. She didn't blow the car up.
Chapter Eighteen: Actions and Consequence
Taylor woke up in a fetal ball, conscious of a whole host of small pains that totaled up to a pounding, breathtaking headache. She opened her eyes onto darkness. Reaching toward her face, her fingers encountered something hard. Wait…
Her mask. She turned her helmet until it sat properly on her head. While the tinting on the outside prevented anyone from seeing her face, from the inside the tint was barely visible and let her see the dim interior of the flipped limousine perfectly.
Some of the crushing pain was explained by the unconscious form of Bastard Son on top of her. The fucker still had his hand caught in the belt around her waist. With an angry growl and unshed tears of rage, she gripped his wrist and yanked it out.
Well, at least she had control of her body again.
"Yuki, you okay?"
"I wet myself," came the trembling reply.
"Yeah, don't worry about it. Bastard Son did too. Are you hurt?"
"No. Not…not badly. Just bruises, I think. My head hurts."
It took the Force for her to get Bastard Son off. She stood up in the limousine, only to see she'd pushed the asshole onto Nonpareil, who in turn was on top of Yuki. She levitated both off long enough for Yuki to regain her feet.
"Why'd they do that?" Yuki's voice was still shaken from shock. "I thought we were a part of the Elite?"
Rather than answer, Taylor removed one of her lightsabers and with a flick and a turn of her wrist cut a hole in the roof of the car. She stepped through onto cracked pavement and the sight of a collapsed convenience store from Leviathan's attack.
"Fuck, we didn't even make it out of the Exclusion Zone," she muttered.
"That means we're close to home," Yuki said.
"Let's get out of here."
A deep voice suggested otherwise. "You'd better not."
Taylor spun about, both blades ignited and at the ready, as Obsidian walked unsteadily around the hood of the flipped car. Blood glistened on his upper lip and the sides of his ears. "You better not walk away." It didn't sound like a threat, but rather a warning.
"What do you mean?"
He wiped his nose and grimaced at the blood, before pointing to the car.
"That's Bastard Son in there. You just fucking knocked out Bastard Son. You think he's going to forgive you, or just let you walk away? He comes to, he's going to have a fucking army after you. Those two guys up front with me? I've seen them knock bullets out of the air with those bats. Not one or two bullets, but a fucking machine gun. And he can make as many of those boys as we wants."
"You're telling me to kill him."
Obsidian met her gaze squarely. "I'm telling you that if you don't, you'll be dead by tomorrow. I'm telling you he came here to hurt you. To punish Gabriella for breaking the rules by breaking her pet."
"Aren't you on his side?" Yuki asked.
He snorted. "Nobody's on that fucker's side. Besides…you're not bad. You heal people. And I don't go for his type of shit. Not on you, not anyone. Now, I'm gonna get out of here. I'm gonna tell my boss that one of that fucker's minions caused a wreck and the car blew up before I could get you two. You weren't here."
The large, powerful man began stumbling away, cursing and wiping the blood from his nose and ears. He didn't look back.
"Taylor, what do we do?" Yuki asked.
Rather than answer, Taylor looked down at herself. Her costume was in total disarray, exposing her stomach. When she looked at Yuki, she saw that Nonpareil had been stymied by her under suit.
"These were supposed to be our allies," Taylor muttered. "I trusted them. I trusted Entourage."
She could feel the capes drawing closer to consciousness, and as they did, she felt the sense of danger in the Force grow. She expanded her senses throughout the side-ways car, just like she did with Dragon's transport, until she felt what she wanted.
"If we're going to do it, we need to make it look right." She held out a hand and levitated the limousine up a few feet off the ground. It spun it around until it faced the other way, and then rotated it until the other side faced down. She let it drop with a loud, heavy thud of crumpling metal. From within, she heard a groan.
I have to do this. For Yuki's sake as much as mine. With a thought, she pulled the fuel line free and then poured energy into the metal around the tank. She could feel the metal heating until finally the fuel line ignited.
"Come on," she said.
Yuki, sensing what was happening, followed Taylor. They managed to get a few hundred feet away with the fuel tank finally exploded.
"Keep going," Taylor said when her friend stopped to look behind her.
Meanwhile, she started sorting out her costume. The light of the burning car made their shadows stretch out in a sinister fashion down the cracked, abandoned streets. Once she'd gathered herself, she pulled out her phone. Somehow, the protective box she had it in worked; the phone wasn't damaged.
