“Jiu-jitsu?” Tolliver asks skeptically.
“Also Krav Maga and Jeet Kune Do, but I didn’t want to brag.”
I decide not to push. I’ll just fabricate some problems later to force him into using it.Forceis a strong word. Trick him? No. Encourage.Yes, I’llencouragehim into using his magic.
“I guess CJ and Rook are muscle,” Poppy says, a little unsure. “I’m on gadgets. Tollie’s on chem. Elle’s got that little accent thing she does.”
“One,” I say, “my accents are pitch-perfect. And two, I bring a whole lot more to the table, thank you very much.”
Poppy rolls her eyes. “Regardless, we have an obvious hole in our arsenal. None of us has ever done a heist in the Beforedeath.”
I shrug. “We’ll figure it out. I’ve watched so many heist movies this year, you don’t even know.”
“What’s that thing you always say?” Poppy asks. “Any genius with an acrobat friend can pull off a heist? Well, we have at least three geniuses…”
I frown. “Who…Which of us is not a genius?”
“What?”
“You said three geniuses. And there are four of us. So are you…I just want to see who I need to be defending here.”
CJ raises an eyebrow. “How do you know she’s not referring to you?”
“Actually,” Rook says, “there are five of us. So there are two of uswho should be…” He groans. “I don’t know why I’m encouraging this.”
Crowlene croaks a series of clicks.
I raise my eyebrows at Poppy. “Ah! You forgot Crowlene! That makes six!”
Poppy throws up her hands. “Fine! Fine, six geniuses! There are six geniuses in this room. Five human geniuses and one corvid genius. Are you happy?”
“Very much, thank you,” I say.
“That was very big of you,” Tolliver adds.
Poppy heaves a sigh. “My point is: We’re going to need an acrobat friend.”
I wrinkle my nose. She’s not wrong. All the planning in the world won’t get me through an air duct or give Tolliver the ability to scale buildings. We need someone who can do all that parkour stuff that we can’t. Someone who can get into tight spaces, climb up walls, disappear.
We need a shadow.
I smile. “I think I know a guy.”
Twelve
Shortly after Dante’s death, I was in New York, having just had my confidence shattered after trying and failing to break into the Nightshades headquarters. I was walking through Times Square, sulking and generally indulging in self-pity, when I got pickpocketed.
I’d like to say I noticed right away, but we don’t always get what we want. It wasn’t until I tried to pay for dinner (street cart hot dog, extra relish, no mustard) that I discovered I was missing all the cash from my wallet, along with the necklace my dad had given me for my first job.
I retraced my steps back to Times Square and began people watching, noticing the faces I saw over and over. Eventually, I started recognizing patterns in their movements—standing too close to someone, suddenly changing directions. I watched those people closer until I began to see the trick of it. The pressure of a hand on a shoulder while unclasping a watch with the other. The jostle when lifting someone’s wallet out of their pocket. The handoff when thieves were working in pairs.
When I saw a short, curly-haired boy about my age unclasp a necklace from a woman’s neck, so effortlessly I almost missed it, I knew I’d found the culprit. I tried to tail him, but he spotted me instantly, and I lost him in a mess of construction and food carts.
I spent three days trying to catch him, with no success. But now it’s not just me.
I have a crew.
Once again, I find myself sulking in the middle of Times Square. Sun high, the wind whipping the collar of my trench coat. I’ve got a blond wig and glasses thick enough to hide my features. It’s too cold for a skirt, so I’ve opted for creased slacks and shoes with what Poppy calls “business heels.”
