"No!" The Watcher was completely frightened. Words could be explained away, particularly if they sounded like nonsense to the other men in the room. But a werewolf, fanging the throat of a Watcher who would have to fight back with his spectacular weapons.... Nothing in the world could keep the rumors from spreading. The chrysalids might even learn, finally and irrevocably, the origin of their species.
"Your obligation, brother," the Insurgent half-laughed, and kept stalking toward the Watcher. Perhaps he is my brother.
And if he is...?
No difference. The shadows are thick and very dark. One of the other men shot him in the side, but he sprang for the Watcher, carefully human, to hold the Watcher to his debt, and the Watcher shot him three times in the chest, once in the throat, and once in the stomach.
The shape of a cross? Did he believe it himself? Was it true? A plus sign, cancelling a negative force? Who knew? Shadow, shadow, all is darkness.
He fell to his knees, coughing, in victory. Score one more for the Insurgents, and a Watcher, at that!
"Thank you, brother," the Insurgent murmured, and fell into the long sleep with a grateful sigh.