Grim’s car turned onto the dockside road after sunset, allowing the looming glitter of the yacht to beckon the team forward. String lights struck harsh lines across its three levels of decks, while its grinning, gleaming exterior threw moonlight onto the tiny razor waves of the lake. Eli scowled. Grim’s blueprints had given him a decent indication of the ridiculous amenities on board, but no proper sense of its equally ridiculous scale.

And to think that this was the smallest of Preston Thisby’s yachts.

He shifted his gaze away from the boat to assess what he could see of the crowd at the dock. They had timed it right—a steady stream of fashionably late partygoers were flashing their phones to a steward at the ramp.

As the car slowed, Banneker rolled down the window, tossed out a small device, then watched the sky.

“Which drone is it today?” Sherry asked. As she spoke, the whirring device disappeared above the streetlights.

“Tom.” Banneker pulled his head back in. “She’ll go ghost in a minute, then I’ll make her circle the yacht. Speaking of which—you both going ghost, too?”

He turned to Ambrose and Eli, who were squished in the backseat with him. Eli held up his vial and waved it. Next to him, Ambrose showed his potion with less of a flourish and more of a grimace. Ever since they had gotten into the car, his excitement about a post-heist dinner date had waned back into a somber focus: re-checking his pockets for his potions, fidgeting with his sleeves, giving one-word answers to Sherry’s questions.

“Is it time?” He looked to Grim, who shook their head and turned the wheel.

“Give it a second.” Then, just as they passed the ramp—“okay, now.”

They downed the contents of their vials at the same time. Eli braced himself for the initial heaviness that came with the invisibility potion, trickling down from his neck to his toes and pressing him into the seat.

But as the heaviness faded and the car rolled to a stop, Eli felt something strange, something outside himself. He frowned. That didn’t make sense—invisibility potions were passive, non-interactive with their surroundings.

He held himself very still and breathed carefully, trying to sort out exactly what it was he felt. It was…something about Ambrose. He could feel the man sitting next to him—but it wasn’t about their shoulders touching, or their legs grazing against each other.

He looked at the empty space next to him, and even though Ambrose was invisible, he knew he was locking eyes with him. Breathing in time with him, lips parted slightly in a wordless question. Eli swallowed.

“Is this…normal?” he asked.

“I apologize,” Ambrose’s voice was soft, surprised. “It’s been years since I…” He looked away. “Yes. It’s due to the icefall. It’s been so long since I’ve taken it with someone else, I forgot to warn you. I promise it will fade in a moment.”

Eli impulsively leaned in and kissed him. Somewhere in his mind, the icefall sparked, and Ambrose was the only thing in the world he could sense. The car fell away, the yacht wasn’t there, the heist didn’t matter, there was only his lips and his breath and the pounding of his heart—

“You two getting out?” Banneker stood at the open car door, looking around him with his hands on his hips. “Or did you already get out? I can’t tell, you’re invisible.”

Ambrose gave a gentle push on Eli’s shoulder, and he pulled away.

“Sorry,” he whispered. “You said it was going to fade. Had to take advantage of it.”

Ambrose didn’t even have a reply for him—just a small, breathless laugh before he pulled him out of the car.

“You ready for our big performance?” Sherry was at the front of the car in a pink hawaiian shirt, patting Grim’s arm. Grim adjusted their matching lime green hawaiian shirt and sighed.

“Let’s get this over with.”

Banneker slid back into the car as Sherry and Grim obnoxiously elbowed their way through the stream of breezy sundresses and linen button-downs. Eli kept a careful distance from the guests, making sure not to brush up against them or walk too loudly, while simultaneously enjoying their disgusted looks when their eyes fell on Sherry and Grim’s ensemble.

“Excuse me!” Sherry reached the ticket steward at the ramp and tugged on his red polo. “Is this the Alcedon Booze Cruise?”

The steward’s smile froze. “No, ma’am, I believe you have the wrong dock—“

“But the email said that this was the dock for the booze cruise!”

Sherry’s loud questioning drew the attention of anyone not already distracted by her neon pink shirt. Ambrose’s fingers closed around Eli’s sleeve as they moved past the steward and up the ramp, keeping their footfalls in precise time with the guests ahead of them.

“We have three minutes before the potion fades,” Ambrose whispered. “Make sure you’re alone when it does.”

Eli nodded, and they parted ways at the top of the ramp—Ambrose to one safe, Eli to the other.