She called her boss.
"Quintessence? Are you at the Parley, yet?"
Taylor should have lied. She should have told Entourage that Bastard Son never showed up. Obsidian was right, it was the safest thing she could do, both for herself and Yuki. The only reason she didn't was because of the absolute rage that burned inside her gut. Not just at Bastard Son—but at the betrayal his attack implied.
"You know, getting raped wasn't in your recruitment brochure," she said in a flat tone that barely betrayed the emotions burning inside. "I'm not sure I'd have been so quick to sign up if I knew the other members of your band thought they could assault me and my partner any time they wanted."
"Taylor, what happened? What are you talking about?"
"I'm talking about Nonpareil making us defenseless while Bastard son tried to…!" She couldn't make herself sat it. "I trusted you, Gabriella! I trusted you, and this is the way Elite treats me?"
"Oh shit. Just…wait…fuck!"
Not even a second later, Gabriella was in front of them. At least, a clone was. Taylor felt no Force presence from it, but the woman's clone was fully sentient. She was dressed in loose jeans and a T-shirt, as if she'd been relaxing at home. She rushed forward, unmasked, only to stop when a scintillating blue blade of magnetically contained plasma seared through the air in front of her.
"Stay away from me," Taylor shouted.
Gabriella looked over Taylor's shoulder at the burning car. "Oh fuck," the clone said. "Oh Jesus, oh fuck, did you kill them?"
"The fire killed them. I just didn't pull the fuckers out."
Gabriella ran her hands through her hair, an expression of utter horror on her face.
"They were both governors. Holy fuck, they were both governors, Taylor! Don't you understand? Why'd you have to kill them?"
The growl that emerged from her throat surprised even her as she lashed out, grasped the clone in her power, and yanked Gabriella to within an inch of her face. "Because…they…tried…to… RAPE me."
The clone was perfect—an exact duplicate of the real Gabriella Vargas. Everything the clone experienced would return to the original when she dissipated. So, when her eyes bulged in fear, Taylor knew it was as good as threatening her patron.
"Um, Obsidian did say he'd lie for us," Yuki pointed out hesitantly.
"What?" Entourage had to gasp the word out.
"Obsidian," Yuki said. "He walked away. He told us he'd say he never reached us and that it was an accident."
Gabriella nodded, almost frantically. "Yeah. Yeah, that might work. We say it was an accident."
"Why would you care?" Taylor said.
"You don't fucking get it!" Gabriella screamed. "Fuck! Jesus fuck! Don't you understand? I was your patron. What you do reflects on me, and you just killed two governors of the Elite! You just killed Bastard Son! Not even Alexandria could kill him. It won't just be you they come after, it'd be me too!"
"Did you know?"
"Of course not!" Gabriella threw her hands up in the air. "I lost my fucking city trying to help you, Taylor! Didn't you hear what Agnes told me? I gave Portland up because I thought you were worth it!" She spun away and grabbed her hair with both hands. "Fuck, I need to think. Think. Think, Gabby, damn it. Use your head."
Taylor realized quickly her 'patron' wasn't even talking to her at that moment.
Abruptly Gabriella spun around. "The parley. Holy fuck, they were…they were after both of us. If you don't make the parley, the other gangs won't honor your neutrality. Nonparail accepted your invitation on behalf of Elite. If you don't show, that means the other gangs think Elite won't have your back. Go! Get to your car. I'll meet you at your place. Run!"
The clone disappeared with the sound of a popping balloon.
"Taylor?"
"She's right. Run!"
Never had Taylor been so happy to have started exercising. She could feel Yuki drawing on the Force as the two sprinted the two blocks back to their church. They didn't even bother with the clinic—instead they ran around to the back where the car was parked.
Gabriella was there, a whole new clone this time dressed in a beautiful, form-fitting teal dress with a purse around her shoulders and a black mask hiding her face. "Wait…what's that smell?"
Fuck. Taylor looked at Yuki, who blushed. "I wet myself," the smaller girl said. Taylor opened herself up in the Force to her partner, and what she felt left her almost as shaken as the attack.
"Yuki's done for the night," Taylor said. "Go inside, Yuki. Have a long bath. I'll be okay, you did great." It was hard to get the words out and sound like she meant them.
Yuki shivered. "But you need me…"
"I need you to be safe. And you need a bath, some ice cream, and some cartoons. Go inside. I'll be fine, and I'll be back."
