The first froze just as Leo burst into the room. He halted for only a second, then drove the point of his silver blade into the spine of the frozen Grigori.

“Zi yada!” Ava said again, louder. Another stopped. The third lunged at her, but Ava grabbed Kyra and threw herself out of his path. Within seconds, Leo had killed the two remaining attackers. One still twitched while the others stood frozen. Ava watched as they dissolved like statues melting into the sky.

“What did you do?” Leo asked.

“Fallen magic,” Ava said. “Can you get a window open for me?”

Leo kicked the chair out of the way. “Will it work at this distance?”

“Hopefully?”

“It’s worth a try.” Then he stopped and turned. “But will it affect the Irin?”

Ava paused. “I don’t know.”

Kyra said, “It only worked one at a time on the Grigori. Maybe you have to direct it at each person.”

Ava looked at Leo. “Should I try it?”

“If it freezes the Irin down there, they’re dead.”

“Especially since I have no idea how to undo it.”

Kyra stepped forward. “Try with us.”

“What?”

Leo nodded. “I’m Irin. She’s Grigori.”

“But—”

“If you knock me out and Leo’s still moving,” Kyra said, “you’ll know it’s safe. And if you knock both me and Leo out… just do your best. It can’t last forever.”

Ava eyed the open door.

“We’ll barricade the door,” Leo said, tossing her the short staff that looked more like a sawed-off broom handle. “You can protect us, Ava. But we need to try.”

“Okay.”

They pushed as much furniture in front of the door as they could. It was an older office, dusty from disuse and isolated about halfway up the building.

“What if I can’t reach them?” she said, eyes darting to the fighting below.

“We try. That’s all we can do,” Leo said. “Now, Ava.”

“Aim the spell at me,” Kyra said. “Leo, stay close. They’re fighting close to each other.”

Leo stood behind Kyra, one arm around her waist. “Now.”

Ava took a deep breath and focused on Kyra. She stared at her, felt the power grow in her belly.

“Zi yada.”

Leo caught Kyra when she fell.

“Did you feel it?”

“I felt it, but it didn’t hit me. I just… felt it.” Leo carefully placed Kyra on the floor, then ran to the window.

He yanked the drapes down, and Ava saw his thumb circle his left wrist. The power coursed over his skin as his talesm glowed for a moment. He held the drape up to the window, then with one powerful punch, the glass blew outward.

“Try now, Ava. The children are getting closer. You have to try.”

Chapter Twenty-seven

MALACHI HEARD SARI SHOUT as he cut through another small body. He’d already vomited everything in his stomach as he defended the Irina from the children’s attacks. The Grigori boys darted around and under the blades of the scribes, and none of the Irina spells seemed to work.

He had slain hundreds in his long life. Felt his enemies’ blood stain his face. Felt their death rattles under his hands and watched the life drain from their eyes before their bodies turned to dust.

But Malachi had never faced a fight like this.

His enemy carried the face of the innocent. He had to battle every instinct to protect as he beat them back. One singer lay unconscious in the arms of a scribe, her leg hacked off by one of the children. Other singers had wrapped their robes around their throats, trying to guard their voices from the relentless assault. He felt the blood drip where they’d jabbed their knives at his face and chest. Malachi was certain he’d lost part of an ear, trying to disable them without killing.

He’d knocked as many unconscious as he could, but there had been some who’d left him no option. The beautiful children knew their advantage and took it as their elder brothers attacked the Irin front line.

Struggling through the attack on the Irina, the scribes had been pushed to the gates of the cathedral, their focus now on keeping the Grigori back as long as possible, hoping that more Irin would come. Hoping that Kostas’s men would be able to kill Grimold. Without the angel’s direction, the Grigori soldiers would lose their focus.

“Sari?” he called over his right shoulder. “What do you see?”

He threw two unconscious Grigori children away from the circle of Irina and turned. Sari was standing, her hands held up and her mouth hanging open. Two Grigori children lay at her feet, eyes open and bodies frozen.

“What is this?” she asked, pushing them with her foot. “They’re not dead, but…”

“I don’t know.”

He looked up. Ava was hanging out a window, Leo holding her as she stared at the gates of Stephansdom. Her eyes were narrowed and he could see her lips moving. He felt their magic rise.

Another child dropped at his feet.

“Ava,” he said. “She’s using Fallen magic.”

“It works on the children?” Sari said. “Do you know how—”

“I know the word, but not how to write it!” he said, flinging a child from his waist. “I can’t write it, Sari, not even with my blood.”

“Tell me!”

Tears were running down Malachi’s face as he struck the arm of a Grigori boy who’d latched on to the singer at his left.

Mercy.

He was so small.

The boy’s warm blood spurted on Malachi’s face, but he would not let go of the Irina’s throat. Another scribe’s blade reached the child’s neck as he bared his teeth. The Grigori froze; his eyes went wide. His mouth, soft with youth, hung open as Malachi fell to his knees, catching the child’s body before it hit the ground. It shouldn’t hit the dirty cobblestones. It wasn’t right. None of this was right.

The child’s unearthly gaze met Malachi’s as he caught him. They stared for a moment, Irin and Grigori. Then the bright life drained out of his eyes just before the small body dissolved to dust.

“I can’t,” he groaned. “Ava, forgive me. I can’t.”

Mercy.

“Malachi!” Sari was at his shoulder. “Tell me the spell!”

The spell?

“Zi yada,” he whispered. “Make it stop.”

Make them stop.

Sari rose and flung her staff to the side. “Zi yada!”

A child froze mid-jump, then fell to the cobblestones at their feet. He did not move.

Other Irina heard and took up the spell, and the air rang with the shouts of Fallen magic as the Grigori children froze in their attacks.

Malachi looked up, searching for her, his cheeks wet with blood and tears. She hung over the window, her attention directed at the Grigori fighting the Irin scribes.

One by one, they began to fall, writhing in pain as their dust filled the air.

The scribes in the square rallied as their enemy began to fall back. Some of the children looked confused. A few followed their elders, though most continued trying for the Irina, even as their small bodies fell.

Malachi began to pick up the bodies of the fallen children, carrying them to the side of the cathedral so they wouldn’t be trampled. He heard a shout and looked up. Walking down the Rotenturmstraße from the direction of the river and running behind the cathedral came a large group of the Irin. Led by a scribe in Rafaene robes, they walked with grim purpose and more than a few frightened expressions. Some of the men wore business suits that covered their talesm. Some wore scholar’s robes. All carried weapons.

He heard the Grigori hiss and fall back from the edges of the plaza.

The Irin had awoken.

BARAK and Kostas followed the rail tracks north from the Zentralfriedhof, fanning out as the tracks spread west of the freeway.