The two bodies lying under the white sheets on the sidewalk look terribly small. Each time it puzzles me how people seem smaller in death. As if once the soul of a person leaves the body, the remaining husk immediately begins the process of shrinking and disappearing.

We and the paramedics gather our equipment without meeting each other’s eyes. When the boy's father had called us, it had already been too late, and all that could be done was to pronounce the kids dead at the scene. Blood tests will confirm the cause of death, but the scene screams carbon monoxide poisoning. Two young people sitting in a car with the motor running and the garage door closed. Sixteen. Classmates. A tragic mistake.

I mean, it had to be a mistake. Two boys wouldn't intentionally throw their lives away, would they? That wouldn't make sense—but then, so many things don't make sense in this city.

In Bethlehem, there would have been no such doubts. There were no suicides there. Our people have meaning in their lives, simplicity and purity that keep them from temptations—while these two poor souls grew up in the dirt and the decadence of the modern culture. They should have been home, helping their parents, playing with their siblings instead of hanging out in a car. Why did they close the door? Did they do drugs?

Did they do something else?

I shake my head as the fire truck takes us back to the station. Sometimes it feels like Uncle Zachary is talking in my head, and it makes me cringe and squeeze my eyes shut to banish his voice.

Back at the station, as we file out of the truck, we are greeted by Kendra Jackson, the fire inspector. Her usually cheerful face darkens when she sees our expressions.

"Oh," she says, peering into our faces. "Was it bad? Oh, poor boys."

She trails after Baldwin into Lagana's office to hear the updates. We can see their outlines through the white glass door. After a couple of minutes, Baldwin reemerges and goes about his business like the rest of us.

"Ethan." I turn to find chef Lagana heading towards me. "How're you doing?"

"Fine."

Behind him, Kendra is laughing about something with a couple of guys. I wonder how they can laugh so shortly after putting a sheet over two dead teenagers. Will I ever develop the ability to put such things behind me so easily?

"Kendra's on her way to inspect some businesses downton," Lagana says. "I want you to accompany her today."

"But I'm on my shift."

"We have enough staff for now, and you'll be back in a couple of hours. It's important that you get to know the local businesses. Could come useful if they go up in flames."

"You've sent others before?" I've never seen anyone accompany her, but, on the other hand, I'm the most recent addition to the team. Perhaps it's one of those tasks delegated to rookies.

"Some of the guys, yes." He comes closer and lowers his voice. "She's going downtown, you know. Some seedy places down there, night clubs and such. Wouldn't want her to wander there on her own. You know how she is."

That makes some sense, although I'm still surprised to discover babysitting a fire inspector in the list of my duties.

"You won't tell her, right?" Lagana peers at me. "She's a brave girl, could go into lions' den, if needs be, but I prefer to keep an eye on her when she does that."

I nod, looking at Kendra who is heading out way, waving at me, cheerful as ever.

"So, it's you I'm taking places today?" she says, coming closer. "We've got some good ones. The 'Firefly' club, the 'Marshal' restaurant, the 'Golden Leaf' club. Been there?"

"No." I shake my head. "Mike has."