"We have to go," Gabriella said. She wasn't quite hissing, but her voice shook with urgency.
Taylor climbed in to the car and pulled out. Yuki remained in impromptu garage, staring at them as they pulled away.
"Just drive, I'll give you directions," Gabriella said. In a minute they were speeding past the burning limousine. A second after that, they passed Obsidian. Rather than stop or try to halt them, he simply gave the car a salute as they sped past.
"Don't worry about him, Masquerade will take care of him," Entourage said. She released a strangled, semi-hysterical laugh. "The Parley's at the Ferry Bar, near where the old memorial bridges used to be. We'll have to keep going south until we reach the 1st Avenue Bridge, then head west."
After a few tense minutes of driving, Entourage cleared her throat.
"Taylor, I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry for this. I should have known Nonpareil would have tried something like this. You don't get to be a governor of the Elite by being nice. When I recruited you, it was because I was sure you'd be a valuable addition to the Elite. We advance in the organization by recruiting powerful members, and I just knew with you at my side my long-term position would improve. But I screwed up—I stepped on Nonpareil's toes to get you. And he doesn't forgive."
"And Bastard Son?" Taylor felt proud of how even she kept her voice.
"He just…he likes hurting people. He doesn't care why or how."
"Did he ever try that with you?"
The older woman met Taylor's gaze without flinching. "The Elite…we're like Feudal lords from the Middle Ages. Within each governor's realms, they're like kings. And the people under them are serfs. My power is long term clone projection. I'm not a brute, I don't have super strength or speed. Agnes told me early on that I'd have to fend for myself unless he actually tried to kill me, because they don't want governor's clashing. So when he came I…I sacrificed a clone of myself and…" Her breath caught. "Cutting off one of my clones so I don't get the memories back feels like sawing off one of your fingers with a butter knife. I did it anyway. Like I said, I should have known. Agnes warned me there would be a price. I just thought…"
She turned and stared out the window. "I thought I'd be the one to pay the price, not you."
They reached the 1st Avenue South Bridge and crossed over into South Seattle, driving through the mostly abandoned southern industrial district. Taylor read in more than one spot that the Endbringers usually had specific targets. Leviathan's target was Seattle's infrastructure. Waves of water twenty feet high swept down the Dwamish channel, sweeping away most of Seattle's industrial district, before the monster even hit down town.
Finally, they approached the spot of the Ferry Bar. She could see bridges protruding partway out into Lake Washington, toward Mercer Island, but neither were complete. She saw cranes in the distance, inactive with the darkness.
"Who's going to be there?" Taylor asked as they pulled in to the parking lot. The lot was filled with motorcycles, limousines and Cadillacs. Her little economy sedan looked wildly out of place.
"The four big area gangs, maybe a few minor groups. And a Protectorate spokesperson."
Taylor stumbled as they got out. "Protectorate? Why?"
"They called the parley. It wasn't originally about you, but we're going to bring your neutrality up. It's too good of a chance."
As they climbed out, Taylor was startled to see another clone of Entourage walking toward them in the exact same teal dress the first wore.
"Good news, they haven't hit anything major yet, just the SoR and Ovambo sniping at each other."
With that, the new clone popped away, leaving just Taylor and the first clone.
"Remember, you are Elite," Entourage said just outside the door.
"Am I? Still?" Should I be?
Entourage turned and met Taylor's eyes squarely. "I'll make sure of it, with everything I have."
With that, she opened the door and stepped inside.
Her first impression of the place left Taylor shaken. She'd thought the Ferry Bar was named because it was by a ferry. But the statue of a hairy man in assless leather chaps in a pink tutu and fairy wings just inside the door, holding a massive blue vibrator like a wand, made her quickly reassess her understanding of the place.
"Holy fuck, that looks like it would hurt," she muttered. "The villains neutral meeting spot is a gay bar?"
Entourage chuckled darkly. "This is Seattle. Just go with it."
The statue ended up being the least explicit piece of art in the bar. Taylor couldn't help but star around her, fighting to keep her jaw shut. "Out of costume, it wouldn't even be legal for me to be in this place," she muttered.
"For God's sake, don't let them know that. These are very bad people, Quintessence. If you show any weakness at all, they will destroy you."
The switch to her cape name was a solid reminder of where they were, and why they were there.
The dance floor was empty. A pair of disco balls hung from the ceiling on either side of a large…piece of art. Entourage led them across the floor, ignoring the all-male bar staff that watched them without comment, until they reached the entrance to a private room on the far side of the building.
