Page 76 of Stealing Tink

“Not at all,” says Lars, no hint of defensiveness in his tone. “We still made it to the engine. Just not in time to be of any assistance to you two.”

And Venus? I sign.

“While those two were making their way toward the engine, Venus ran back into the passenger car to get me,” says Phoenix. “But there was a Company guard stationed in the passenger car, dressed as a civilian. Once he saw her coming from the other boxcar, alive and well after the struggle we’d heard, he grabbed her. He threw her up against the window. I knew as soon as I heard the crack that she was gone.”

The Nomad appears unconvinced. “And you’re the only one who witnessed this?”

“She’s dead,” says Acel. “Saw it happen myself when Lars and I came back to find Phoenix and Venus after the train had slowed down.”

“There was no pulse,” says Lars.

A quietness descends over the group. Even Lars knows better than to chatter away. And for the first time, it sinks in that there’s more at stake with this heist than just my voice.

“I should have talked her out of this,” says Phoenix.

I’m sorry, I sign.

Phoenix doesn’t respond.

That still doesn’t explain how you made it off the train, I write.

“Once the train stopped, it was only a matter of climbing to the top of a car and jumping over the fencing,” says Lars. “We had to time it correctly, of course, but the Company guards stationed around the perimeter were already raiding the train. There were only three of them stationed where the train stopped, and they weren’t clever enough to leave one outside to watch. They stormed in, and we snuck out.”

Seemingly satisfied with the explanation, the Nomad turns to Phoenix. “Are you still in?”

Phoenix glares at him. “What a cowardly way to ask the question.”

“But a practical one,” says the Nomad.

Phoenix doesn’t answer.

When it becomes clear she has no intention to, the Nomad turns to Lars.

“Do I have a choice?” she says. When the Nomad doesn’t answer, she fixes her gaze on Lars. “You had an idea to replace her on the team?”

“Yes, well, depending on how much faerie dust you managed to salvage,” says Lars, “I’ve been thinking for a long while about a concoction to make one invisible. It would be temporary, of course. Assuming I can get the dosage correct,” he adds after further pondering. Then, seemingly unaware of the negative implications if he’s wrong, continues, “But judging by the size of the satchels, I imagine I’ll have to use all of it.”

I tense. At the same moment, the Nomad says, “No. We’ll use the faerie dust for what we stole it for.”

Phoenix scoffs in the corner. “Of course we will,” she mutters. “We can’t have Tink dealing with the consequences of your poor leadership, now can we?”

“I didn’t force you or Venus onto this team,” snaps the Nomad. “And last I remembered, I haven’t told any of you the plan. So if I make changes to it, who are you to say it’s not in our best interest?”

“Exactly,” says Acel. “You haven’t told us the plan. It would help us get on board if you did.”

I turn to the Nomad, pull out my pad, and write, Is it vital that we have someone invisible?

“Of course not,” he says. “If it was, we’d be doing that.”

But there’s a hesitation in his eyes, a way he lingers on my tattered wings, a hint of pain in his gaze that makes me unsure.

“So the sooner Lars can get to work on her wings, the better,” the Nomad says.

“Well, I certainly won’t be conducting any experiments in here,” says Lars, looking around at the barren cave. “I don’t even particularly like conducting experiments on your ship. You haven’t met all of my demands for a laboratory, you know.”

“Is the massive room I gave you back on the ship not enough?” asks the Nomad.

“It’s next to the kitchen. I can hardly focus with all the noise.”