The two main cabins were on the middle level of the yacht, allowing Eli a quick tour of the stupidly sumptuous space as he speed-walked down the length of the boat. If he had a reflection at the moment, he would have seen it in everything—the glass tables, the mahogany accents on the walls, the infinity pool that stretched out on the lower deck. Everything felt smooth and polished, including the guests draped over ivory couches and each other.

As one such couple giggled their way out of the middle-deck lounge, Eli slipped in past them, then grimaced as a wall of pounding music and spilled champagne struck his senses. He’d found one of the yacht’s three bars.

Eli’s path to the cabin quickly turned into a dance as he slid past patrons, spun around lavish armchairs, and ducked under red-polo’d stewards and their trays of food. He briefly considered stealing a canapé until he realized that floating prosciutto was perhaps not very subtle.

“Made it to the cabin,” Ambrose’s voice jolted in his earpiece, almost making him bump into a circle of men huddled near the stairs. “Opening the safe now.”

“I’m almost to my cabin,” Eli said, trying not to sound too defensive. Ambrose hadn’t had a bar to navigate on his end. “Tell me if your safe is empty.”

Part of him hoped the icefall was in Ambrose’s safe. Though Grim had reassured him that Thisby’s purchased icefall was already stabilized—after all, the man and his friends wouldn’t bother with the equipment to stabilize it themselves—he still didn’t care for the idea of carrying the poisonous compound close to his body.

As Eli reached the cabin, a curse crackled through his earpiece. “Safe is empty.”

Damn. “Copy that.” Eli took a breath, listened at the cabin door, then slipped inside and locked the door behind him.

The decor inside the cabin was a continuation of the rest of the yacht. Silky, champagne-colored linens, glass side tables, gleaming wood accents. Eli checked himself in the wood— still invisible—then hurried around to the other side of the room.

“Okay, I’m in the…” He stopped. “Shit.”

There was no need to crack the safe, because the safe was already unlocked. A small metal case sat haphazardly in front of it, lid thrown open.

Half the vials of icefall inside were missing.

“I think Thisby’s already started the handoff to his friends,” Eli muttered, kneeling to scoop the remaining vials into a pouch under his belt. “How many vials did you need?”

“Eight.”

Eli counted out the six vials in his hand and sighed. “We’ll need to take two back from his buddies, then.”

“Copy.” Ambrose’s voice tightened. “Hide the empty case. Banneker, can you look out for anyone who might have the icefall on them?”

“On it.”

Eli tossed the case back into the safe, shut the door, and spun the lock. As he did, his body felt more buoyant, and he caught the movement of his faded hand in the glass side table. “Invisibility’s out,” he said. “Anyone headed in this direction?”

“No,” Banneker said. “Hey, any way you can jam that safe? Don’t want Thisby finding the empty case.”

Eli bit his lip. Though it looked simplistic, safes had never been his forte. He stuck his hand into his pocket, and his fingers brushed against the energy surge label. “Sherry, can I take another potion?”

“Normally, I’d have you wait ten minutes,” she grumbled. Eli held a beat. “Fine, you can take it. But tell me if you experience any—“

He downed the potion, let the static crackle into his fingertips, then raised his hand to the safe. With an exhale, he released a pulse of energy into the metal, just enough to get the briefest glimpse of the inner workings. Not that he knew what they did, exactly—but there was at least one breakable piece in there.

His second pulse was harder, more targeted. He heard a snap from somewhere within the safe, and withdrew his hand.

“Done, I think.” Eli pushed himself to his feet, swaying a little. He caught himself on the edge of the bed and shook the lingering heaviness out of his brain, hoping the team couldn’t see him through a security camera right now. “Banneker, any lead on who else might have the icefall? Should I start searching the other cabins?”

“No, don’t bother with the cabins,” he said. “These people aren’t going to stash the icefall right away. They’ll want to show it off first.” Rapid clicking accompanied his voice. “Game of Where’s Illegal Waldo, coming right up…”

“Eli, which potion did you take?” Ambrose asked. Voices and music echoed around him, as if he had stepped out onto one of the decks.

“Energy surge.”

“And how do you feel?”

“That’s my question,” Sherry mumbled.

Eli felt the static grow again in his hands, prickly and heavy as it built up against the last traces of the invisibility potion. He flinched, shot a few ineffectual pulses at the cabin floor, then shook out his fingers. “I’m fine.”

“Okay, I’ve got two leads,” Banneker cut in. “Ames, get to the upper deck, to the man in the dining room. Eli, head to the hot tub on your level.”

