A few days later.
In a secluded cemetery on the outskirts of the city, two gravestones had appeared, placed side by side.
I went alone, dressed in black.
Wind moved through the bare branches, drawing a sound like quiet weeping from the wood.
I stood before the two graves, perfectly still inside.
I was still standing there, lost somewhere in my own head, when a flash of cold light appeared in the dead brush off to my right.
It drove toward my back with frightening speed.
My pupils snapped tight. There was no time to move.
A sharp ring of metal cut through the air, and in the instant before the blade found its mark, a figure tore from the shadows and caught it on a Damascus knife.
The attacker stumbled backward, thrown by the force.
I was pulled swiftly behind someone.
I looked up
