He raised his head abruptly, jaw tensed.

“On your knees, shithead. Now.” The voice came from behind him. From one of the two guys in puffy coats. I wanted to kick myself for not staying alert to all the dangers of the street, not just rampaging Mazikin.

Malachi stood very still for a moment, his eyes never leaving my face. The second guy took a step to the side, watching me with a smug half smile that sent a jolt of pure adrenaline through my body. I took a step back, and he shook his head. “No, no, don’t move,” he said to me, waving a knife in my direction. “We’ll get to you in a second.”

Malachi’s nostrils flared. “We’ll give you whatever you want.” His voice was shaky and high, saturated with fear that didn’t show in the smooth, steady arc of his hands as he raised them in the air. “Whatever you want. Just don’t hurt—”

He spun, looping one of his arms under his attacker’s, revealing the gun the guy had been holding to his back. With the guy’s arm locked tight against his chest, Malachi jerked to the side so that the weapon pointed away from me. He wedged his elbow against the guy’s throat and then kneed him in the balls, belly, and thigh before head-butting him. Wet squeals and whimpers punctuated every heavy thud. The second guy jumped on Malachi’s back but instantly went careening backward as Malachi drove the kid’s lungs through his spine with an elbow, and then crushed cartilage and bone with a devastating kick to his knee.

It was all over in less than five seconds.

Malachi snatched the gun from the thug’s limp hand. The guy was crumpled on the sidewalk, his nose gushing blood. The guy’s friend scrambled up on his good leg, clutching at his abdomen, wheezy sobs bursting from his throat. He hopped-ran-hobbled away, all crooked and broken and panicked, like a cockroach that had been sprayed.

With a look of absolute disgust and hatred, Malachi tossed the gun into an alley next to us and drew one of the knives from beneath his shirt. I managed to recover from my shock quickly enough to grab him as he cocked his arm to throw it.

“No, Malachi, let him go!”

“He threatened you,” he said sharply, his muscles tensing as he prepared to let the blade fly.

“No! You can’t do that here! It’s murder!”