Micah's game had carried them around the bend in the path, and so Corinne led the way as they traversed the corner, hand still curled around Micah's wrist as she shielded him from the street ahead. Yet nothing greeted them but Rivo, face sheened with sweat as he skidded to a stop before them.

"You're alive," he panted.

Corinne gave a brisk nod, already marching past them both. "Lilith?"

"A little shaken, but fine." Rivo glanced at Micah, then again, his brows drawing in a touch. Micah hurriedly hid his face, dragging a hand over his eyes. His tears must have been horribly obvious. The pinch in his lungs ached with the possibility of more, but he willed them back as best he could. Crying didn't change what had happened.

"I saw Kasper take the gun," Rivo added, his eyes trained on the path ahead. "I would have warned you, but I had my own assassin to deal with."

"Did they get away?" Corinne asked.

He nodded grimly. "He went after Lilith. I think he decided to retreat as soon as he saw me, but he stuck around long enough to flash his blade."

They reached the end of the street, and the meaning of his words became clear. Lilith stood braced against the near wall of the right passage, cradling her arm. A thick line of blood slashed an arc across it, dripping down the length of her thumb where she gripped the wound.

Even the sight of blood was enough for Kasper's image to resurge in Micah's mind. He clutched his chest, his throat scraped in rust.

She straightened at their approach, her eyes wide and bright as a cornered animal. Still, she managed a smile. "My apprentice didn't shoot you."

"Fortunately." Corinne shirked off her coat, bundling it up before wrapping it over the scientist's arm. "He's dead."

Lilith's head dropped, the smile slipping. "I figured." Her lively polka-dot jacket seemed at odds to the emotion dulling her eyes. Micah redirected his gaze to his feet.

"We need to get out of here," Rivo said.

Corinne's agreement showed itself in her returned grip on Micah's arm, dragging him forward. He staggered a few steps, then wriggled free, determined to at the very least walk on his own. Her glance flitted over him before landing on Lilith. "You still have the tracker?"

A crooked grin flickered briefly to Lilith's lips. Her hand slid beneath the waistband of her trousers, the oblong shape sticking out from her thigh only visible as she drew it out and waved it at them. "I stuffed it down my pants. Figured he wouldn't go rummaging down there."

Rivo snorted. Corinne merely blew a sigh through her nose and strode into the lead, rifle jabbing at the narrow path ahead. Readjusting her grip on her clothed arm, Lilith jogged after her, head quickly bowing under the solemnity weighing on the air, leaving Micah with no choice other than to race to follow.

The memory of Kasper's pleading blue eyes dragged at his feet. He tossed a glance over his shoulder, gulping past the lump in his throat. "We're just leaving him there?"

"We have to," Corinne said without turning.

His coat shifted, his wings squirming beneath it. "But it's not--"

"Not right?" Her eyes flashed back, a momentary flicker of dark flame that faltered his step. He hurried to recover when she turned away again. "It wasn't right that he betrayed us, either. Besides, we can hardly drag a dead body across the city in broad daylight, and it's highly likely I was seen shooting him."

"Will you get in trouble?" It was strange to speak the word with so much fear. It quivered his hands in place of an itch. He stuffed them into his empty pockets, conscious of his pistol's absence. Funny how quickly he'd learned to cling to its weight.

She shrugged, her gaze aimed at the shadows as much as her rifle. "I'm always in trouble. One more doesn't change anything."

One more. A shudder rippled through him, nerves quickening his step. He felt Rivo slide in at his back as he came nearly in line with Corinne. He searched the side of her face, his thoughts whirling and darkening.

The shot echoed through his mind, merging into the twilight darkness he'd first heard it cut through. The men that fell in its wake. The silence that followed.

"You killed them too, didn't you?" His voice had dropped, falling to a whisper. "Those... people you saved me from."

"Did you only just realise that?"

There was an element of incredulity to her tone, riding on the usual tide of annoyance, but something else tinged the end of the question as her eyes darted his way. As soon as their gazes locked, he ducked his head, swallowing his shapeless reply.

Perhaps he had known already. Perhaps the knot in the pit of his stomach had been there all along, and he'd simply grown used to ignoring it, desperate as he was to believe that even one human could act with kindness and honour. She'd still saved him, after all. It was hardly his place to question how exactly she'd gone about it.

