Chris took a couple of steps forward, blocking their view of Ember. In front of them were five people, the centerpiece being a woman. She wore a set of clothes, something one might see peasants wearing—a shirt patched to hell and back, a skirt equally patched, and cloth shoes. Her eyes were hollow and red-rimmed, as if she had been crying for hours. Dirt smudged her face, but seething anger burned in those dead eyes. Enough to make Ember shiver.

  The men behind her were similarly dressed. They carried crude weapons: sickles, rough short swords, knives, and all of them looked just as angry, each one of them grinding their teeth as they stared daggers into the group.

  Chris remained calm as he approached them, almost impassive. “I’m going to assume you’re from the cathedral, yes?”

  The woman snarled. “Step aside, boy.” Her voice was raw. Broken.

  Chris shook his head. “I can’t do that.”

  She spat in front of him. “You’re a heretic, just like him. But we’re willing to make a concession. If you step aside, we won’t kill you.” Ember knew she didn’t want to do that. There was nothing but retribution in her expression.

  Slowly, Chris shook his head again. “Now that’s not a fair negotiation,” he said. “Would you be willing to take some money to let us pass?”

  The men behind her visibly bristled, and tears streamed down her face. “You think my child’s death is worth some pitiful coin?” she said, her voice breaking. “That monster murdered her in cold blood.”

  Ember stepped forward to reply, his stomach in knots and his blood frozen. I didn’t mean to. It wasn’t my fault. He opened his mouth, but Jakis put a hand on his chest and shook his head. Ember could do nothing but watch, his heart sinking.

  Chris remained impassive. “You people were harboring monsters underneath your cathedral. That breaks many guidelines from Bling. An outbreak could have happened at any moment.”

  “Yes,” she said, venom in her voice, “we were willing to pay that price. For that is our own actions. But him—” she pointed a finger at Ember, who visibly shrank from her attention, “—he is not a monster, he was a human. And he decided to kill so many of us, my child included. What makes you think I could ever forgive something like that?”

  “You know very well that he wasn’t in control,” Chris replied, his voice rising ever so slightly. “If you hadn’t stressed him out, that never would have happened. Now, step aside.”

  The woman growled, tears still streaming down her face. “If you don’t move, then you’ll die screaming beside him.”

  Chris went cold and settled into a defensive stance—feet shoulder-width apart, one in front and one behind, both hands up to his face, palms open. “I’m afraid I can’t do that.” His eyes hardened, daring them to move.

  “Then die!” she screamed and charged at him.

  Ember flinched at the pure, raw intensity in her scream as she rushed toward Chris and swiped down with her sickle. Chris quickly countered, blocking her wrist with his left hand and slamming his foot into her right knee. She screamed in pain, and a brutal crunch sounded. He then slammed his hand into her throat, and she stopped breathing. Ember watched, horrified.

  Two of the other men immediately jumped him, one with a knife, one with a short sword. He deftly dodged their attacks. Each movement seemed inches from hitting him, but Chris always moved at the last second.

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  A third moved around the brawl, and even though Chris tried to disengage, the other two weren’t having it, forcing Chris to the side.

  “Jakis?” Ember asked, his voice shaky. I’m going to die. Do I even deserve to live? After what I’ve done?

  “Stay behind me. As long as you are within the Guild, your protection is guaranteed. No harm will come to you as long as I’m here.” Jakis drew a knife from his belt and brandished it.

  As the man approached, tears streaming and eyes full of hate, Chris made a move. Pressed against a nearby building, he dodged a thrust from his opponent with the knife and slammed an elbow on his wrist. Before the man could cry out, Chris pried the knife out of his hand and threw it at the approaching threat. It sank into the back of his head with a sickening squelch. Ember gagged, gripping his sword. The man fell just feet from them, blood pooling onto the cobblestone.

  Chris grabbed the wrist of the remaining armed man, disarming him quickly with a twist and breaking it. The man screamed as his hand was bent in an unnatural position, but it was cut off quickly as a sword slashed through his throat, only a wet gurgle following. With a flourish, Chris slammed the sword into the other man's chest, pulling it out and beheading him. As Chris moved to finish off the final man, the last man rushed past his now dead allies, screaming.

  Jakis stepped forward, and as the assailant raised his sword, he jabbed the knife into the man’s armpit. With a quick twirl, he pulled the knife out and stabbed him multiple times in the chest before finishing with a brutal thrust into his temple. The man fell without even uttering a word.

  “That,” Chris said as he disdainfully tossed the sword in his hand onto the ground, “is why we don’t have much time. The longer we’re here, the more attacks we’ll have to suffer. So we need to leave quickly and quietly.”

  He looked at Ember, who stood frozen among the bodies. “You’re awfully pale,” Jakis said as he leaned down.

  Ember just stared at the dead. Around them, other people milled about casually. Some shot curious glances their way, but most kept to their business. Jakis noticed Ember’s lingering gaze on the passersby.

  “The Guild will take care of the bodies,” he said. “Situations like this happen every so often, and everyone here has seen a dead body or two. You get used to it—or I suppose numb to it.”

  Ember swallowed hard. “I’m going to have to kill people?”

  Chris nodded. “That’s just the way it is,” he said, twirling a spare knife between his fingers. “Now we need to get going. As I said, we don’t have much time. Thankfully, I have some contacts that might be able to get us out of the city.”

  Ember swallowed down the bile. These people just wanted to avenge their children. Do I have a right to deny that? That thought wasn’t even allowed to settle as he saw another man approaching from an alleyway. Neither Chris nor Jakis noticed him, but he had the same eyes, the same haunting look as he zeroed in on Chris.

  “No!” Yelled Ember, and on instinct, ripped his sword free of its sheath and stabbed the man through the chest just before he reached Jakis. The feeling of the weapon sliding through flesh, and the scream of the man, made Ember release the weapon and stumble back.

  Ember couldn't breathe. His hands were shaking—no, his whole body was shaking.

  I killed him. I killed someone.

  Not with a meteor from the sky. Not by accident. With his own two hands. He'd felt the resistance of flesh, heard the scream, watched the light leave the man's eyes. His stomach heaved. He bent over and vomited onto the street, the stew from earlier burning his throat on the way up.

  "Easy," Chris said, moving to his side. Ember wiped his mouth with a trembling hand. Blood—the dead man's blood—smeared across his face. He stared at his palms. Red. So much red.

  "I killed him," he whispered.

  "You saved Jakis's life," Chris corrected. "That man was going to gut him from behind." But all Ember could see was the hatred in those dying eyes. The same hatred the woman had. The same grief. They all hate me. And they should.

  “That was unexpected, thank you,” Jakis said, as if it were a small inconvenience. Ember stared at his hands, covered in blood. Chris threw an arm over his shoulder.

  “Let’s go. No reason for you to stay here any longer,” he said softly.

  Ember followed dutifully, his eyes snagging one last time on the corpses. The image of the woman—screaming and crying—burned into his head. The crowd moved aside as they passed, many murmuring snide remarks at the now dead group of attackers.