Eli grinned. “Hear that? I get the hot tub.”

Ambrose’s heavy sigh filtered through the sound of feet on metal steps.“In the hall. I have eyes on my target.”

Eli worked to visualize Ambrose’s side of the mission as he weaved his way back through the bar, picking up a drink of some kind to blend in. He gave it a sniff—gin and tonic, at a guess. Not that he was going to risk a taste-test, with so much icefall in his system.

“Nah, don’t even know what it is.” The stranger’s slurred voice was muffled through Ambrose’s comm. “Looks cool, though. You think I can snort it?”

“Good Lord.” Eli could almost hear Sherry’s facepalm. “Ambrose, please do something.”

“Oh, I’ve used that before.” Ambrose’s mid-Atlantic accent made a clumsy reappearance as he sidled up next to the target. “Here, I’ll show you.”

As Eli stepped out into the cool breeze of the deck, his comm turned into a slapstick radio play. Shuffling footsteps, drunken laughter—then a spray of mist and an undignified thump on the ground.

“I have the vial,” Ambrose confirmed. “Your turn.”

Eli bristled at the hint of smugness. “No fair, you didn’t give me any of that knock-out mist.”

“Won’t be useful in a place this crowded,” Banneker said. “Icefall’s to your right.”

Eli bit down a curse when he saw his target. The woman was lounging in a bubbling hot tub, toying with both the man to her right and the vial of icefall on the encompassing ledge. As she shifted the steamed glass, the icefall refracted tiny rainbow patterns against both the water and the polished ledge.

Banneker was right—she couldn’t be lured away and knocked out like the man upstairs. He’d have to take it out of her hand somehow.

“Wish I had gotten the guy in the dining room,” Eli muttered. Ambrose snorted.

“You were bragging about the hot tub not one minute ago.”

“I know, I know.” Eli swirled the ice in his gin and tonic, then looked down at it and lifted his eyebrows. “I have an idea, but it’s going to take a second. If you need to get off the yacht now, do it. I’ll meet you near the ramp.”

“I’m not leaving you here.”

Eli shook his head as he found an empty bar table and angled his body towards the lake. “Grim, back me up on this?”

“He’s not leaving you there, Valenz.”

“Fine.” He glanced back at the hot tub. “I’ll get this done as fast as I can.”

He pulled the empty energy surge vial out of his pocket and placed it on the table, careful to avoid the sticky puddle of champagne dripping over the side. After pouring a trickle of his gin into the vial, he fished out an ice cube from the glass, held it over the railing, and pushed a small energy pulse out of his palm. The cube cracked into pieces, dripping water through his fingers.

“Alright.” He dropped a shard of ice into the gin vial and screwed the cap shut. “Decoy’s ready.”

“Ten more minutes on the energy surge,” Sherry warned. Eli made a subtle confirming nod as he wound towards the hot tub. Ahead of him, the woman still held the icefall loosely in her hand, directing a gaudy, fake smile at her companion. Oblivious to the effort she was putting into her expression, the man wound his arm over her shoulders, his beer hanging from his fingers over the ledge.

Perfect.

As soon as Eli felt the steam of the hot tub swirl against his arm, he flicked his fingers. A tiny ring of energy, nearly invisible in the dim party lights, dunked into the water with a splash. Both targets jumped at the spray, and icy beer sloshed over the woman’s arm.

“Sorry, sorry!” As the man yanked back his hand, the woman let go of the vial. It bounced off the ledge and onto the deck, and began to roll away.

“Get it, get it, get it!” Banneker shouted. Heart pounding, Eli snatched the vial, swapped it with the decoy in his pocket, and handed the decoy to the woman with his most winning smile.

“Dropped this?” he asked, hoping she wouldn’t notice his hand shaking. She looked up from her beer-splattered arm and dropped her disgusted demeanor just long enough to toss him a plastic smile of her own.

“Thank you,” she started, but the man’s continued apologies pulled her attention away again. She didn’t look at the vial as she settled back into her position, reassuring her companion that everything was fine.

Eli let out a slow exhale and slipped the icefall into his pouch.

“I’ve got it,” he muttered, keeping his stride as casual as possible. His fingers still shook, but he couldn’t blame it on the nerves. The static was building up again, demanding that he let loose somewhere. If he could reach the empty swath of deck ahead before meeting up with Ambrose—

“Good work,” Banneker said. “You’ve also got a tail.”

