After eating her lunch and ordering baklava for dessert, Third slipped out, ostensibly to go to the ladies’ washroom, but she continued out the door to the greenhouse out back. One of the reasons she liked this restaurant was it grew much of its own seasonings.

That and the Greek-ish menu. She was fond of Greek food.

She caught a whiff of hash and followed the scent to Janni’s father, who slouched against a table—on the end with the unused clay pots that the restaurant sold with cuttings, rather than by the basil that was on most of the table—wearing blue-collar local.

Drugs tended to be legally obtainable, in this somewhen, but that didn’t make them have any fewer risks or side effects. Her TamLin had used them when he could, to dull his sensitivity to Jumps, but Third had never dared try them, herself. Nameless couldn’t afford to handicap themselves.

She stared at the cigar in Janni’s father’s hand for a long moment, intending it to be as a question—but she glimpsed what was under his skin, climbing up his hand. She froze.

He let out a long puff of smoke and flexed the hand belonging to the Infested arm. “Figured you’d notice.”

She met his gaze—the blue of her eyes came from him, obviously, as did the darkness of her hair. “Janni thinks you’re dead.”

His slight smile was at odds with the regret in his eyes. “I am.”

Those eyes would give her nightmares, later, but Third found them comforting anyway. Mergers weren’t easy to kill, and if he’d been Nameless… He’d be even more difficult, than most.

And the first thing the infestation did, when creating an Infested, was remove the host’s ability to kill themselves. Third had seen people try, desperate to die at their own hands so their loved ones wouldn’t have to kill them. Those were the ones younger Nameless tended to train on, because the host was still lucid enough to at least fight the infestation’s urge to protect itself.

It wouldn’t be the first time Third had to eliminate someone she knew—and to be honest, Janni’s father was a stranger she’d met, briefly, years before. But…his universe didn’t have Infested.

They’d met when he slipped into her universe, though.

He gave her a slight smile and nod, saying yes, she’d guessed right—that his infestation was from her universe.

Her fault.

“Now, don’t you go thinking that,” he said gently. “I was dumb. Assumed that our universes were sufficiently similar for the doctors back home to be able to handle it. Delayed the spread, but…”

Third knew. She’d seen the progression, often enough.

She checked their surroundings. People were busy taking advantage of their lunch breaks, not watching the man and girl of questionable income chatting by the basil. The two of them were weren’t invisible, but they were far from the center of attention.

She sidestepped to near his side. “Message?” Still-lucid Infested persons often wanted their loved ones told some last thing. Usually sharing it got the Nameless deliverer spat upon or struck, but Third would do her job.

He shook his head. “My wife and I… We staged my death years ago, once we realized…” He looked away. “We agreed it would be easier for the kids, so… There’s nobody to take a message to. Thanks for asking.”

Easier for their children to think some accident had killed him, rather than his forays into another universe? Hard to think that true, for a jumper like Janni. But… “For Nev,” his firstborn daughter, Third agreed.

She had been young when she’d met him, but she was sure he hadn’t gotten Infested then. She could only guess why he’d intentionally Jump back into a hellverse.

Only guess, and remember his expression when he realized they’d have to leave her behind when they escaped her universe for theirs, and wish she didn’t take after him quite so much.

“Third…” He sighed, and she waited for him to finish. “You know I wouldn’t ask this of you, if I had anyone else who I could trust to do this.”

She took a small step back, tucking one hand inside her sweater. “Lie.” Cruel of her, to call him on that, but he reminded her too much of herself. She prompted, “Janni?”

His daughter was Named, yes, but she was every bit as capable of killing him as Third was—maybe more, because she had more control over her mods, more stability. Janni didn’t have a governor chip, blocking most of her abilities because they were likely to kill her, if left unchecked.

Tears welled in the man’s eyes—the eyes of Janni’s father, not hers; she’d never had a father. Before Third did something crueler, something that drove him to give up entirely and let the infestation take over, she plucked a knife from the belt hidden by her oversized sweater and stepped around him, stumbling into the table.

Her blade found its mark and returned to its sheath—she’d clean it later, replace the sheath—and the pots fell, some crashing to the ground, some breaking.

As he collapsed to the ground—still alive and in a lot of pain (but not for long, and the infestation would die with him because nobody from this universe would have any mods for it to latch onto)—she backed away, into a passerby, with enough force to continue the chain reaction of stumbling and jostling and confusion about who had started what.

Third scurried away from the mess, as if overwhelmed by the noise, and let herself back into the restaurant hallway, breathing harder than she should’ve been.

First stood across the hall and a little way up from the ladies’ washroom, waiting for her. He spotted her and tilted his chin in inquiry. She answered with slight shrug as she approached.

As she reached him, he turned towards the restaurant proper, and they both headed back to their table, where her lunch and two servings of coffee and baklava waited.

“I was beginning to think Nev had picked you up,” he said.

“Nev?” Third asked promptly, because she wasn’t supposed to, so the question would get First focused on making sure none of the witnesses would necessitate her being punished for it, distract him from noticing any little tells that slipped from how unsteady she felt. She already knew their Nev would be joining them in that universe soon, if she wasn’t already there.

Nev would kill Second. Nev would stick Third in a cage and poison her and leave her to watch as she killed Second.

Why would Nev kill Second?

First’s expression tightened as they slipped into their seats. He knew why Third acted out—understood it, even—but that didn’t mean he liked it. “I think she might be around.”

And Nev would be all too happy to assume Third was a Breach. With their universe’s TamLin dead, the clutch had no keeper, so Nev would be free to assume the worst and kill Third.

That still didn’t explain why Second would die.

“What took you so long?” her brother asked. “Smelling the basil?”

She did like the scent. Janni’s father had chosen to die near the basil, so maybe that was something else the two of them had in common.

Third took a bite of the baklava, ignoring the coffee. If she were to be fighting for her life, she would need to be operating at full capacity, not woozy from her coffee allergy.

As she started on her lunch, she glanced at her left wrist. Digging out the governor chip would hurt.

Third abruptly remembered that First had asked why she’d been delayed. “Work.”

He raised his eyebrows. “This universe keeps you busy, then. That’s good.”

Never mind that the job she’d had to do had been a holdover from their home ’verse. Considering First was about to lose his wife and Third suspected she’d be the reason for it, she was willing to let him believe what he would. Janni’s father had come to her, not him, when he needed death. She wondered if First remembered their father.

She took another bite of baklava, wondering whom she’d trust to off her, if she ever needed killing. The only person she’d ever trusted that much was their keeper, TamLin, and she’d driven him into killing himself.

Her brother frowned, but he followed her lead and ate dessert.