The aged child spoke in his unnerving sandpapery voice, talking to all of them, to no one, to himself. Kyle noticed for the first time that he had a trace of an accent. “He would not give my father the money, the fat banker. He had plenty but we were immigrants. He put us out on the street, and I prayed. I prayed for help, I prayed for revenge. I prayed. And the god appeared to me, and I made a statue of it, and I kept praying, and it granted my wish. I wanted to help people like my father. They wanted to…” He trailed off, turned toward Worthington and Pickering, an expression of hatred on his face.

“We only—” Pickering began.

The wizened boy lifted the idol and smashed it on the ground. There was a…flash, only it was neither a light nor a sound, more a feeling that shot through the building and everything in it, as though the destruction of the object had released some sort of unseen energy. To Kyle, it felt as though he’d been jolted awake from a sound sleep.

Then it was gone.

In order to make sure the object was completely obliterated, Theo apparently intended to stomp on the remnants of the statue, but he collapsed just as he was raising his leg, falling to the floor at the foot of the cabinet.

Screams were erupting all around. Desks were on fire. Customers were fleeing, but many of the employees were rooted in place, engulfed in flame. Pickering and Worthington no longer existed. Where they had been there were only outlines of bone dust, and though Kyle had not seen it happen, he knew that that flash had obliterated them.

“Everybody out!” the sheriff ordered. He picked up Theo’s unmoving body. “Issac!” he yelled. “Radio the fire department! Hank! You and the others help the injured out of here! Now!”

If the bank burned, the whole block would probably burn. Or, at the very least, his store and Trixie’s would. There was no way the fire department could arrive in time to save their businesses, not at the rate the blaze was spreading.

But the fire did not actually spread. In fact, Kyle was not sure it was even a fire. Because he felt no heat, and as the cold flames engulfed individuals or objects or areas of the bank, those people, places and things disappeared, replaced by emptiness. Grabbing Anita, who was holding tight to Jen’s hand, and pushing Nick in front of him, Kyle fled the building. Outside, the flow of refugees was pushing off the sidewalk out into the street. Sheriff’s deputies were helping men and women escape. He saw one of them dragging Gary out, the flesh of his former employee’s face half burned away. Gary looked stunned, confused.