Jared let out a wail so jagged Anji could actually feel the fibers of her heart contract. She gaped at the scene, and nearly dropped the bag down the stairs in her mad dash to get to Berip, to help, to shove all the blood back into his throat.

The Goat yelled a jumble of unintelligible words and smashed one of his glowing purple vials against his chest. Kit slammed her vial to the floor in a fluid motion with one hand as she raised her dagger in the other. The glass crashed, and with a complex word of instruction, everything went white. Anji had been expecting an explosion, but the only issuing sound was that of the vial breaking against wood, followed by a confusion of scuffling feet and shouts of alarm, followed by coughs and gasps. The shock of white seared into Anji’s eyes for a heartbeat, then mercifully began to dissipate.

Disregarding the blur of motion below, Anji leapt down the stairs onto the common room floor as a cloud of acrid orange smoke began to fill the room. Her breath rasped under the mask as she darted through the confused tangle of blades and limbs. Jared lay on the ground on his side, his legs curled, holding the bloody form of Berip in his arms. He loosed a shuddering cry and began to cough and retch. A weight plummeted into Anji’s throat, and for a heartbeat she thought to scoop him up, wanted to drop down to help the lifeless body of the little boy she’d shared a table with minutes before, but her mangled hand was barely holding on to their bags, and she had to get outside to the horse.

I can’t fuck this up. This one thing.

Anji twisted away from Jared as he hurled up another cough and began to convulse. She crossed through the tangle of tables and chairs, her thighs ramming against hard wood, knocking a stool clattering to the floor. The door was still ajar from where the Bear and the Goat had broken through, and she made for it. A hand caught her boot for a moment before she kicked it away and bolted out of the inn.

Oily black clouds swirled overhead. The street had begun to fill with Kiva’s early morning crowd. The horses stood in a line where Kit had left them, huddled against the cold with another, tied to the single post. The Goat’s gray rolled an eye at her as she approached and sidestepped. Anji knotted the bag to the saddle. She bunched the other things into their places, and loosed the lead line.