“How long for you to recharge?” I asked Petra amid another chorus of thunder.

“Another minute,” she said.

Another rupturing sound; another moving sculpture. This one was elephantine but bulkier, stockier. And then the metaphorical gates were open. While Rosantine watched, fed on the fear and confusion, a dozen stone animals—all of them taller than us—began dragging themselves toward us.

“Dislike,” Theo said. “Really, really dislike.”

“Yeah,” I said. This was a new variety of demon-fueled horror show. We were now surrounded by animals, and they were picking up speed as they moved, becoming more lifelike as they moved.

The gorilla screamed silently again, slammed its fist into the dirt. Dirt flew up from the crater it made, the concussion shaking the earth beneath us a few feet away.

We might have darted through the circle to the car, abandoning the field to them. But that would leave a dozen rock monsters headed for the park’s boundaries and into Bridgeport.

Instead, we moved closer to one another.

“Thoughts?” I asked. “Suggestions? Teleportation possibilities?”

“Pants soiling,” Theo said. “That’s my only current thought.”

“We can’t break stone with our weapons,” Petra said, and it sounded more a curiosity—an interesting dilemma—than a concern.

“Well, Theo and I can’t,” I said. “I’m not ruining my blade on those things, and I doubt a gun will do more than send shrapnel into the air.” Which made me worry about Theo the most. He was the most human of us all. (Technically, he was the only human, but I loved a good Star Trek callback.)

“And they’re getting faster,” Theo said. “I would like a very specific plan to avoid becoming dead.”

“Hold until they get close,” I decided. “Hold, and when I give you the signal, run.”

“Did you say hold?” Petra asked, shifting nervously from foot to foot.

“Yes. Let’s see how well they maneuver.”

“You’re thinking they’ll take out some of their own,” Theo said. “That sounds much too easy.”

“It won’t be,” I said. “She’ll see to that.”

A bull as boxy as the elephant paused a few yards away, pawed at the ground, anticipating—a fight? Dinner? Props from a demon?

“It’s like a henge,” Theo said. “If the henge stones became animate and tried to bash your brains in.”

The circle tightened. A bear with wide shoulders shook its head as it moved forward, the motion lifting the screech of grinding rock into the air. Their bulk blotted out the ground lights beyond as they drew nearer like a noose, only small gaps between the animals now . . .

“Go!” I shouted, and we darted into the gaps, ran through the circle. Behind us, the crunch of stone animals striking one another echoed out. When I’d put fifty feet between us, I looked back.

Lightning lit the park, putting the animals in stark silhouette. It looked like an archeological ruin, the ground littered with the broken stones and pieces of sculpture. But only three or four animals had crumbled enough to stop moving.