And yet she'd traded three lives for his without a thought. Try as he might, he couldn't shed the deep-rooted wrongness of that action.

He hardly registered the sharp left they took, sticking close to Corinne as the rows of buildings cast long shadows over them even under the light the sun squeezed through gaps in the cloud. His heart still hammered in his chest, twinging with every flicker of movement he caught, every twitch of a curtain or face in a window. Most averted their eyes hurriedly from the group the moment they looked. One man coming from the opposite direction halted as if stunned, stumbled back a few steps with a wild fear in his gaze, and vanished at a jittery brisk pace into an alley that hardly looked wide enough to be a path.

Micah could blame none of them. He wished he could run as well, even wrestle his wings out from beneath his coat and take off into the freedom of the air, but some scrap of sense kept him huddled between the humans. Trapped as he felt, he had to settle for merely shrinking in on himself and forcing out each step. The sides of the street became meaningless blurs to him, the sky a grey sheet, the ground occupied by only his own feet and Corinne's boots as he trudged endlessly after her.

"This isn't the way to my house," Lilith said eventually, breaking the tight silence that encased them. Even her voice was uncharacteristically low, broken apart by the same tentative hesitation that seemed to have seeped into the present.

"No," Corinne answered in her own murmur. "It's best we keep off the radar for the time being. I'm calling in a favour."

As if she'd timed it precisely, she promptly ducked into a neighbouring alley and rapped her fist against the stonework. Micah's head snapped up, recognition flooding the details of the place as he fully took it all in. Draped cloth hung in place of doors here, a similar material stretched tight over uneven roofs, the stone bricks lacking the polish of some of the other areas they'd passed through. He'd been here before.

"Josephine," he breathed. Corinne threw him a glance -- an indication that he was correct or a warning not to say the name, he couldn't tell -- then straightened as the flap drew back and the face that matched the name came into view.

Josephine drew in a quick breath, her grip on the cloth slipping as she jolted in surprise. Corinne didn't give her a chance to recover. "I hope you weren't lying when you said I was welcome to stay with you."

Sweeping a limp brown lock of hair from her face, Josephine offered a jerky nod. "Of course I wasn't." Her eyes slid aside, landing first on Micah before catching on Rivo and Lilith. She visibly swallowed.

"I'd like to take you up on that offer, if you don't mind. It'll just be for the night."

"I don't mind at all." A strained smile pulled at her lips, and she stepped aside, further drawing back the cloth to reveal the lantern-lit interior. "Your friends are free to stay as well."

"That was the idea," Corinne said shortly, lowering her head to slip through the gap. Rivo had to duck considerably more, his face twisted to Josephine to offer her a warm smile. Lilith muttered her gratitude and scurried in after him, her arm still clutched to her chest, leaving Micah to slide in last. His wings scraped the stone through his coat as he slipped sideways into the room.

It appeared much like the larger of Corinne's rooms had: cluttered, with a set of counters complete with stove pressed against one wall, cupboards lining the space above it, and a table and chairs taking up the centre. The distinction came with the bed shoved into the opposite corner, blankets piled atop it. The child who'd been with Josephine earlier peeked out from amongst them, his expression open and curious.

"Sorry it's so cramped," Josephine said in a rush, gathering up a couple of dirty bowls from the table and sliding them onto the long counter. Her movements were frantic and hasty, cupboards knocking open and closed as she searched through them, hair a tangled mess as it tumbled over one shoulder with her head turn. "Davey and I already ate, but I can put together a stew for you all, if you'd like? I can't promise it'll be much, but--"

"It's fine." Corinne's tone was cutting, but not harsh. Her arms were folded over her chest as she examined the cracked floor. "All we need is a place to stay."

Josephine shook her head, her half-smile settling as she turned fully. "No, I insist. You must have something. You helped us out tremendously last night."

Corinne shrugged. "All I did was walk you home." She sounded dismissive, yet Micah watched the way she rubbed at her arm, discomfort worming into her movements. He leaned a little away from the wall with the vague notion of moving nearer to her, then thought better of it.

