“He wanted you to help him take Serene down?” Paul asked. 

Maren nodded. “He seemed to think the three of us could handle it, even watching how the other Wielders fought.” 

“JJ,” Paul whispered, hiding his head in his hands. “Why are you being so stupid?” 

Maren let him wallow, like she’d done for Mav over the last half an hour. He hardly spoke during her conversation with Paul, only providing insight to the Ethereal Leaders’ abilities. He looked most active, however, whenever a police vehicle with blaring sirens passed by, staring after them with a look of longing. 

It grew harder to disavow him of his anxiety with each car. By now, at least eleven vehicles had rushed toward Howin. Lord knew what was going on in that neighborhood, but it was anything but good. 

“Alright,” Paul said. “JJ won’t change his mind. And we need to share what we know with the authorities.” 

“I hope you know that means our involvement with this job is done,” Maren said. “After we make the report. Unless the Peace Keepers want to let us help.” 

“They won’t,” Mav said, voice short. 

“I understand,” Paul sighed. “How much do I owe you?” 

“Nothing,” Maren said. “You tasked us with getting JJ back. We failed. We don’t get paid for not completing missions.” 

“I should give you something for your effort,” Paul said. “I mean, I should’ve realized the only way to bring him back was by dragging him kicking and screaming.” 

“We failed our first attempt, and I called it off. It wouldn’t be right for me to take your credits.” 

“Think of it as a reward for the information you’re going to give the cops. Not like they or the Peace Keepers will thank you.” 

Maren smirked. “Kinda stubborn, huh?” 

“For a few things, like doing someone a good turn.” Paul’s eyes grew distant. “Got that from JJ, back when we were kids.” 

They reached the entrance to the police department, from which two more vehicles floored out, sirens screeching. A mostly barren parking lot separated them from the main building in front of which several flags – for Talam, Neirea, and the city’s own – surrounded bronze statues of a man and woman, bearing their uniforms with pride. The main building’s face was tall; the other edifices jutting from its sides were half its height. Very few windows specked the tops of the wall, so Maren couldn’t see how much activity occurred inside. Given that there was a crisis situation in Howin, the police might be too occupied to hear their report now. 

“We’ll get him back,” Mav said, still watching the receding cop cars. “Don’t worry.” 

“I’ll try,” Paul said. “It’s just... he’s been my best friend for basically my whole life. He defended me from bullies, stuck by me when my parents died, and inspired my faith in the Eternal Winds. He encouraged me to pursue what I want and not to take no for an answer.” 

Paul sighed, staring at the ground. “He got me through some of my darkest times. I need to help him through his.” 

Maren bit her lip, JJ’s response about Paul being a good friend echoing in her ears: Well I’m not. 

“I get that he wants to help people,” Maren asked. “But vigilantism?” 

Paul sighed. “When Bishop Diego came back from the mines last week, something seemed to snap in JJ. Suddenly, all he could talk about was removing the city’s ‘filth.’” 

“He saw Bishop Diego do something grand,” Mav said. “He also wants to leave a mark.” 

“I think so,” Paul said. “He began talking back to the priests, going out when he wasn’t supposed to, ignoring his studies. He’s been... difficult. But if he’s beginning to fall, I need to be the wind beneath him to let him soar again. Or, at least give him enough of a buffer so he doesn’t break when he hits the ground. You can’t abandon your friends when times get tough, right?” 

Ice colder than the Cailleach’s frosted Maren’s heart. Good thing they reached the front doors to the station, so Maren could deviate from the conversation. She held the doors open for Paul and Mav, both of whom smiled at her as they entered. Phoenix’s smile – which she’d learned all too late was likely fake – flashed in her sight. Shaking her head, blinking away tears, she entered the building as two large vans pulled into the parking lot. 

Inside, a metal desk in the shape of half a hexagon dominated the center of a sterile-white room. Several receptionists were speaking, staring intently at screens. From behind, doors leading to different rooms and buildings were opened and shut quickly, people in uniform moving with hastened steps. An edged air pervaded the space. 

Yeah, definitely in crisis-mode. 

It took more than a minute of standing at the desk, staring awkwardly away from the receptionists, before one of them ended a call. 

“Yes?” she said, face looking like she was done with life. 

“We need to file a report,” Maren said. “We’re a–” 

Boom! 

A powerful force shoved her forward as shards of glass hailed from behind. Her chest slammed into the desk. Pain flared along her squashed breasts, yet the only sound she made was from the air escaping her lungs. 

Eyes tearing, Maren hit the ground. Gunshots sounded overhead, deafening all other noise. Through blurry eyes, Maren caught sight of Mav struggling to his feet, while Paul lay down, barely moving. 

“You good?” Mav asked, gripping Maren’s leg. 

A red line ran across his upper abs, from where he’d hit the counter. Rivulets of red ran down his arm; a small shard of glass sprouted from his shoulder. 

Maren nodded, signing that she’d lost her breath. Cops came from various hallways, pulling out firearms and aiming at the intruders. People wearing all black rushed into the building, trading fire with the police. All the while, Paul stirred feebly. 

A stray bullet hit the desk, inches above Maren’s head. Mav’s eyes widened, pleading a silent question. Maren leaped up, beginning to grab the top of the desk. Mav gripped Paul, flung him over his shoulder, and in a single movement vaulted over the desk. They all landed into relative safety. Three more shots pounded against the metal. 

Three receptionists were on the floor, one ducking with her head below her hands and another huddled over the third, who was groaning with a large glass shard in his shoulder. More gunshots sounded. Mav looked ready to pounce, but he stared at Maren, both worried and expectant. 

“Go,” Maren grunted, struggling to breathe. “Don’t die.” 

“Yes, ma’am.” Mav hopped over the desk, fire blossoming over him. 

The floor rumbled from a distant boom quiet to her ear. Another second later, a third blast went off, also in the distance. Looked like this was a rather large operation, in which she was useless until her breath came back to her. 

Until then, she’d have to trust that Mav could handle himself against armed opponents.