There were four guards in front, talking casually as if they weren't foot-soldiers from competing gangs. Taylor almost stumbled when she saw the Familia guard was the very same man who came in with his Abuela. The Tekiya guard was in a suit and tie, just like those who accosted her in her clinic the first day.
Of the other two, one was a hulking, bearded white man with cross tattooed on his left cheek and a Confederate flag tattoo on his right forearm. The fourth was a man whose skin looked almost as black as Obsidian. He wore slacks and a tactical vest and watched the other three suspiciously.
It was the Familia guard who greeted them first.
"Quintessencia," he said. "You're late."
"A communications error with my organization, nothing to be concerned about," Entourage said. She managed to sound completely at ease. "I'm Entourage with the Elite. Here with Quintessence."
The Tekiya guard opened the door onto a scene from a bad crime drama.
A group of mostly men sat around a large poker table littered with drinks, cards and poker chips. The air was so thick with smoke, cigarette and other, that Taylor found herself depending on the Force to stifle a cough.
One of the men at the table stood as they entered—the Uwibami of the Tekiya, Taylor realized. He didn't wear his full, stylized mask. Instead, he wore a red, dragon-shaped half-mask that left his mouth bare. A tailored three-piece suit completed his costume.
"Entourage," he said, evidently knowing Gabriella. "Nonpareil was supposed to be here with the Bastard."
"And I apologize for that," Entourage said with a sweet smile as she sashayed further into the room. She liked so smoothly Taylor found herself believing her for a moment. "There must have been a communications mix-up, because they never showed up and they aren't returning my calls. I have to assume whatever distracted them was important. It would have to be to miss this meeting."
"The fuck's the point if the real Elite aren't here?"
The speaker was a living bear of a man. Though he sat, Taylor had no doubt just from his torso that he was as tall as Obsidian with twice the girth. It wasn't fat, though. He wore a denim chest tinkling with various medals and pins over a bare chest that revealed vastly muscled, hairy arms and chest hair so thick he looked bestial. His beard was thick, lined with gray, and he had a massive iron cross tattooed over his bulging, rock-hard stomach.
"Oh, I speak for Elite, Grizzly. The Governors know I'm here and have full confidence in me."
The massive man slowly stood, and Taylor had to change her mind. He was taller than Obsidian, towering close to seven feet.
"I don't see no governors here," he said. "The Bastard I could respect. Some little duplicating whore? You ain't earned shit from me, or a place at this table."
Taylor remembered what Entourage had said about her powers. She was a perfectly normal human except for her long-range teleportation. She had no offensive powers other than whatever weapons she brought with her.
Taylor drifted to her patron's side. Entourage wasn't scared because she could cancel the clone any time, but she was concerned. Taylor acted on that concern.
"And what would we have to do to earn that respect?" Taylor said. "Kill you? Wipe out your gang? Or maybe slaughter a hundred Russian special forces and wipe out the American Bratva. Would that earn your respect?"
With the Force, it was easily to manipulate the air so that her voice carried throughout the room. The various conversations among the lackies and minor gangs came to a sudden halt as everyone in the room heard her.
"The fuckin' healer?" Grizzly snorted. "You're threatening me, little girl?"
"She asked you a question, pendejo."
The new speaker was also a huge man, though smaller than Grizzly by a fair margin. He wore a red and black luchador mask and a short white cape over a skin-tight wrestling costume woven to look almost like a matador's costume.
"Tekiya will confirm Quintessence's claim," the Uwibami said. "We know she was responsible for the Bratva's fall at Industrial West. She and hers have a right at the table."
"Seconded," Luchador-mask said. Taylor realized the man had to be El Matador, the head of the Mexican gang.
"Then that's settled," Entourage said with a pleased smile. "Quintessence is a member of the Elite under my patronage. She has the full support of the Governors, with direct approval from Agnes Court herself. While I know it wasn't the primary purpose of this meeting, when the primary business is done we wish to discuss a declaration of neutrality for her clinic."
She and Taylor sat at the table between the Uwibami and El Matador, facing Grizzly and a thin, wrinkled African man in a fez and white tunic. The man's eyes were rheumy behind his wooden half-mask.
"When Primary business is done," Uwibami agreed with a nod. "Until then, we appear to all be gathered. So, to business. Protectorate, say what you will."
