“How very Russian,” she said, wiping at her eyes. “You won’t last five minutes without me. Come on.”

“Why? Where are you going?”

“I thought you wanted to go to Paradise.” She moved to a shop doorway, and checked left and right.

Petrovitch jogged after her. He saw Father John usher his flock behind a row of abandoned cars, then start back up the road toward them. His stiff movements and set face showed his mood.

The nun was busy pulling her robes off and bundling them up. When the priest arrived, she thrust them at him.

“You have to come with us, Sister. It’s your duty.”

“Father. I can’t.”

“You are not free to make that decision.” He grabbed her arm. “Madeleine.”

She shrugged him off with such violence that he was thrown backward to the ground. “I have to go with him. That’s it. I have to.” She slipped her fingers under her veil and peeled it off.

Petrovitch stepped forward and helped the priest up. “If it’s any consolation, I don’t understand this either.”

“This… this is all your fault.” He snatched his hand away. “Sister. If you leave now, you might never be able to come back. You’re breaking your vows.”

“So it seems. It’s getting to be a bit of a habit.” She barked out a laugh. “Hah. Habit.” She was down to her impact armor, interlocking sheets of fabric that looked like fish scales. She held up her gun and peered around the corner. “Clear.”

“Looks like we’re not hanging about. Sorry, Father.”

“What did you tell her? What?”

Petrovitch was at a loss. “Just that what I was doing meant something.”

“And what she’s doing doesn’t?”

“It’s her choice! I haven’t asked for anything.”

Sister Madeleine snagged Petrovitch’s collar and pulled him after her as she made a short, darting run to the next piece of hard cover. She pushed him against a set of window shutters and crouched down. She scanned the road ahead, ignoring the plaintive shouting of her name.

“Go again,” she said.

She trusted him not to wander off this time, and let go of his coat as she headed toward a car parked sideways to the curb. Petrovitch ducked beneath the level of the roof and looked through the windows.

Smoke drifted in dirty clouds between the buildings. The occasional shot rang out, but nothing too close.

“I appreciate that I’m only a filthy heathen, and it’s probably not my place to say anything, but are you sure about this?”

“All I’m going to say is that you’d better make this worth my while.” She pulled her plait over her shoulder and looped it around her wrist.

“I’ll try not to disappoint you.” Petrovitch thought he could make out figures in the distance, and he jabbed his finger forward.