Evan slid out of the car, face placid as any Saint could hope for. I made to follow him, fist still clenched around Baby, but as I went to stand up I was suddenly jerked backwards.

“Uhn!” I grunted as I came down hard on the seat, feet scrabbling at the pavement. “What the?”

I tried again, slower, and this time I saw what was happening. My entire body could exit the vehicle no problem, except the hand holding Baby. She rebounded against an invisible barrier. Frowning, I pulled harder. She vibrated against the unseen force, but still couldn’t pass.

“There will be no need for swords,” said the old woman on the steps.

“Leave it.” Evan was watching her, but he turned his best senior-partner face on me.

Gritting my teeth, I had to force myself to open my hand. Baby thunked down onto the seat, looking forlorn and abandoned. Feeling petty, I made no attempt to put on a Saint’s expression. As I came around the car, I was openly glaring at the tiny woman.

“We’ll talk inside.” Saying nothing else, she turned toward the doors of the restaurant.

When they opened at her approach, I tensed, but it wasn’t more magic. Tall guys in black slacks and white button-downs, like waiters or busboys, stood on the other side. I guess it was just a stereotype that all Asians were short. After Evan and I passed through, the guys pulled the door shut behind us. The back of my neck prickled as they watched us go by.

Cacophony greeted us: food sizzling, knives chopping, voices calling out orders in a rapid language. The whole scene was like something from a fast-paced five-star, not a small town take-out.

We followed the old woman down a tiled corridor to a small office. The normalcy of the space was almost disappointing after the ordeal in the car, just a small room with a computer desk and a couple chairs.

“Sit.”

Ever the picture of our people’s ideals, Evan moved to the chair and sat down. I was a beat behind, palms still itching for Baby’s reassurance. Stiffly, I took the second seat.

Up close her scar was clearly a splash mark covering her entire right eye and part of her cheek and forehead. The eye in the center was cloudy and lifeless, a bit lazy like it didn’t work at all. Then she looked at me, and I recoiled. Not because of the scar (several Saints had sacrificed an eye to the mission), but because both of her eyes fixed on me. Somehow I knew the blind eye wasn’t so blind after all.

“You,” she said. “You’re the scion.”

I couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t answer if I wanted to, petrified by that unblinking, seeing-yet-unseeing eye.

“No.” Evan threw his arm between us, breaking her stare. Trying not to cough, I sucked down a few shaky breaths. “I’m the senior partner. You’ll speak to me.” She turned her gaze to him instead. To his credit, Evan was unphased. “Why don’t you tell us who you are, and what you want?”

“I am Mrs. Song.” Her mien was that of a general addressing the muck. “What I want is for you to leave.”

“We mean your people no harm,” he began, but she rolled right over him without even raising her voice.

“And yet, harm always follows your profession.” It wasn’t a question.

Evan tried again. “We’re here to help.”

“We don’t need your kind of help,” Song said.

“People are going to die. Soon. We can stop it."

“When have you ever stopped anything?” She gave a humorless smile. “Avengers of the innocent, you call yourselves. Not defenders.”

“Because we don’t usually get there in time to stop it,” Evan said. “This time we can.”

“You won’t,” she said flatly.

“We can try.” His voice was still calm, but firming up.

They stared each other down for a long, silent moment.

“Do you know who suffers when slayers and vampires go to war?” asked Song.

“Who said anything about war--”

“Everyone else.” Her calm declaration cut right through Evan’s protest. “You sweep across the earth like a nuclear cloud, leaving the fallout to rain down upon the rest of us.”

“That isn’t true,” Evan said quietly.

“It’s more true than your own name,” came the rejoinder. “The so-called saints claim to be removed from the world, and yet act as if you are lords of it, as if your very presence grants you jurisdiction wherever you happen to be. Not here.”

“This isn’t some territorial dispute.” For the first time there was a spark of heat in Evan’s voice. “People are going to die.”

“And why should that bother you?” she asked. “Isn’t mortality a fate worse than death to your people? Isn’t that why you call the undead the Damned? To be reunited with the fullness of spirit in a world greater than this, that’s what you fight for, slayer. Death, not life.”

I knew I should say something to help him, but I wasn’t sure how. She seemed to know so much about us, and we barely knew her name.

“If you wish to be apart from this world, be so. Leave it to those of us who live in it.”

“Respectfully, ma’am.” Evan had banked his temper. “We are in this world, just not of it.”

“We are in the ocean, just not wet,” she mocked. “Spare me from the propaganda of children.”

For the first time, words failed him. That hit me where it hurt more than anything. All of my unease vanished as a cloud of anger rolled over me.

“We have a job to do,” I barked. “And we’re not leaving until it’s done.”

Evan went still beside me.

“The truth at last.” The barest suggestion of a smile, of victory, turned the corner of her mouth. “Not a holy commission, but a job to perform.”

My ears burned. “That’s not what I--”

“What my partner means--”

“Enough!” She raised her voice for the first time, just enough to cut over us. “For over thirteen decades my family has protected the ignorant mortals of this town, and we have never needed the support--or permission--of the slayers to do so.” She flicked her fingers toward the door. “You will leave by nightfall. Never return.”

Without another word, Evan stood and reached for the door. I shot up to follow.

“Seth,” she said, and I froze. “Names have meanings, scion. Do you know yours?”

Chosen. The answer came easily in my mind, I’d always known, but I clenched my lips together to avoid giving her the satisfaction of an answer. But as I scurried after Evan, I was sure she already knew.

The wall of noise rose up immediately as I left the office, surreal after the quiet menace of Mrs. Song. Despite her lack of stature, she had more than made up for it with sheer presence.

Evan was already almost at the end of the hall, and I picked up the pace to reach him. The same two busboys stood waiting to grant us egress. We stepped outside and I could breathe easier.

My partner didn’t stop to enjoy the fresh air, heading straight for the car. Bracing myself, I followed. Once inside the cab, his hands landed on the wheel, gripping tightly.

“I said I would do the talking.” His voice was flat and hard.

“I was just trying to help,” I started, but he cut me off again.

“Help?” He wouldn’t look at me, staring out the windshield. “We just looked like utter fools in there, like the children she thinks we are.”

“She already hates us,” I said. “All the Saints, apparently.”

“I’m not talking about her,” he said. “I’m talking about you. Once again James the Younger thinks he can do whatever he wants.”

“That’s not fair,” I said.

“Fair doesn’t matter when it’s true,” he scoffed.

“I’m sorry,” I said lamely.

“Don’t be sorry,” he said. “Just do what you’re told. I’m the senior partner. You answer to me. It’s not that hard.”

I couldn’t say anything to that, staring at my clenched fists trembling in my lap.

“Oh, now you have nothing to say,” he said, turning the key. The car rumbled to life as if it had never been enchanted. “Why don’t you practice keeping quiet until we join Esperanza? It might help you remember how this is supposed to work.”

Heat prickled at my eyes, and I squeezed them shut. We left the alley in silence.