“You are not her,” growled Saint John in a low, feral voice. His pale face grew flushed, and his dark eyes filled with a dreadful light. “You steal the name of my goddess and you profane everything that is holy.”

He spat onto the ground between them.

“I never said that I was.”

Benny pulled her arm. “Nix, come on.”

“And you, boy,” growled Saint John, “you damn yourself by speaking her holy name, and you do it in the presence of a saint of her son’s sacred Night Church. No fire exists in hell to burn that blasphemy from your soul.”

“Hey, look, pal,” snapped Benny, “we’re not blaspheming anyone or anything. And if that’s what it sounds like, then we’re sorry. Like she said, we’re not who you think we are, so we’re just going to leave. Pretend you never saw us. You go ahead and do whatever it is you were doing, and we’ll be out of your life and—”

Saint John spat again and took a threatening step forward, his fists balled. “Where are you from? Are you scouts from Sanctuary?” His eyes flared, and he bared his teeth. “That’s it, isn’t it? You think you can spy on the holy children of my god in order to lay a trap for us?”

“Still don’t know what you’re talking about, man,” said Benny, “and we’re still leaving. Adios.”

“You pathetic maggots,” sneered Saint John. “Do you think Sanctuary can hide from us? Do you think it can withstand us? We are the fists of God on earth.”

“Whatever,” said Benny.

“Sanctuary will fall, as every other town has fallen, as all evil must fall. The reapers will open every red door and wash its streets in blood. You cannot hope to defy the will of the only true god. Thanatos—all praise to the darkness.”

Saint John reached into the billowy folds of his shirt and drew out two knives, and he did it so quickly and smoothly that they seemed to appear magically in his hands. Benny had seen enough skilled knife fighters—Tom, Solomon Jones, Sally Two-Knives, and others—to recognize that this man was a master of these blades.

Nix saw it too, and she stopped backing away and settled into a wide-legged shooter’s stance. “Don’t be stupid,” she warned. Her voice did not sound like that of a fifteen-year-old girl. Benny knew that she was deadly serious.