I pushed open the door of Bea’s shop, still shaking from my encounter with Principal Sicarius and Gran. Gran’s note was tucked inside my pocket, its message burned into my brain.

The bell tinkled with absurd cheerfulness, and I paused for a moment to glare at it for interrupting my grim thoughts.

“Delphi?”

I turned to find Bea standing behind the counter, frowning at me, a strange expression in her eyes. What had I done this time? Did she still think I was a spy for myself?

“Are you alright?” Bea said.

What a question to ask a disgraced supervillain who had just been chewed out by her ex-principal and a world-famous ex-supervillain.

“I’m fine,” I said tightly, crossing the store to join her at the counter. I wasn’t sure what made me do it, but something in her eyes had me asking: “Are you ok?”

Bea’s lips trembled, and I noticed that her eyes were red and puffy. Had she been crying? She gave a short, brittle little laugh. “To be honest, I’ve been better,” she said, turning away from me and rummaging in the shelves behind the counter.

“Oh,” I said, uncertain how I was supposed to proceed from here. I could walk through walls and name a dozen different ways to kill someone, but when it came to expressing concern for other human beings, I was a complete novice. Why was I even wasting my time thinking about this? I had villainy to plan after all, I didn’t have time for a chat with one of my minions.

Bea turned back around to face me, clutching something red and lumpy in her hands.

“This is for you,” she said, thrusting the lumpy object at me. I took it automatically, stretching it out to see what manner of threat this was. It wasn’t a threat at all, but a scarf, knit in fluffy red wool.

“Um...” I said, my brain scrambling to try and figure out why she had just given this to me. Bea must have noticed my confusion.

“It’s a peace offering,” she said hurriedly. “I knit it for you after our argument yesterday. I was talking to Sera, and she reminded me just how tough it is to try and navigate a city this big all on your own. She said we’re all bound to make mistakes, and sometimes a little understanding and forgiveness can go a long way. I knew she was right, of course, and I just wanted to say that I’m sorry for accusing you like that. You’ve probably had just as tough a time with that supervillain as the rest of us, and it wasn’t fair to blame you for all our problems.”

I realized my mouth was hanging open, and I shut it hurriedly. Not knowing what else to do, I draped the scarf around my neck. After a few moments, I remembered there were specific words people usually said in such a situation. “Thank you.”

Bea smiled at me, and I found myself smiling back. Not the shy smile of Delphi, small-town-down-on-her-luck girl, or the crazy smile of Death’s Dancer. This smile came from somewhere hidden deep inside of me, and crept onto my face without any forethought or scheming.

Then Bea’s smile faded.

“What’s wrong?” Her smile was sunshine and fresh air, and for a moment there was nothing I wanted more in the world than to get it back.

She didn’t reply for long moments. Her eyes were fixed on a spot on the far wall, somewhere above my head. “You’ll have to promise not to tell anyone,” Bea said at last, locking eyes with me.

“Promise,” I said. I knew exactly what she was going to say, but my stomach still churned uncomfortably. Too much pie, I told myself, even though I knew that wasn’t the case.

Bea glanced around the shop nervously, as though expecting to see a police officer lurking behind the display of faded jeans, waiting for her confession. “You heard about that bank robbery last night?”

“Yeah, I saw it on TV this morning,” I said.

Bea’s voice dropped to a whisper, and I had to lean forward to hear what she said. “That was us.”

“I know actually,” I said, tangling my fingers in my new red scarf. “Abe told me this morning.”

“He did?” Bea’s eyebrows shot up.

“I was having a bite to eat, and he, well, it was a little odd really...” I stumbled over the words, not sure how to explain my encounter with Abe. Bea was being so friendly today; I didn’t want to remind her of old suspicions. “But that’s not important. What were you going to say?”

Although Bea gave me a questioning look, it was clear that she was bursting to talk to someone about the robbery, so she let it slide. She leaned in closer to me and spoke in a frantic whisper, her eyes glittering with excitement or fear, I couldn’t tell. “We didn’t know what was going on ahead of time, we were just told to show up on the roof of the bank with black ski masks to cover our faces. And then when we got there she told us to make a distraction and pretend to rob the bank, while she took care of the actual robbery. Well none of us were too happy about that, I don’t have to tell you.”

Bea paused to fiddle with the cuffs of her faded purple sweater, glancing at the door as though the police were about to barge in and arrest us both. Her voice dropped even lower, and I had to step closer to hear. “And then she blew up the bank. We had no idea that’s what was going to happen. It was absolute chaos, of course, and in all the ruckus we just sort of slipped out the front door. No one even noticed us leave. We reconvened in an alley, and when she showed up it was with four duffel bags stuffed with cash.”

There was a long, awkward pause. “Wow,” I said at last, as Bea seemed to need some reaction from me at this point. I was struggling to maintain a properly shocked expression while my heart raced in memory of the robbery. My calf throbbed as well, pounding in time to my heart beat.

“’Wow’ is right,” Bea said, leaning back against the counter with a heavy sigh. “I mean, before now all we’ve done is little stuff. A bit of smuggling here and there, nothing too major. But this? Blowing up banks, stealing hundreds of thousands of dollars? I don’t know if I’m cut out for this life.”

I surprised myself by placing a comforting hand on Bea’s shoulder. “Nonsense, you’re doing a fine job,” I said, squeezing her shoulder gently.

“But I don’t want to rob banks and deal with supervillains,” Bea said, her voice catching in her throat. “I just want to run a used clothing store. Sell people things they need; make money honestly.”

The soft red scarf seemed to tighten around my neck like a noose as Bea spoke. It was my fault that she was being forced to rob banks. Well, mine and Death’s Dancer’s.

Footsteps clattered down the stairs, and Bea sprang away from me, a guilty expression on her face. As she did so, Sera bounced into the shop, flicking curly hair out of her eyes.

“Morning,” she said cheerfully, plopping a pile of haphazardly folded jeans on the counter. “All sorted and inventoried for you, Sis.”

I ground my teeth in frustration. How did that girl always manage to always show up at precisely the wrong moment?

“Did you see the news this morning? Shocking,” Sera said, leaning comfortably against the counter. I wished she would leave so I could get more information from Bea, but she seemed prepared to stay there all day. “I just turned on the TV upstairs to check the weather, and there was some reporter going on about a new supervillain blowing up a bank downtown.”

My mind latched onto one of Sera’s words like a dog with a meaty bone. The weather.

All frustration over Sera’s intrusion fled from my mind. I had been hoping there would be a way to get my real name out to my adoring public. What better way than on the weather forecast? Most of the city tuned in each morning, making it a nice public location to announce myself to the world.

Tomorrow’s forecast would be cloudy, with a 100% chance of Death’s Dancer.