Can you see anything more than dead cloaks? Sense anything more?

No. Not even magic. I took a deep, calming breath. I’ll go left; you go right. On three.

I raised a hand and began the countdown. As my last finger dropped, we moved as one. He headed left and high; I went right and low.

Nothing happened. The street was empty of life, but it was not empty of death. There had to be at least fifty cloaks between this side of the road and the other, all of them in various states of decay. The stench was incredible.

“Rinaldo didn’t do this.” Jackson’s nose wrinkled with distaste. “He might be a strong telepath, but even he wouldn’t be capable of such mass destruction. And I can’t see any sort of evidence of bullet wounds.”

“No.” I stopped beside him and surveyed the street. The fiery dome that arched high above us cast a weird, almost surreal light over the entire area. There was fire here, but it was some distance away, and the force of it was fading. Whatever fuel had been feeding, it was running low; I doubted it would last much longer.

The remains of the building I’d brought down partially blocked the street to my right, but beyond it I could see a number of run-down two- and three-story buildings. The street itself was a dead end, however, thanks to the high wall of metal and old building material that now blocked it. It was a similar story to our left. Luke had obviously wanted this area isolated from the rest of Brooklyn, which possibly meant this had been the heart of his hive.

Was this where he’d kept the scientists?

De Luca had denied it, but that didn’t mean anything—especially given we’d been sent in to retrieve their research material. Frederick had been a part of Luke’s plans for a while now, so he’d have at least some idea of what was—and wasn’t—going on in the area.

My gaze stopped on the building directly opposite. Even though it was coated in ash and grime, it was in far better shape than any of the other buildings in the area. There was little sign of the decay and destruction that blighted the rest of them. The double-glass entranceway was whole, and open.

We were very obviously meant to go that way. There was even a vague path through the mass of decaying cloaks.

“I’m not liking the feel of this.” Though Jackson’s voice was soft, it seemed to echo across the silence. Something stirred in response.

Or maybe that was simply my fear, projecting forward.

I flexed my fingers again, sending sparks spinning like fireflies into the night. “Shall we take the obvious path, or go sideways again?”