Gargoyles and Blacksuits flew; the Judge let her diamond shield dissolve. Ramp was gone.

At its apex, the glass arch held a single flaw. Tara could not look on it directly—the light it shed hit her eyes wrong. She thought it was a woman’s silhouette.

*   *   *

Jones felt the change in Market Square—they all did. The world was dying, but then it wasn’t, and a glass arch bloomed to the north. Jones had never seen anything like it, which in her experience meant her next step should be run to a safe distance and take notes.

She stayed.

Then they heard the cheers—from the sky, from the surrounding buildings, and at last from their own throats, cheering before they knew why, tumbling over one another, rolling and laughing and pointing at the arch and the moon at once smiling and impossibly full. Onstage, the Rafferty girls embraced. Jones saluted Aev and her people, up there in the sky. Then someone tackled her from the side and kissed her, and to her surprise (she wasn’t a casual girl, ask anyone) she kissed back.

*   *   *

Abelard collapsed, laughing and weeping, when he felt the demon break. Cardinals and Technicians rejoiced, overcome by awe.

Then Abelard noticed the moon through the sanctum window, and felt the Everburning Flame warm against his neck, and heard—thought he heard—the clearing of an enormous throat.

“My masters and teachers,” he said. “Our Lord would appreciate a bit of, um. Privacy.”

In five minutes the sanctum was empty for the first time in Abelard’s memory. He was the last to leave.

That’s two I owe you now, the fire said to him.

Don’t mention it, he replied. What are friends for?

*   *   *

Cat was mostly conscious when the vampire crashed to the roof beside her.

She lay in the ruins of her own skin—the Suit ablated to break her fall. She had some broken ribs, one leg didn’t work, and she’d stuffed her fist against the hole in her side to keep the blood contained.

The vampire, fallen, made a crater in the roof. She crawled toward him, dragging her useless leg. He was very still. Then he coughed, rolled onto his side, and vomited a glassy fluid that evaporated as it left his lips.

“Sexy.”

He turned to her, his face a horror mask. She caught his wrist before he could pull out of reach, and held it.

“I’ll—Cat, I am so hungry. It wants to eat and eat and eat. I have to go.”

“Don’t.” She felt as weak as he looked.

“I can’t hold on, dammit. Your blood’s right there, I’ll—” Teeth, out, pointed, dripping. The eyes were Raz’s, and not. A new emptiness at their pits made their colors turn, like ruddy whirlpools. He seemed to be drawing inward toward a point not present in any physical geometry.