Obliterating the bridge was one way of trapping all of the hostages on the island and avoiding chase. But why even leave the hostages alive in the first place? It wasn’t like Clementine had any qualms about killing people. So why let anyone live who could identify or come after her after the fact? It didn’t make sense that she would, especially if she wanted her giants to take over the underworld from all the crime bosses being held in the rotunda.

And it wouldn’t solve the problem of the cops that would be hot on her trail just as soon as someone sounded the alarm. By the time the giants got done in the museum, they’d have four big, heavy trucks full of art—too much for a quick getaway, especially given the twisting, curving two-lane road that led from the museum back down into the city. Clementine had to have realized that. So what else did she have up her sleeve? How was she planning to evade the po-po? That I didn’t know worried me.

“Pack it up and get back to the museum,” Dixon said. “We’ve still got more rooms to go through.”

Hannah grinned. “Sure thing. We wouldn’t want all that art to just hang there, now, would we?”

All three giants laughed. Bad jokes seemed to be the calling card of this crew.

Dixon left the bridge and headed back up the hill, leaving the other two giants behind to collect the gear they’d stowed a few feet away from the bridge entrance. Dixon started whistling, and the cheerful sound made the black, murderous rage beat in my heart once more. I would have liked nothing more than to follow the bastard and knife him in the back for what he’d done to Jillian, but he wasn’t important right now—the bomb was.

Hannah turned off her flashlight and put it down on the pavement while Anton shoved his crowbar back into his duffel bag. Dixon was already out of sight—and, more important, earshot, since I couldn’t hear him whistling anymore.

Knife in hand, I straightened up and headed toward the edge of the garden. Unfortunately, the foliage stopped short of the bridge, leaving about ten feet of dead space and plenty of chance for the giants to see my approach.

I thought about using my Stone magic to harden my skin in case they were able to get to their guns quicker than I was able to get to them. But in the end, I decided not to. I wanted to conserve my magic as much as possible, since I didn’t know how many more giants I might have to fight before the night was through.

So I grabbed my second knife from its holster, drew in a breath, and stepped forward—

A twig cracked under my bare foot.