I shoulder through the crowd and arrive at the south-facing side of the building. I pass a gate and walk down a stone path through a wild garden until the crowds begin to thin. When I’m certain no one is looking, I scramble over an iron fence and drop onto the other side. Moving at a half jog, I reach the building and put my hand against the structure. I feel its vibrations—the crowds inside, chanting.

The wall is ancient and, I’m certain, at least half a metre thick.

Atoms. That’s all we are. Every living thing. Every solid object.

Dancing neurons.

I take a step back. I breathe. I empty my mind. I don’t think about anything but my breathing. I let myself sink into relaxation.

And I walk through the wall.

—

Long ago, with the Old Man and Frankie, I stood in line and we walked through the towering front doors of Notre-Dame and stared up at the Rose Window. I recall being quickly bored and begging them to leave. I was seven. But I can still remember the echoed stillness of the cathedral. Rows and rows of pews and a suffocating fragrance of incense, candlewax and polish. None of that is here now.

The first thing I notice is an enormous sand-filled pit surrounded by a high mesh-wire fence, where rows of pews had once stood. Next, tiered seats, rising to the stained-glass windows and holding a heaving, volatile crowd. The last thing I notice is the smell. A stink of body odour, mixed in with blood.

I’ve emerged under one of the seating stands with a clear view through legs to the pit and the two fighters squaring off. One of them is a monster of a man, stripped to the waist and built like a circus strongman—thick-necked, barrel-chested, arms and shoulders like legs of ham. His eyes are black and soulless. Dead eyes.

A Reaper. No question. Shifted into its human form.

The other fighter wears a hood that hides his face in shadow, but I can see the twin gleams of his dark eyes. And I know, in a heartbeat, it’s him.

Malik.

He cocks his head to the side, as if listening to a faraway sound.

He knows I’m here.

“Can you feel it building inside?” a voice booms in English—clearly for the benefit of all the foreigners packed into the place—and a cheer goes up.