Jess, sickened, watched him deliberately fall backward and disappear into the hissing flames below. If he wasn’t dead from the fall, the Greek fire would eat him to the bones.

“Down!” Glain yelled, and she shoved him forward as she hit the marble steps next to him. A leaping shadow passed over them, and Jess looked up to see that one of the giant Roman automaton lions had taken a position in front of them, facing the Forum. It set its metallic bronze paws and roared with such volume, it nearly deafened Jess.

When he raised his head, the entire incident was over.

The Forum was deserted—a suddenly blank stretch of old stone littered with belongings and packages that people had abandoned in their haste to be gone. The Greek fire behind Jupiter burned brilliantly, stretching halfway up his legs, and in the flickering, sickly light, it looked as if the god might be melting, but no, it was a trick of shadows. Jupiter was made of hardy stuff.

There were eight bodies near the feet of Mercury across the way, crushed and lifeless. Jess swept the area with a long, straight look, but he didn’t see anyone else who’d been hurt or killed.

“Nine dead,” he said to Glain. “For what?”

“For what it always is,” she said. “A statement.” She was already on her feet and offered him a hand up, which he was happy to take. Strange; he seemed weak and a little shaky now, where he’d been ice-cold and focused before. “They knew the Artifex was coming. This message is meant for him.”

“Thrown right at us, though. Seems more personal than that,” their squad leader remarked, coming up to them. He looked them over. “Good job, new dogs. Didn’t have a chance to acquaint ourselves earlier. I’m Tom Rollison, but most call me Troll.”

“Glain Wathen, sir. Jess Brightwell.” Glain answered for both of them.

“I know who you are. Wolfe’s puppies. Word was you’d be trouble.” He looked beyond them at the blaze of fire behind the statue. “Word was wrong. That was well done.”

“Brightwell’s a better shot than most,” Glain said.

“Not bad,” Troll agreed. He glanced over Jess’s shoulder and frowned just a bit. “Seems you’ve made a new friend.”

Jess turned.

The Roman lion, standing taller than his head while on all four paws, was right behind him, staring at him with unholy red eyes. It lowered its bronze-maned head and seemed to smell him, and a low rumble of a growl rattled deep inside the thing.

“Jess?” Glain said, and took a step backward. “Step away. Slowly.”

When he tried, the lion took a step forward.

“What the hell did you do to them?” Troll asked from behind him. Their squad leader sounded unnerved. Jess didn’t blame him. He didn’t dare look away from the lion’s set metallic face, from the sickening red eyes. “Wathen! Get out of the way if it’s malfunctioning!”

She didn’t want to go, Jess realized; she was standing next to him even though every instinct told her to retreat. “Get away,” he told her. “This is my trouble. Move!”