She punched in a code I didn’t bother trying to memorize; she covered the pad with her hand anyway. There was a soft beep, then a deep, mechanical thunk as the lock disengaged. She spunthe handle and pulled.
Cold air sighed out.
One empty shelf waited. The others were full.
She took the backpack off her shoulder.
I couldn’t help but feel that seeing her set it down was losing the last piece of control I had.
Valkyrie watched but didn’t say anything.
Liberty stepped forward and placed the bag on the empty middle shelf. Centered it without thinking. It looked small and mean and out of place in the cavernous steel. She looked at it like it was a snake in a glass tank.
“From now on,” she said, “this doesn’t move without me and Blackjack agreeing. It doesn’t open without at least two of us present. Me, Rosé, Valkyrie, or Jersey. No one else.”
Rosé nodded once.
Valkyrie’s eyes stayed on the bag. “What about the tech inside?” she asked. “Those drives.”
“Later,” Liberty said. “One problem at a time. ledger first. We don’t know what those drives could be or do. Not worth risking it.”
She reached up and pulled a small key with a chain from a hook inside the safe, then turned and tossed it.
Valkyrie caught it out of the air. Metal flashed in her palm.
“Code’s mine,” Liberty said. “Key’s hers. You,” she looked and pointed at me, “are the only one who’s actually read enough of it to know what we’re really sitting on. That means this nest only works if the three of us are on the same page. Clear?”
“Clear,” we both agreed simultaneously.
I watched her close the safe. The door boomed shut, heavy and final. The lock engaged with that same deep clunk.
The ledger was out of my hands now. It didn’t feel like any of the weight had left my shoulders though. It just felt like I wasn’t the only one under it anymore.
By the time we came back up, the light outside had shifted. Less harsh. Longer shadows.
8-Ball and Turnpike were out in the yard by their bikes, helmets hooked on bars.
Vipers watched from porches, from windows, and from the gate.
Liberty walked out ahead of us, the de facto hostess sending guests off from her haunted house.
“Tell everyone we’re gonna get through this,” I said to 8-Ball as we approached.
“I will,” he replied. “And you keep your head out of the sand.”
He grabbed the back of my neck and pulled our foreheads together. Not as hard as earlier, but enough.
“You call if anything twitches wrong,” he said. “You listen to Liberty. You listen to Valkyrie. You don’t go chasing ghosts alone. I don’t care how tough you think you are, if you end up in a ditch out here because you tried to be a one-man army, I’ll personally come digyou up and kill you again.”
“Yes, Vice,” I said, voice low.
He gave me a little shake, then let go.
Turnpike clapped my shoulder. “Try not to let the ladies bully you too much,” he said. “You’re fragile.”
“Eat me,” I said.
“Buy me dinner first,” he replied automatically.
