Convincing the medical technician she didn't need a trip to the hospital was easier said than done.

"I'm fine," Maggie stressed as the woman again tried to coax her from leaning on the bumper of the ambulance and into the back.

"It's protocol," the taller woman said, venting her frustration by ripping open a packet of gauze. "All civilians affected by a Breached Incursion are to see a medical professional."

Maggie didn't groan, but it was a near thing. She looked past the medic to the bustle of official people in their windbreakers, moving under the stark blue and white glow of the R-triple-A's drones. Some agents were giving statements, others standing by the devil's corpse with their hands on their hips. The devil had already started to break down, degrading into ash, and if they wished to get anything usable off of it, they would need to act fast.

Sighing, Maggie looked at the medic again. "Listen, I'm not—."

The woman pressed the gauze against the scratch on Maggie's cheek. She must have gotten it from the debris flying through the air and hadn't realized it. The medic pulled the gauze back—.

"Huh?" the woman questioned, blinking at the clean bandage. Already the dried blood on Maggie's skin had started to flake away, leaving behind a shrinking scab.

Maggie sighed. "I tried telling you, I'm not a civilian. I mean—not a regular civilian, anyway. I'm Sighted," she said under her breath, shifting on the bumper. "Just not like—."

She glanced toward the group in black armor standing by the devil. They chatted, laughed. A cigarette dangled from one of their mouths as he checked his watch. The blonde woman on the roof had disappeared.

"Maggie!"

She winced and cursed in her head, refusing to look up as someone jostled their way through the crowd of onlookers. An agent tried to stop the person, holding out a hand.

"No civilians past this point."

"That's my sister!" the familiar voice barked. "Get out of the way. I have a license—."

Maggie ducked her head and pretended not to see the person shouldering their way past the agent and marching toward the ambulance. She only looked up when Murai stopped next to the technician, his eyes already fixed on her face. The technician glanced between them, still holding the gauze.

"Maggie, are you all right?" Murai demanded.

"Of course I am," she sighed, leaning away from the technician. "Can I go—?"

"Is she all right?" He turned his attention to the technician next when he didn't get the answers he wanted out of Maggie. "What happened? Does she need to be taken to the hospital?"

"I—," the technician stuttered before shaking her head. "Who are you, sir?"

"I'm her brother," he said, straightening his shoulders. The motion pushed out his chest, the muscles stretching his shirt in a way that had the technician gawking. Maggie sighed again.

She didn't blame the woman, really. After all, her brother Murai was Sighted, and most Sighted were tall and athletic and obnoxiously pretty. 'Statuesque' often came to mind when trying to describe them, as much as she didn't want to admit it.

Those born with the ability to see souls—that white light spilling from the chests of living beings—were gifted, both physically and mentally. They appeared in movies and on runways, broke Olympic records, earned billions of social media clicks, and were the only ones capable of killing devils in Incursions. They stood out and commanded attention. The Sighted were special.

Well, most Sighted.

Maggie was just...Maggie.

Grumbling, she stood up and peeled off the last of the tape, shaking the dust off the front of her shirt. "What are you even doing here, Murai?" she asked, confused. "I didn't call you."

In answer, he held up his phone. "Your name popped up in an incident report," he said. "I got a notification."

"What?" Maggie said—and then she looked at the technician.

"It's procedure," the woman said in her defense. "If you really are Sighted, then—."

Murai interrupted again. "But she's not gifted," he insisted. "Not like other Sighted. She doesn't have the same kind of strength—are you sure she isn't hurt? Did you check her over? Did you—?"

"I'm fine, Murai. I still heal fast. Stop it," Maggie hissed, putting space between herself, the technician, and the back of the ambulance before they could crowd her into it. She yanked her satchel up off the asphalt and slung it over her shoulder. "And I'm really late for work."

She made a beeline away from the scene, and predictably, her brother followed. They squeezed past the drones and one of the Sighted who still lingered, who blinked when Maggie marched by and elbowed the agent taking his account of the incident.

"Isn't that the civ that Charmant almost got crushed—?"

Maggie's ears burned.

Murai sucked air through his teeth and pushed back one of the drones when it came too close as it tried to cordon off the area. The fiberglass panel cracked under his hand, and it whirred away.

"You should go home," he said to her, and Maggie sighed, having already expected him to say as much. "Mags, I know you heal fast, I know. But you could be hurt and not realize it—."

"I know I don't have a gift like you—." She pulled a face, unable to help the bitterness in her voice. "But I'm still Sighted, and I told you I'm fine. I'm not made out of paper, y'know."

Warm fingers encircled the top of her arm, drawing them both to a stop just shy of the main avenue.

Maggie knew, standing next to Murai, that she didn't much resemble her younger brother. He was tall, muscled, had a great complexion and eye-catching features. He dyed and toned his hair a bright, stylish blond. Their brown eyes had the same notes of maroon in them, but his seemed to glow like amber in the sun.

Maggie, on the other hand, was short with soft, skinny limbs and had little presence. Her hair was the same pin-straight, black color as most residents of the island, cut in a bob, and she had a habit of making what Murai called her "sour face" when lost in thought or reading.

"It looks like you've bitten into a lemon," he'd laugh. The jerk.

Most of the Sighted were perfect. Intelligent, beautiful, athletic. Maggie knew better than most what it was like to be one of the few who wasn't.

"You're not Sighted like me, Mags. Don't pretend I'm the bad guy here," Murai said. She had to strain her neck to look up and meet his eyes. "You don't even have a license to be in Incursions. You failed the exam, remember?"

Maggie pursed her lips and looked away, face hot.

He let out a huff. "Ah, man. C'mon—I was worried, okay? I got notified as your emergency contact and rushed over as soon as I could."

"I'm sorry you were worried," Maggie grumbled, picking at a thread on her satchel. She hated making trouble for Murai. She was the older sister; she should be worrying about him, not the other way around!

"I know we've talked about it before, but I wish you'd consider staying home. You know, help mom."

Maggie took in a sharp breath. Not this again. "Mom doesn't want help."

"Doesn't mean she doesn't need it." Murai shrugged one of his large shoulders, wincing. He was probably bruised from earlier, but by tonight, it'd be gone. "It's dangerous out here, Maggie."

"I know it's dangerous—I mean, look at what just happened, Murai! I received all of the same training you did when we were in school," Maggie pointed out, her tone sharp. "I should be doing more than working a register. I'm not defenseless, Murai."

"But you are," he replied, frustration leaking into his voice. "You are, Mags. It's not the same as school out there. It's a different kind of dangerous. You're not—."

"Not what?" she retorted, and he fell quiet. Maggie ran a hand through her hair, wincing at the dust and little fragments of plaster she knocked free with her fingers. Quieter, she added, "If I don't get going, I'm going to lose my job. Again."

"Then lose it." Murai shrugged. As if it was that easy.

Maggie snorted. "You're such an ass," she told him, reaching for his hand. "And what? Let the family go hungry? The rent? Mr. Zhang would love that when he comes looking for his check."

"Let me worry about it."

She studied her brother, standing there in his plain t-shirt and jeans.

He was wrong; even if she wasn't as strong or fast as him, or gifted with a power like other Sighted, she was still capable. She wanted more than a dull job at the konbini. She didn't want to sit at home to be convenient for Murai.

She could do more. She needed more.

Maggie took a breath and squared her shoulders. "I'm going," she said, squeezing Murai's hand. "Ya going to walk me there or just stand there?"

He frowned, but Murai fell into step next to her. Neither said anything else as they walked, leaving the rubble of the Incursion behind them.