They turned guns on me, and I flew up and away, trusting the darkness and the rain that fell in people’s eyes to give me cover. The bright shots stabbed randomly up into the sky. There were some that didn’t need eyes, instead having powers that Teacher had granted, but they were wretched, less people with added enhancements, and more slaves who had lost more than they’d gained in ability.

It was easier, like this. No doubts, a clear enemy, no having to juggle my allegiances and compromise my thoughts to fit someone else’s goals. I could put Amy out of mind, let the dust settle, mend and care for myself.

I hit the large group with the case they’d withdrawn from the trunk of the car, bowling into people with the wretch only momentarily active. The incoming fire stopped—any miss would hit a friend of theirs, but they had other methods, including makeshift melee weapons.

I leveraged my fear aura, turned to outright shoves, flying knees to vital areas with no wind-up, and backhand strikes with my hand enclosed in a metal-braced glove. I fought through the tide of thralls, and if they might have found their footing and hit me back, those opportunities diminished to almost nothing as the fear aura slowed them down and gave them second thoughts.

They were thinker-one, tinker-one. Each gave up a lot to get access to that power. They were enemies of the city and enemies of Goddess. Were they here for us? Had Goddess been right about them tracing the echoes or traces of her power to those affected?

I hit a man hard enough he might have lost teeth. He might have been innocent, a regular man who’d been promised power and paid too high a debt, losing all independence. I reached the box they had been carting. The Wretch emerged to strike at it, shattering wood.

The contents, as far as I could tell, were a long flat rectangle broken up into fragments, a sheet of exposed metal mesh. There were engines or generators, wires with exposed metal, and reams of extension cords—enough electrical stuff overall that the box had required four people to carry.

I checked nobody was close enough, brought out the Wretch, and I smashed it. Whatever it was Teacher wanted to do here, I didn’t want to let him.

Smashing done, I turned away, flying to the nearest clearing, so I could survey the situation. The Wretch was still active, and as I moved, it dragged things in the dirt behind me.

It had taken up weapons—spears and twists of metal. It held them high, ready to stab and twist, bend and snap.

Worse, with people bowled over, there was nothing to deter people from shooting at me. They were realizing it, turning on me. This was too much offense, when I very much did not want to kill anyone Goddess didn’t want dead.