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I gulped at Dante’s clipped words as we trudged through the brush. The factory was to our left now. I hadn’t realized how far we’d traversed the sewers, doing an almost complete loop of the large area. Smoke still fragranced the air. I hope it burned itself out under there and didn’t somehow catch any of this dry brush or the factory beyond.

Then again, that would serve to destroy all evidence of the spectral bitch below, ensuring that that could control the narrative, should we be questioned.

You’d think after suffering moderate smoke inhalation, a cigarette would be the last thing on my mind, but I was craving something to take the edge off.

I resisted the urge to shove my hands behind my back, instead slowing to light up.

“You get close enough to a flaming hag, you’re gonna get burned if you want to kill her.” I shrugged, inhaling.

“Let me see them,” he demanded, slowing his gait.

I did not slow mine. “You fussing over some minor injuries in the dark with no medical equipment while holding an unconscious child isn’t going to help us,” I protested. “I’m a big girl. He’s not.”

I heard Dante’s heavy sigh, then his footfalls resumed.

My hand only shook a little when I took one last drag minutes later. The agony in my palms was almost unfathomable. I didn’t look forward to seeing what they’d look like in the light.

I’d intended on taking a couple more drags, but when my eyes narrowed on two colors flashing in the distance, I smoked quicker.

I flicked the cigarette over my shoulder into the dry brush which ignited quickly, heat nipping at our backs.

“Arson?” Dante’s tone told me he was teasing, though I didn’t miss the tightness, the concern, that ran along my skin like a serrated knife.

“What’s another felony?” I ground my teeth through the pain in my hands, staring at the incoming car.

The last choice in situations like this was turning to law enforcement. Injuries usually meant field medicine or drop-and-run at a hospital for the victims. No record of us so much as existing.

There were too many questions that couldn’t be answered, too many opportunities for us to be turned into villains.

It didn’t apply in this situation, even if the blue and red lights hadn’t been illuminating the single dirt road we’d come in on.

I’d understood that however this ended, I’d likely have to have uncomfortable conversations with Colton that would only increase his suspicions of me. Occupational hazard.

“How do you want to play this?” Dante hitched Jackson up in his arms, eyes darting down to the boy with concern.

I was worried about the kid too, but his physical status seemed to be stable, his chest rising and falling at an even rate. The mental healing would likely take much longer.

I would know.

I hid my surprise at Dante deferring to me yet again, and moved my attention to the cruiser, stifling my desire to start shouting expletives as a large, familiar form exited it.

“Doesn’t this fucker delegate? Or sleep?” I muttered, more to myself than anything.

“Follow my lead,” I told Dante as Colton began to jog toward us.

The stars twinkled above the waxing moon, offering a little light and a taunt that the full moon crept closer. It was also a blaring spotlight on the fact that I was there, chasing Black Annis and saving kids, with Dante at my back, Colton at my front.

I squared my shoulders as Colton’s eyes flared once he got close enough to see what Dante was holding. Who he was holding.

I had to give him credit; he didn’t waste time asking us questions, immediately getting on his radio, calling for EMT and backup.

He didn’t rush toward us right after he cut the transmission. He stood stock-still, staring as if he were suspended in space.

“Is he alive?” The grief in his voice was so palpable that I squeezed my burnt hands into fists so the pain would chase away any empathy I might’ve felt for Colton.

“He’s alive,” Dante answered after a few seconds of silence, presumably waiting for me to reply.

Colton’s entire form relaxed. He opened his mouth as if he were going to say something, then his eyes widened at the growing warmth at our backs.