I was admittedly wary about following Cassie to another location, but I did feel an odd sense of trust toward her. Kinship, I suppose. Plus it felt like, for the first time in a long while, I had actual evidence of something fishy happening on Bonfire Night beyond my hunches and gut feelings.

  We left Superburger together and hurried on toward Vanguard Park. It was a vast stretch of greenery near the heart of the city, and it was fairly common for teenagers to hang out around there.

  Or so I’d heard. I didn’t exactly have many friends to hang out with.

  We came in through the southern gate, marked by a looming bronze statue of the Protector. One of Argent’s first masks, he stood tall and proud in his flight jacket, puffed-out trousers, and the hemispherical dome of a helmet that covered the top half of his head. The plaque on the statue’s base read:

  Our First Champion

  1937-1989

  The city had not put much effort into keeping the shoulders of its first champion clean of pigeon shit.

  We came to a stop by a small duck pond, and I found myself slowing down and growing tense as I spied three people already waiting for us. “It’s cool,” Cassie insisted. “Told ya my crew would be waiting for us.”

  “Just never saw so many Apexes in one spot before,” I admitted. It made me a little anxious, even if they were theoretically on my side.

  They were teenagers, likely the same age as Cass and myself give or take a year. Two boys and a girl.

  The girl was a little shorter than me and somewhat stocky, dressed in a flannel shirt and acid washed jeans. She sat on one bench, kicking her booted feet back and forth while the breeze fanned her dark hair.

  One of the boys was lanky and skinny, his hair a mop of jet black curls. He regarded the world with sunken eyes, a look of supreme ennui on his slim face. Even his clothes were black, their baggy material doing little to hide his thin physique.

  The other boy was slightly taller and more athletic, his chin marked by wisps of red hair. What he probably assumed could pass as a beard. His face was partially concealed by the shade of his green hoodie, but I could see his eyes were somewhat reddish. That, coupled with the herbal stink that grew stronger as we got closer, left me with no doubt about what kind of guy he was.

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  They did not, at a glance, look like a supervillain crew. Rookies or otherwise.

  “This here’s Beatrix,” she said, pointing to the other girl. “Sam,” she pointed to the skinny boy. “And that’s Greg,” she said, motioning to the weed-stinking one.

  “Yo,” Greg said, though he looked markedly disinterested.

  “Nice to meet you,” Beatrix added, giving me a friendly smile.

  Sam just nodded by way of greeting. Depression radiated off of him and I quickly glanced away in case it was infectious.

  “You can call me Jay,” I replied, keeping my eal name to myself for now.

  “Oh? Giving us a fake name? That’s cold,” Beatrix said. Her smile didn’t fade, but there was a teasing edge to it now.

  I gave them a shrug. “I’m not giving my name out on the first meeting. Maybe if this partnership pans out.”

  “Course, if we’re on a job, you could call her...” Cassie looked around, double checking that nobody was around to listen in. “The Toymaker.”

  Greg lolled a bit in his seat. “Toymaker? Wasn’t that some C-list loser from years ago.”

  I was seeing red in an instant, springing forward and suddenly grabbing Greg by the collar. “Say that again, you stoner fuck, and your next bong hit’ll be through a hole in your neck.”

  He blinked at me, sobering up a tad. “Okay, okay, chill!” he said, raising his hands as a gesture of peace. “Sheesh. Didn’t mean nothing by it.”

  “Huh.” Sam blinked slowly. “I like her already.”

  “Dude!” Greg hissed, an indignant vein throbbing on his brow.

  Odd, I thought stoners were supposed to be mellow.

  Sam gave him a shrug that was decidedly morose. “You can be an asshole at times, dude.”

  “Gotta give credit and respect to those that came before, so don’t go disparaging them,” Cassie said. I stole a brief glance to her from the corner of my eye. Did they not know that Red Hot was her dad?

  “Okay, okay, Christ. Stop breaking my balls about it. Either way, if she’s an Artisan, I guess she might be useful. Mean temper aside.” Greg smoothed his hoodie out as I pulled back, his reddish eyes focused on Cassie. “A fifth member. Shit, you’ve been talking about recruiting someone else for a while now. That mean we’re ready to go on that job you’ve been talking about?”

  “I think we just might,” said Cassie. “Even if it’s still gonna be mad fucking dangerous.”

  Beatrix gave a small roll of her eyes, sinking back into the bench. “That’s not reassuring.” She was smiling faintly all the same.

  “This, of course, is not the time an’ place to talk shop. You never know who might be listening in. How about we go chat in our office? That is, if Jay here is open to it.”

  “Office?” I gave a small snort. “Somehow, I doubt it’s all that formal. Just so we’re clear, I haven’t agreed to anything yet. But I’m guessing this is for the sake of making money and getting some infamy? Something that could give me a reputation?”

  Cassie’s grin returned. She planted her hands on her hips. “You know it, short stuff. Plus it’s a good spot for us to show off our abilities a little. Think of it like ah... shit, what’s the term? An ice breaker! That’s the one! You in?”

  “Let’s... go talk about it, at least.” If it was part of the ‘grab Sidewinder and grill the information out of him’ plan, then I suppose I had no choice. But if this was a paying gig, I could at least put it toward my passion projects.