Eli cursed under his breath, not daring to even glance behind him. “Who?”

“Steward. Following you about ten steps back.”

Eli’s hands ached for the safety of the empty deck beyond, but the steward could easily confront him there. He stiffened and swerved back into the bar instead, mentally sifting for other options, other tools.

His hand closed around the illusion potion in his pocket.

“Sherry—“

“No,” she snapped.

“I’ll take the neutralizer after, I promise.”

“Where are you?” Ambrose’s voice went tight, but Banneker’s clicking superseded him.

“Eli, turn left ahead. You’ll be out of her line of sight long enough to take whatever you need to.”

“Thank you.” Eli nudged his way back through the bar crowd, sweat dripping under his collar. Of course he was the one causing the problems today, after all his talk of helping…

“Excuse me?” someone called haughtily to the steward behind him. Eli silently thanked whoever it was and hurried his pace down the hall.

“Left now,” Banneker said. Eli ducked into an alcove by the lower-level steps and drank the potion. Fog filled his head in an instant, mingling with the energy surge until the jittery static felt more like prickling sludge in his veins. He staggered back against the wall and clenched his jaw, trying to push away the dizzying clouds.

“Eli?” Banneker’s voice pitched high in fear.

“I got it.” He pried his eyes back open and forced an illusion of himself down the hall. It dragged along his awareness at first—footsteps that weren’t his, a glitching view of the door ahead—but he caught himself and yanked it back, giving the illusion just enough energy to open the door and slip into the crowd outside.

A moment later, the steward passed by the alcove, her eyes fixed on the swinging door. Eli half-collapsed against the stair railing and wiped the cold sweat off his forehead, the fog and the static generating a syncopated pounding in his head and chest.

“Get down the stairs now,” Banneker said quickly. “First cabin on your right is empty, you can take the neutralizer there.”

Ambrose’s voice sounded distant. “Where is he?”

“Lowest level.”

Eli staggered down the steps, his clammy palms slipping against the chrome railing. He let the force of his shoulder push the cabin door open, then collapsed against it to close it.

“Ames, how…” he fumbled for the neutralizer, “how the hell did you survive any of your missions like this?”

“Take the neutralizer,” Sherry ordered. Eli tried to lift his hand out of his pocket, but it was too heavy. His vision flickered once, twice.

The door opened behind him, shoving him forward, then letting him fall back. He groaned—the rough motion only made him dizzier.

“Stay with me.” Ambrose’s dim silhouette was fuzzy as he knelt in front of him. Eli relaxed against the door and closed his eyes. He didn’t need to see him—he could feel the icefall in Ambrose again, stronger this time due to the sheer amount of it clogging his own veins. He knew Ambrose was bending over him, searching for the neutralizer, unscrewing the cap. Though he kept his face neutral, his heart beat as fast as Eli’s.

“Giving him the neutralizer now, Sherry.”

Eli tried not to choke on the bitter liquid Ambrose tipped down his throat. For a second, the fog and the static dug deeper in resistance, sending the room spinning. A burst of energy arced from Eli’s hand and dissolved into the floor.

Then the ice set in.

“I’m sorry,” Ambrose whispered, pulling him off the door and into his chest. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry…”

The shivering came first—his body’s attempt to shake off the searing chill that seeped from his core. But as the neutralizer fought off the icefall and the cold spread further, so did the pain. Tiny knives in his veins slashed away the fog, then the static, then his connection to Ambrose, until he was left straining to hear the man’s heartbeat through his shirt, just for something to latch onto.

“How is he?” Sherry asked after a minute, maybe an hour. Eli didn’t know anymore. His face was buried against Ambrose’s shirt, hand clutching his collar in a white-knuckled grip. Ambrose reached for Eli’s wrist and felt his pulse.

“Better,” he murmured. Eli forced out a nod and pushed himself away from Ambrose. The pain had subsided, leaving his limbs heavy and weak. “Give him a minute to recover, and we’ll walk back to the dock.”

Then Grim let out a string of swears. Banneker cleared his throat to be heard over it.

“Yeah, about that…” Cheering burst from the upper decks, muffled through the walls. “They’re taking away the ramp.”

The boat began to shift, sending both of them swaying. Ambrose set a hand on the floor to catch himself, then scrambled up and rushed to the porthole. Eli struggled to follow, leaning heavily against the edge of the bed, then Ambrose’s shoulder as he reached the window.

Together, they watched as the dock rapidly retreated into the night.