Banneker spent the next several hours soundly beating his new friends at a video game they barely understood. As far as they were concerned, half the fun came just from watching the hacker take down the other players first, leaving Eli and Dawn to be killed last. He claimed that it was to give them a fighting chance, but in Eli’s view, it was like being hunted by a sadistic golden retriever.

“Hey, you almost got me on that one!” He gestured to the screen and grinned at Dawn. Dawn snorted and handed him the controller.

“Sure I did.” She stood up off the couch and stretched. “Sherry said there was sandwich stuff, yeah?”

“Yeah, there’s turkey or something.” Banneker waved, his eyes glued on the television again. “She’ll be back with groceries soon. Eli, you done?”

“Think so.” Eli stood as well, but wasn’t interested in staring at the fridge just yet. Instead, he wandered about the main floor. He discovered a coat closet by the stairs, an office with Grim making phone calls in it…

“Busy, Valenz.”

“Oh, sorry.”

…and one more door. Eli opened it to find nothing but a rickety wooden staircase and unfinished basement walls. Somewhere off to the left, white fluorescent lights hummed. As he closed the basement door, wheels crunched on the gravel driveway outside. He stepped onto the porch in time to catch Sherry trudging around the car.

“Of course,” she was muttering as she popped the trunk, “of course it’s my turn to go grocery shopping when we’ve added two new mouths to feed…”

“Here, let me help.” Eli jogged over and started sliding grocery bag handles over his arms. It was the least he could do, after punching her co-worker.

“Thank you,” Sherry patted his arm, then grabbed the rest of the bags. “At least Ambrose brought home a polite man. Mostly.”

“Where is he?” Eli asked as they staggered in with enough groceries to feed them for a month. Sherry set the bags on the counter and huffed.

“In the basement, where he always is,” she said. “He hasn’t come up for lunch, has he?”

“Haven’t seen him.”

“Course not.” She rolled her eyes and reached into the fridge. “You mind bringing this down to him?” Before he could decline, she pushed a protein shake into his hand, then went back to muttering and pawing through grocery bags. “Bunsen burners for brains can’t even remember to eat…”

#

Eli tried to descend the stairs quietly, but the wooden steps were as creaky as they looked, and his footfalls sliced through the quiet hum of the basement. Off to the left, someone gave a soft curse.

“I know, I know, I’m coming up for…lunch,” Beake started, then trailed off and frowned at him. Eli was clearly not the team member he expected. “Hello.”

Eli returned the frown, not just to him, but to the room at large. Beake was closing the door on a glass enclosure built within the basement. White fluorescents illuminated rows of tables, test tubes, and lab equipment, all neat and polished. Now that Eli thought about it, the room did smell like cleaning solution, along with…something else. The herb that he had smelled on Beake at the gala.

Beake cleared his throat. “If you’re looking for the executive desk, leather chair, and long-haired cat on my lap, I’m afraid I’ve put all that in storage.” Eli realized he was still staring at the room, and looked to Beake, who gave a small gesture with a lab coat over his arm. “Sorry to disappoint you. It’s just a lab, not a lair.”

“I can see that,” Eli said quickly, then held out the shake. “Sherry wanted me to give you this.”

“Oh. Thank you.” As Beake leaned forward to take it, Eli noticed the bruise on his cheek had spread up to his eye and down his jaw, all deep purples and greens. He flinched on the man’s behalf.

“You got an ice pack for that?”

“For what?” Beake sipped the shake, then winced, as if only just remembering the injury. “Oh, that. Um…”

He strode over to a cabinet that released a strong herbal scent upon opening, and plucked a green vial from the top shelf. As he drank the potion, his knuckles on the cabinet handle went white, then relaxed.

“Sorry. Learned to block that sort of pain out.” Beake closed the door, the bruises across his face already retreating. Eli glanced at the cabinet. At least a dozen other green vials were lined up on the top shelf alone.

He gestured to the cabinet, trying to keep the disgust out of his voice. “So, I thought icefall was…”

“Dangerous? Addictive?” Beake finished his sentence, then took another sip of the shake. “According to the agency?”

Eli shoved his hands in his pockets. “Yeah.”

Beake shrugged past him as he made for the stairs. “It’s not addictive,” he said. “That’s a simple lie, an easy enemy to construct. But icefall can be dangerous when not handled properly. Half my research at the start was dedicated to figuring out how to work with it.”

Eli thought back to the man’s glowing veins. “You mean all your potions are safe?”

“They’re all calculated risks, but some uses are more stable than others.” Beake held up the empty vial. “Healing potions, very stable, and I worked hard to get them that way. My flashier potions, however, are not actually recommended for heavy, repeated, or compound use. Not yet, anyway.”

Eli tapped his fingers on the railing. “So, you chugging multiple potions at the gala…”

“I have an antidote, or neutralizer, of sorts that I take after such use,” Beake said. “Halts most of the side-effects.”

“Most?”

Beake paused at the top of the stairs. “Like I said. It’s a calculated risk.”