"Anything could have happened to us. You kept us safe." Josephine's eyes wandered to the child where he sat toying with one of the blankets. "I'd have avoided going out at night otherwise, but Davey snuck out while I was cleaning and I had to chase after him." Her head bowed. "It's not his fault. He's so little to do that he goes in search of play sometimes. I wish I could do more for him, but..." She sighed, peering back into the cupboard with a gentle laugh. "But you didn't come to hear all that. I'll make your stew." Her eyes flicked to Lilith. "And I'll tend to that wound, miss, if you'll let me? It looks nasty."

"That would be great, thank you," Lilith said with earnest, though her smile was tight.

"I'll help," Rivo said, striding to Josephine's side. He grabbed something from the top shelf and handed it to her. Micah shifted, scratching at his hair, wishing there was something he could do to help. He'd had no reason to disbelieve what Rivo had told him, but this reality he suddenly found himself stranded in etched meaning into the words. Was this what it was like to live in fear?

Not only to live in fear, but to grow up drowning in it. His gaze flicked to Davey. The child didn't look unhappy, his wide eyes taking each of them in with inquisitive eagerness, but still the sight wound a tight thread around Micah's lungs. Jaw clenched, he looked down.

Maybe the problem was how easily that bright, innocent look could mirror Kasper's.

"I'll keep watch outside," Corinne said, severing his thoughts. She was already tearing back the flap, rifle in hand.

"Are you sure that's a good idea?" Rivo asked, leaning away from the counter. "You're recognisable. It might be best to stay hidden."

"And leave us unprepared for attack?" She yanked up the hood of her navy coat. "I'll be careful."

She didn't leave time to argue. The hanging cloth fell back into place, and she vanished, the soft thud of her boots whisked away. Micah watched the material's sway gradually lessen, his hand still buried in his hair. She could handle herself. He knew that. Yet a surprising pang of worry echoed through his chest, deepening into an ache. She'd seen Kasper die, too. She'd caused it. There was every chance she was suffering as he was.

Or she took pleasure in it, as a demon blood would. He frowned. Sensible as it should be, the thought felt oddly detached from reality.

A nudge at his shoulder sent a jolt rippling through him, but it was only Lilith, elbowing his side with her uninjured arm. "Go on," she said, a faint glimmer in her eyes.

He blinked. "Go on?"

"Go after her." She tipped her head. A multitude of blonde strands had slipped from her bun, falling over her face. She didn't bother to brush them back. "Talk to her. I think she needs it."

He curled his fingers into his own hair. "From me?" His heart returned to its hastened thump. "What would I say?"

Her lips quirk on one side. "I'm sure you'll figure it out." She moved closer, placing one hand so that it formed a shield for her mouth to hide behind, her voice dropping in pitch. "Angels are supposed to bring goodness and joy, right?"

A quiet laugh spilled out. "I guess." Slowly, he lowered his hand, glancing between her and the doorway as he backed towards it. Even as he grabbed a fistful of cloth, he threw her another hesitant, questioning look.

She responded with a thumbs up. It did nothing to quell his anxiety, but he accepted the encouragement.

Tearing his gaze away, he ducked through the flap and emerged into the street. It had dimmed slightly; the sky's grey was darkening, the pale orange smudge staining the clouds above the rooftop opposite a further sign of night's approach. The entire day had gone with nothing achieved but tragedy. A whole day spent in Duine. He shivered, flinching back from the sky.

Corinne was a less overwhelming sight to latch onto. She leaned into the nook between this house and the next, almost entirely swallowed by shadows, only her eyes and a strip of her pale face giving her away. Freckles dotted the bridge of her nose like specs of soot. He crept over, ignoring the way her head snapped up at his approach.

"Corinne," he started to say, but she cut across him.

"I'm perfectly capable of keeping watch alone."

The force of her glare was enough to snag a different image, one that accompanied the cold prick of a knife against his throat. He gulped, stopping a pace short of her, frost crawling under his skin.

But that had been his fault too. Trouble didn't have a place in Duine, yet he'd pushed for it anyway. He couldn't blame her for his own mistake.

Nor could he let the burden of his mistakes fall to someone who didn't deserve it. He couldn't freeze when Corinne needed him.

⋄┈┈┈⋄⋄✧♡✧⋄⋄┈┈┈⋄

For every Pup ship, there must be a chaotic mutual friend who is a hardcore shipper. Lilith takes great delight in being that friend.

On another note, Micah bby is sad and I don't like it. This isn't right ;-;

- Pup