I never drank or did drugs. You couldn't predict what people would do to you while you were intoxicated. Adaobi seemed okay with it, though. She couldn't hold her beer and was soon tipsily complaining about work, about the minutiae of running a full-grown Winnie and especially about Piscator.

"I used to like that guy," She said bitterly. "He's always had my back, you know? But this was something I'd never seen. Full-on yelling tantrum crap, you know? Pounded his fist on the car door."

She'd turned off her dermal cosmetics: no bees or lightning. She was just a cute girl, late twenties or early thirties with dark skin and her afro encased in a silk bonnet. It looked like a floppy shower cap covered with a pattern of happy Winnies.

The bonnet wasn't all she'd brought; mid-Star Trek she'd changed into a flowing sort of pajama robe outfit that swallowed her up. She looked absurdly comfortable.

"Know who else sucks? Todd!" She waved her beer for emphasis. "That punk-ass shithead with his bombs. If I get ahold of him I'll…well, I'll probably hand him over to Lux's attack dogs, realistically."

"I can get behind that," Lir said. He was working on his slice of everything pizza; it was loaded with toppings I'd never heard of, nonhuman-friendly ones too, and it didn't look like he'd be able to finish it. He bit and tore at it like the corpse of a gazelle he'd killed, unable to lift the huge thing gracefully. "Oh, what I'd do to that guy."

Star Trek was abruptly cut off. A live news interruption.

And speaking of Lux Interior.

She stood in front of a burning building. She was gorgeous, of course, but her hair was a mess and if she wore makeup I couldn't tell. She wore a sort of big-shouldered sport jacket over what might have been pajamas. She spoke directly into what had to be a hovering drone, its camera zeroed in on her face.

I knew it I KNEW I shouldn't have let her just leave

Lux did a newscaster voice pretty well. I had no idea if it was a current-day thing or if she was just a natural. "The City of Trees has been attacked. Gardeners are demanding to know who has set fire to their home. So far the count of dead has reached 45, and more are missing. Spokesman Gary from the Feast of Fools has offered the following statement:"

The video jumped to a blue-and-pink Gardener, his limbs twisting and fists clenching in nonhuman fury. "Always we knew Humans would try to kill us. Always. The disgust I feel for them has been utterly vindicated. If the word HATE was engraved on every cell of my being it would not equal one one-billionth of the hate I feel for Humans at this time. Hate. Hate."

"Is he quoting…oh man, Mabruk," I said, and hauled his round Gardener balloon body close. I don't know if I was going to try to hug him or what, but he frantically slapped at me until I released him.

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"It's them," he said. "I know it. I know it. Covenant assholes." his propeller carried him out the front door. "Gotta make some calls. Back in a minute."

Lux was speaking again. She looked like she'd been crying, but was solid and mussed and pretty, embattled. And it wasn't a building she stood in front of, it was one of the skyscraper-sized trees the Gardeners lived in. "If anyone is near the City of Trees who can provide aid, the Gardeners welcome you. None from the Covenant of Man will be allowed nearby." Her eyes narrowed. "And none from the Covenant of Man will be spared."

I realized I was standing. "Guys," I said.

"Roger," they said in chorus.

ROGER

I called Lux. She didn't answer. Then she did.

"It's bad," she said without a greeting. "I know I skipped out on you. I know. But if you can get Caravan to help that would be very welcome."

Caravan? Who needed those guys? "I was thinking that we could just–"

Adaobi finished a phone call of her own. "Emergency meeting on the Tourist Winnie," she said.

"I…say Hi to Adaobi," Lux said. She sounded shaky, now that the broadcast had ended.

"Lux says hi," I said, and Adaobi rolled her eyes.

But then she shook her head, seemed to clear the mad away. "What can we do?"

"Is she over at your house?" Lux sounded amused, a little outraged. "Already? All adorable in the bonnet and floppy jammies? And Star Trek, I'll bet. You poor fool you."

"She wants to know what we can do."

"Medical assistance for Gardeners, repair for their trees. We haven't heard from the Feast yet. Gary is here because…I don't know, he's just mean, I think. But the Feast itself isn't responding. There was a weird skip in reality this morning, do you know anything about that? Affected Gardeners a lot, I couldn't tell myself. The Feast is doing some kind of world-ending fight."

"We'll be there. Caravan meeting happening now. Hang in there, Poop Machine. Another call, gotta go."

"We won't be treated like your cast-off garbage," snarled Dr. Michelle. "This is just the beginning, and it's all your own doing."

"Where are you right now," I asked. The room had gone quiet around me.

"As if you could stop us."

But I felt her. We all felt her. All of us, our nasty Walsh souls spinning together like a relentless grinding machine, like a belt sander smoothing away at a canker, scraping away her defenses, exposing the cold, gloating mess of her mind. Adaobi joined in. The confused but supportive weight of Molly herself driving our offensive, rushing like an avalanche down a mountainside.

WHERE!

Michelle wanted to fight, all of us could tell. A psychic battle, with the least pleasant personality prevailing. We were six, but Michelle was tough, and much more of pain in the ass than all of us combined. A jolt of frustrated fury from her and she disconnected. Flung mental smoke bombs to hide, to disappear. Then she was gone.

But we had her.

East coast. Washington DC. The Pentagon. Bad guy headquarters.

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