Technically, they’re not supposed to intervene. Call it the masquerade if you like (and if you’re a fucking geek), or just call it plain old pragmatism – Dusksiders don’t get involved in lightside business if they’ve any sense.
Then again, Kay thinks, winding her boxing wraps tight around scarred knuckles, I never was much burdened with an overabundance of that.
Across the room, Pirate and Hawkeye are talking tactics, heads together over a city map that looks like it came out of the damn ark. Cutter’s leaning against the wall next to ‘em, close enough to offer suggestions (and bait Pirate while he’s about it), but far enough away that Hawkeye ain’t about to bite his head off for smoking inside.
Kay envies him a little for that, if she’s honest. She’s too keyed up to smoke right now, but damn if a cigarette wouldn’t take the edge off the tension thrumming through her.
Then again, maybe she needs that edge. Going lightside’s serious business, especially when it’s technically against orders. But lightside’s also fucked to hell and back and getting worse, and she’s not sitting on her arse doing nothing while the world burns.
And besides, they made Ella cry.
Copyright © 2020 by Finn McLellan. All rights reserved.