The Grand Minister was on the sixth floor of the hospital, which provided him an unobstructed view of the surrounding city through the tinted glass. Dead center of the view was St. Stephen’s Cathedral, a kilometer away.

The flare of light wasn’t really light after all. It was fire. A churning, orange inferno had swallowed St. Stephen’s whole, leaving only the megascreen atop the highest tower visible. It still displayed the rotating picture of Lumina Bohn.

With his mouth hanging open, the Grand Minister watched as the megascreen listed sideways, then toppled, breaking away from the tower in a colossal spray of stone and glass, falling down to be consumed in an instant by the flames below. Then the tower itself disintegrated, and he was left staring at a writhing ball of flame, spreading out in the shape of a mushroom.

He’d seen that shape before. He’d seen that hellish mass of flame before. He’d felt the earth shake in just the same way, heard the same thundering boom of explosion.

He knew exactly what it all meant.

Magnus was in the central nave of St. Stephen’s when it erupted into flame. He knew what it meant, too, because he’d seen it all before, too.

“Lumina,” he whispered, sinking to his knees.

The flames swallowed him. Heat and smoke and howling wind, eddies of glowing ashes. He closed his eyes and let the fire test him, let it snap and bay at him like a pack of rabid dogs. It was hellishly hot and every breath singed his lungs, but it quickly turned cool and caressing, the flames gently licking his skin like a lover’s caress.

Lumina’s fire recognized him. It let him go.

He staggered to his feet. Surrounded by fire that didn’t burn, Magnus pushed through walls of flame, buffeted by the wind that fire produces but not harmed. At least not by that. He called out her name again, louder, certain she was here because he’d recognized the images she’d sent, but uncertain how to get below, where he’d find her.

It made sick sense to him now. The religious oppression. The ban on the word “God.” It was genius in its own way. When you wanted to establish yourself as the de facto ruler of the universe, you had to eliminate any and all competition. And if you could use the infrastructure of the enemy to your own advantage, so much the better. Almost all cathedrals had mazes of catacombs and crypts, tunnels and tombs, areas perfectly suited for hiding things. For keeping things away from the outside world.

Things like prisoners.

Thorne had constructed his headquarters and containment center for his enemies right under one of the most famous cathedrals in Europe. And Lumina had grown up within sight of the prison that held her mother.

The earth continuing to shake beneath his feet, Magnus called out to Lumina with his mind; he was answered with silence. Focused, fury pushing him forward, he didn’t notice the cadre of white-suited Peace Guards that had breached the rear doors of the cathedral, pouring into the nave like a swarm of locusts.

THIRTY-FOUR

The electricity was short-circuited by the fire. The lights were extinguished; everything was plunged into darkness. The backup generators, heated beyond operational capabilities, failed. The only system that worked was the sprinklers. Inside the prison, it began to rain.

Still holding hands, Lumina and Jenna stood in the melting doorway of the suite Thorne had built, watching the fire consume him, Three, and all the other guards he’d brought with him. They screamed and writhed, trying to run, but none of them got very far, in spite of the sprinklers.

Throughout the prison, cell doors popped open. Collars dropped from prisoner’s necks. The structure shook and rumbled. Cracks appeared in walls.

Humans died.

Not a single Ikati was harmed. Those that could Shift to Vapor did so, surging into air ducts and slipping through cracks, heading up. Those that couldn’t Shift used their legs to run, preternaturally fast, for exits. Without her collar, their Queen could See them all like stars against a midnight sky. Holding hands with her daughter, she could speak to them all, as well.

Wales! Ogof Ffynnon Ddu! Go!

There was one voice that answered, and that voice Jenna had heard only once in the past twenty-five years. She jerked her head up with a cry, then looked at her daughter with eyes full of love, victory, and anguish. “Your father’s waiting,” she whispered.

Above the howl of the firestorm, Lumina heard the words. But she heard something else, too. Another voice. The voice she loved more than anything else in the world, calling her name.

Weakly.

A rush of terror, sharp as knife blades scraped over her nerves. Her heart like a stone in her chest. Dread married reluctance, and Lumina found herself unable to move.

Magnus! Magnus, where are you?

There was no answer.

Jenna said, “The nave—he’s near St. Valentine’s Chapel! He’s directly above us! He’s . . . he’s . . .”

Her mother looked at her, falling silent, and Lumina saw what she feared most in that look: death.

“No! No!”

Lumina Shifted to Vapor, and was gone.

A single heartbeat later, Jenna followed.

THIRTY-FIVE

It would have been a fair fight, the Peace Guard’s dozens against his one, but for the shields on their helmets. Magnus couldn’t see their faces, their eyes. Worst of all, because he’d been so badly burned by the noonday sun on his way to the cathedral in search of Lumina, he could no longer Shift to Vapor, or cloak himself in shadows to become invisible.

All he had was his strength and his speed against a hail of toxin-laced bullets.

The first spray of bullets missed Magnus entirely, whizzing by his head and blasting through a sculpted marble pulpit beside him instead. He spun away as the carving of dead-eyed angels and pious saints erupted into a blizzard of jagged shards, glinting white. The flames had begun to recede in the main part of the cathedral so he was able to clearly see the flood of Ikati rising up with unnatural speed from the floor just in front of the main altar, where an enormous panel of marble had been shoved back to reveal a twist of stairs leading to total darkness below. The escaping prisoners were joined by glittering plumes of mist, slithering through floor vents and surging up stone walls to hang in suspension far above, some darting toward the stained glass windows only to shrink back when they felt the heat and fury of the sun beating through.

There would be no escape for them until the sun had set. They’d been set free from their cells below, but all were now trapped inside an enormous stone cage, beset by enemies all around.

Above the roar of flames, he heard helicopter blades. Enforcement had wasted no time in showing up for the party.