Behind him the demon crashed into the solarium. Its skull heads circled around in the air, its red nostrils pulsing. Malden ran through where the door had been and out into cool night air, the demon hard on his heels. It got one of its skull heads and two of its legs through the doorway before the second and third floors of the house collapsed all at once on its back.

The noise was beyond imagining, like the earth opening wide to suck the entire city down into the pit. Debris was everywhere, tumbling and arcing through the air, entire rafter beams dancing end over end across the Ladypark Common. A rolling cloud of plaster dust hit Malden like a tidal wave and he was knocked down by the shock wave. A piece of glass jagged as a knife blade cut across his forehead, and blood made red tracks through the dust that covered his face.

Choking and heaving for breath, he got back to his feet and surveyed the destruction. It looked like a storm had loosed every lightning bolt in its quiver at the house, all at once. The villa had become a chaotic hell of rubble and wreckage, with barely two boards still standing attached to one another. In the mess, a few small fires burned, while dozens of small animals, freed from their cages in the ruin, burst into flight or went howling away on long legs or only crawled or slithered out of the cataclysm.

Malden could hardly believe his eyes. This had been his plan all along, of course, but even so—the damage was immeasurable. The destruction utterly complete.

He started to dust himself off, but stopped when he saw something moving inside the debris. A massive board was heaved clear and then a snowdrift of plaster went sliding into a cavity in the heap. A pink, raw arm reached up from inside and hauled at a crossbeam that was still mostly intact. Little by little the demon pulled itself clear of the remains of the house. Its skull heads lifted clear of the wreckage and its mouth began to howl once more.

“Bloodgod take my eyes,” Malden cursed.

The demon had survived.

Chapter Ninety-Two

Chapter Ninety-Two

A minute earlier, outside:

Bikker took a step toward Croy’s left, but did not advance.

Croy stood where he was. Ghostcutter’s point tracked Bikker as he moved. Croy had lived with the sword so long it took no effort at all to keep it pointed at the bearded swordsman.

This would all be over in a moment.

One strike—and Acidtongue would carve Croy like a chicken. The vitriol on its blade would sear through his flesh and he would be undone.

One thrust—and Ghostcutter would drive through Bikker’s shirt of chain, pierce his vitals, and leave him gasping in his own blood. Assuming Croy had enough strength left to complete the stroke.

“Are you ready?” Bikker asked.