Taylor turned in surprise to see the head of the local protectorate, Gasconade, step away from a shadowed corner of the room. He appeared at first like a perfectly normal, somewhat handsome blonde man in jeans and a polo. Except that from the side, he looked like a 2-dimensional cutout of the same. His breaker state made him nearly impervious to her power, but also isolated from the rest of the world. Something about him, though, made the Force buzz uncomfortably in her mind.
"Thank you for coming," Gasconade said. His voice sounded normal. "I won't waste your time by telling you how much I appreciate being here. All of you suck, and you hate me. But two years ago we called a truce and took on a common enemy that threatened the entire northeast. That threat has emerged again."
Uwibami leaned back in his chair. "We never did find Overmind. She has risen again?"
"In Portland, yes," Gasconade said. "The Portland PRT and Protectorate teams engaged a force of cybernetically enhanced humans and suffered catastrophic losses. Three heroes dead, over fifty PRT agents gone. Shortly thereafter, Overmind's forces attacked and subsumed three villain gangs. Dragon has estimated she has forces of nearly a thousand enhanced people and she's actively converting more. We're on the verge of having to evacuate the city."
"Under Title 28 of the US Code, the attorney general of the United States, in conjunction with the PRT, has declared Overmind to be an S-class threat. Justice Allonde issued a warrant authorizing the execution of Overmind by any parties. Along with the kill order, the PRT has issued a bounty of $1,000,000 on Overmind. Additionally, Legend has personally authorized my presence here to offer a truce for anyone who joins in an offensive to remove this S-class threat from the Northeast."
"About fucking time," Grizzly muttered. He grabbed a bottle of Jack Daniels and guzzled half the bottle like water. "If you fuckers did that the first time, the bitch wouldn't have gotten away!"
"Yes, well, as you all know, the Protectorate and PRT can be more forgiving that we probably should be." The hero glanced around the room. "In return for your efforts, the PRT and Protectorate offer a blanket truce for one full month. So long as you honor the truce, we would too. Assuming, of course, that you accept."
"Oh, fuck yeah, the Sons of the Republic are in," Grizzly said. "Fucking bitch took twenty of mine last time."
"Si. La Familia will fight. Maybe we get the bounty, yes?" Matador laughed as if that were the funniest of jokes.
"Ovambo will not fight," the old man said. His accent was lyrical, almost as if he were chanting or even singing the words. "She was one of ours, before you made her a monster. But we will honor the truce."
A few of the minor gangs spoke up, offering to fight. But as the declarations went around the room, Taylor felt more and more eyes on her and Entourage.
"I'll join," Taylor finally said. "I won't speak for the Elite, but for myself I'll fight. And after, I'll provide free healing for anyone who needs it."
"Thank you," Gasconade said. He didn't sound all that grateful. In fact, he sounded bored. "Assemble at Longview Junction tomorrow at seventeen hundred hours. Communications equipment will be provided just like in an Endbringer fight. Until then." He nodded, turned and walked out.
The room full of villains immediately started talking loudly, obviously excited about the fight. "Do we have other business?" the Uwibami called.
Taylor felt Entourage about to bring up neutrality when a high-pitched, elderly voice called out, "Yes! Quintessence stole from me! Uwibami, you know I speak truth. Her partner Yurei is mine! She is Tekiya! I want her back!"
As the older, thin Japanese man pushed his way toward the Uwibami, it didn't take a telepath to realize this was Yuki's uncle.
"Oh, this is gonna be good," Grizzly said. "What'chya gonna do, girly?"
She looked to Entourage, but the clone was wearing a poker face.
Taylor was on her own, then. "If she was yours, where were you when the Russians captured her?"
The question didn't phase the man. "She bought her! They bought her fair! If she's free she should have come back to me! She is mine, and I am Tekiya!"
Taylor's stomach twisted at this confirmation of how Yuki came to be in the hands of her captors. "Like you sold her sister?"
Unlike the last question, this one seemed to confuse the man. "What sister? What are you talking about?" He pointed at her and starts shouting. "I am talking about Yurei! She is mine, you give her back now…"
"Uwibami, please silence this worm or allow me to do so," Taylor said. Her voice whipped through the room again, borne by the Force.
The Uncle started; he'd risen a hand to jab toward Taylor but dropped it as her voice overrode his own. The Uwibami looked at the older man to Taylor.
"This man does good work for Tekiya. I hear his complaint. If Yurei belonged to him, then by right she is ours."
"Then ask your servant, Uwibami, if he returned the $5,000 the Russians paid him for her."
