We rushed for the Hummer and piled in. Thomas got it started just as Mantis Girl sailed down from overhead and landed on the hood of the Hummer, denting it in sharply.

“Goddammit! ” Thomas snarled. He slapped the Hummer into reverse and started driving backward—while emptying his gun into Mantis Girl. Bursts of fluttering insect forms flew up from the gunshots instead of sprays of blood, but judging by the screaming it hurt her plenty. She tumbled back off the hood and vanished.

Thomas manhandled the Hummer into a turn, and we left, heading back out into the heavy snowfall.

We all rode in silence for several moments while our heart rates slowed and the terror-fueled adrenaline rush faded.

Then Thomas said, “I don’t think we learned much.”

“The hell we didn’t,” I said.

“Like what?”

“We know that there are more than five Denarians in town. And we know that they’re signatories of the Accords—who apparently object to Marcone’s recent elevation.”

Thomas grunted acknowledgment. “What now?”

I shook my head wearily. That last spell had been a doozy. “Now? I think…” I turned my head and studied the unconscious Gard. “I think I’d better call the Council.”

Chapter Fourteen

Now that I had not one, but two supernatural hit squads with a good reason to come after me, my options had grown sort of limited. In the end there was really only one place I could take Gard and Hendricks without endangering innocent lives: St. Mary of the Angels Church.

Which was why I told Thomas to drive us to the Carpenter house.

“I still think this is a bad idea,” Thomas said quietly. The plow trucks were working hard, but so far they’d barely been keeping even with the snow, ensuring that the routes to the hospitals were clear. The streets in some places looked like World War I trenches, snow piled up head-high on either side.

“The Denarians know that we use the church as a safe house,” I said. “They’ll be watching it.”

Thomas grunted and checked the rearview mirror. Gard was still unconscious, but breathing. Hendricks’s eyes were shut, his mouth slightly open. I didn’t blame him. I hadn’t been standing watch over a wounded comrade all night, and I felt like I could have taken a nap, too.

“What were those things?” Thomas asked.

“The Knights of the Blackened Denarius,” I replied. “You remember Michael’s sword? The nail worked into the hilt?”

“Sure,” Thomas said.

“There are two others like it,” I said. “Three swords. Three nails.”

Thomas’s eyes widened for a moment. “Wait. Those nails? From the Crucifixion?”

I nodded. “Pretty sure.”

“And those things were what? Michael’s opposite number?”

“Yeah. Each of those Denarian bozos has a silver coin.”

“Three silver coins,” Thomas said. “I’m drawing a blank.”

“Thirty,” I corrected him.

Thomas made a choking sound.“Thirty?”

“Potentially. But Michael and the others have several of them hidden away at the moment.”

“Thirty pieces of silver,” Thomas said, understanding.

I nodded. “Each coin has the spirit of one of the Fallen trapped inside. Whoever possesses one of the coins can draw upon the Fallen angel’s power. They use it to shapeshift into those forms you saw, heal wounds, all kinds of fun stuff.”