Jon is surprised to be hugged, but he relaxes and pats Quentin on the back. The fight had not been hard enough for long enough to make it hard to shake off the haze of battle.

“You’re not going to die. None of you.”

I cannot promise this, he thinks, though he has spoken loudly enough for all of those sheltering to hear it. I should not. This is happening almost every moment, all over the city. But these creatures won’t have them today.

Then, there’s the bad news.

“How many of them were there, trying to smash the glass?”

Quentin had implied that there was more than one monster: Jon is sure of it. But he has only killed one.