"Don't matter!" The uncle cried. "She wasn't cape, then! She cape now! She…"
"Uwibami, let me make matters clear," Taylor said with forced calm. "Yurei is mine. I saved her life, and she in turn saved mine. She is my partner. Her uncle sold her to the Russians. Unless he returned the money to them, then his claim is as empty as his soul. And I am prepared to defend my claim against any who challenge it."
"Oh, I like this girl," El Matador claimed. "What are you gonna do, Dragon man?"
"You would challenge Tekiya?" Uwibami demanded, incredulous.
"For Yurei? I would challenge Scion himself. She's mine."
The Uwibami turned and studied Entourage. "And what does Elite say to this?"
"The Elite believes in fair business. If the Uncle sold Yurei to the Russians, then only the Russians have a claim to her. And it seems to me that Quintessence settled pretty conclusively with the Russians. And, I suppose it doesn't hurt to remind everyone that Quintessence has no Manton limit. She could literally crush your brain in your skull with a look. Just look at Koschei the Deathless. He's a brain-dead vegetable in PRT custody still. The first rule of any conflict—don't fuck with the healers."
Grizzly was no longer smiling, Taylor noted. Instead, he stared at her intently, studying her. To her surprise, the racist bear spoke for her. "The girl's gotta point, Uwibami. A man sells goods, he got no claim on it after. That's business."
"So it is," Uwibami said. "But we cannot ignore the loss of a cape."
"The Uncle received $5000 for her," Taylor said. "I'll pay Tekiya that same amount cash to call this settled."
"More than fair," Matador declared.
With Nuevo Familia's support, Taylor knew she'd won.
"Very well," the Uwibami said. "Tekiya and my people will release all claim to Yurei for $5000."
Taylor didn't hesitate to reach into her pockets and remove the necessary amount—which happened to be all the cash she had on her. She tossed it on the table, only to use the Force to ensure it landed right in front of the other cape.
"Since that is settled, I would also like to bring up a declaration of neutrality for Quintessence's clinic in the North Admiral Exclusion Zone," Entourage said.
"She's not neutral, though," Grizzly noted.
"Her ties to Elite are professional," Entourage noted. "If attacked, rest assured we will defend. But she is first, and foremost, a businesswoman. She's a healer. And having the only parahuman healer in the entire Northwest be neutral is just common sense."
"In return," Taylor said, "I'll heal any of your people for my flat base rate. There are at least two at this table who know I am good for my word. I cannot heal cancer or congenital issues. But infectious disease or injury, I can heal."
"You would heal even Ovumbo?" It was the first time the wizened old black man spoke other than his declaration that his group would no five Overmind.
"So long as you respect my clinic and home as neutral territory, yes. I can fight if I must, but I prefer to heal."
"Does anyone object to this?" The Uwibami looked around the room, not just at the leaders of the three other major gangs, but also at the minor groups around the room that didn't earn a seat at the table.
"The Familia owns most of West Seattle," Grizzly said. "What's to keep 'em from jumping us if we go up to her?"
"For Quintessencia, I would give free passage. Bear a white flag so we know, and you will not be attacked," Matador said magnanimously. "Already, she has healed two of ours. Do not betray our trust, and any may pass through our territory for healing."
"Thank you," Taylor said, nodding toward the leader.
"Since none object, the clinic and home of Quintessence, and the surrounding five blocks, are neutral. No weapons, no fighting. Anyone who violates this rule will face all of us. Are we agreed?"
"Agreed," Grizzly said.
"Agreed," Matador echoed.
"Ovambo agrees," the oldest man at the table said.
"Then my friends, we are adjourned. Parley rules remain in place for the rest of the night, and tomorrow the truce begins."
Entourage led Taylor out through the bar. None of them said anything until they were back at the car.
"You did great," she told Taylor. "I need to go handle the next crises. No matter what, we're going to have to stick to Obsidian's lie."
"We will," Taylor said.
Gabriella took her hand. "I'm sorry. I'm…Jesus fuck, I'm so sorry. I'll make this right somehow. I promise." The clone disappeared.
Taylor sat for the longest time in the car, trying to parse through the evening in her mind. She'd killed four men—Bastard, Nonpareil and Bastard's two empowered mooks. She'd gained neutrality and committed herself to battle with a group she was terrified. She'd almost been violated by a mass murderer.
So why was it that all she could think of, though, was Yurei's uncle. What sister?