Not many things frightened Lilah in life—till now she’d thought herself immune to fear but seeing Lander’s head roll to a stop made the world turn gray. There was no feeling there.

Karen Blackwell’s collapse was silent—she crumpled like a discarded puppet. A car engine broke through the night and shut off. Rosemarie and her sister pushed through the crowd but halted, even their heavy breathing faded.

Tine was the last to push his way through, a sketchbook in hand. He was the first—the only one—to defrost and approach his son’s stone body.

There was no way he could have known who it was—the statue had no head. But he knew, though and he knelt beside it.

No one moved, no one said a word as Tine, sketchbook in hand, tried to gather the listless figure up with little success. Putting that book down would have been the logical thing to do. He’d brought it as if anticipating his son’s routine jail time.

When it became clear to him he couldn’t pick Lander up, he instead pulled at the arms. His movements were slow and deliberate. Somehow, they helped because the statue took on a crouched posture, not so different from how Lander’d fallen.

Tears in his eyes, Tine looked around and took the shaky steps needed to reach the head. He reached out, but Escott stomped on it, cracking it in two.

Tine darted for him. The crowd came to life. Enough people held would-be attackers back, attackers who were more plentiful where Escott stood.

After stumbling to his feet again, Tine gathered up the pieces and brought them to the body which he tried to pick up yet again.

No one dared approach Escott who still huffed and puffed with each second that went by.

Tine put a kiss on one of the broken pieces and crouched up around the cumbersome stone in his arms. He rocked back and forth but then he did something unexpected—something that shocked Lilah and surely everyone there. Tine spat at Escott’s Eza’s feet.

Escott’s right eye twitched. He didn’t take up the challenge. Maybe he’d remain calm and everyone still standing could make it out of this alive.

“Arrest him,” someone said. Karen Blackwell shoved Rosemary and Princess aside as she rose to her feet. She barked at a nearby enforcer. “You’ve witnessed what he’s done. Arrest him. Arrest him!”

“What happened to your sister was unfortunate,” Tine said, muttering against Lander’s remains. “It was unfortunate.”

Lilah swallowed down her panic. The tone didn’t sound apologetic, it sounded antagonistic—maybe a grieving father’s way of provoking an attack, whether for an excuse or an act of suicide. This was bad.

As slow as she dared for fear of startling either of them, Lilah reached for the gun at her back.

Tine still watched the ground as he continued, “It’s unfortunate. And even more unfortunate because she wasn’t someone he would seek out. She initiated this, got herself killed, and you blame him. I guess that’s easier than admitting to what she was.”

Escott moved so fast an audible gasp broke out. Lilah was too late. Escott pounced before she could react. Tine didn’t retaliate.

One sweep of Escott’s claws sent a guttural cry echoing into the night as Karen hugged Tine and the ruin close, shielding them.

“No. No. No. You can’t have him, too. No! No.” She took the next strike the same, but there wasn’t a third—Rosemarie blocked it with her right shoulder.

When Princess rushed to stand before all of them, her belly poised before her, Escott finally stopped.

He stepped to the right, but she met him. Rosemarie held her hand and stood by her side, shielding Karen Blackwell.

Maybe all the years of giving birth to Newbreed children had some lasting effect, maybe it was having an imp lover that caused Karen’s fast rejuvenation, but she did heal, albeit slowly.

She lost power, though Tine didn’t reach for her—he didn’t let Lander go.

Rosemarie and her sister rushed to Karen’s aid. “Mrs. Blackwell. Mrs. Blackwell,” she called. “Are you all right? Mrs. Blackwell?”

“Tine....” Karen struggled to move, but the pain forced her down on her belly again. “Where is he?”

“He’s....” Rosemarie didn’t appear to have an answer.

Tine wept, sketchbook and rubble in his hands, a broken statue in his embrace.

“He’s...he’s alive.”

When Karen finally managed to get to her feet again, her fancy frock torn in the back, she kept close to Tine while eyeing the enforcers. “You’ve made an enemy today. You all didn’t even do us the courtesy of handling this proper.”

Some people watched the ground, some watched Tine because no grown man—or imp—should ever cry like that, but Escott eyed Karen.

“Where do you come from? Where do women like you and Lilah come from? You piss ice water. You believe your own lies. You feign humanity for a second and then it’s gone.” Escott ripped the badge off and threw it on the ground. “You want to kill me? You’re welcomed to try because I’d be more than happy to send you to hell with that useless excuse you spawned but didn’t throw away properly.”

Words like those should have had Tine up and fighting, but he cried more. He also wouldn’t let go of the body.

Lilah watched, as did others, as Rosemarie and Karen Blackwell dragged Tine to the car. Though Rosemarie managed to pick him up and toss him inside, Karen shrieked and rushed in as well, checking him over. He still held parts of the statue though the bigger pieces were gathered up by Princess Blackwell, big belly and all.

More than once, the thought occurred to Lilah to help them—if even to get the pieces in. She wasn’t sure if that was right. She wasn’t sure how it would look. She wasn’t sure if those actions would be seen as choosing sides.

She lost her chance when Arma stepped out of the crowd and motioned for Princess to stand. Arma gathered most of the pieces up. The first enforcer she looked to for help threw his badge down, much like Escott had. That caused a domino effect. A pile of badges littered the cobblestone soon after.

Escott’s Eza stepped from the spectators and helped Arma, careful with keeping the pieces together. They all went into the back of that car with Tine who was inconsolable though Karen Blackwell tried.

When the Chief helped with the last of it, Escott finally relaxed from his fighter’s stance. That was a comfort because Lilah feared he might ram that car and tip the grieving family over. It would be terrible and beyond forgiveness, but she wasn’t sure what to think any more.

Arma helped Princess into the front seat. Rosemarie started the engine and tried to hold her head high as she backed up and sped off into the night—the new weight of the stone making the car sit so low that it dragged on the ground with each bump.

Lilah watched them, but Arma watched her.

Equally curious, Lilah waited to see what this bald E would do. Arma walked to stand beside Escott, but she said nothing. And twenty minutes later when Escott lumbered into the street, heading back to the farm, Arma walked beside him.

Other people left as well—namely, every Newbreed enforcer on staff.

Imps worked in a pact system, the leader being the final authority. If Newbreeds had a leader, no one would dispute Escott’s claim to it. That was made all but too clear in how fast the Newbreed division dissolved. Literally overnight, they were all gone.

Something else was unbearable about the night—the Chief and his spouse who refused to look at one another.

Escott’s siblings were the last ones to leave, all bawling as they walked home. The Chief and his wife remained to care for Gwen.

By the time Lilah figured everything out and worked up the courage to go see her, she found Gus-Gus crying at Gwen’s bed side. The window period for a body to solidify wasn’t long. Gus used that time to turn Gwen’s corpse to make her appear to be sleeping—a big grin on her face.