His belly is full. Bursting, practically. Any moment now Candlefly expects the buttons of his shirt beneath his suit to pop off and ricochet around the limousine like wild bullets. Since being here in the city he’s eaten fairly light: a salad here, a little fish, a cup of oatmeal, and of course the requisite amount of human blood (warmed up – he, unlike some of his fellow daemons, prefers it that way as cold blood tends to unsettle his stomach). But this morning! Ah. Time to let loose a little. So close to the end now, his body was all but begging for a hearty breakfast! Three eggs, two pancakes, real maple syrup, blood sausages.

Powerfully delicious. And now he feels like his furnace is full of coal. Ready to burn.

Haversham sits next to him – a damp dishrag on all the good feelings. Sweaty palms on trembling knees. Finger continually pushing his glasses up his nose.

“You seem tense,” Candlefly says. He grabs Haversham’s knee and squeezes hard.

Haversham almost yelps. “I…” Then he swallows whatever he was about to say.

“Is it about the old goat? You did well, Haversham. What’s your name again? Your first name. Milton.”

“Milton, yes.” Haversham clears his throat, coughs into his hand. “It’s not about that.”

“By the gods, Milton, we’ll be at the dig site in–” He checks his watch. “Less than ten minutes. Don’t make me chase this down like it’s a stray dog. You can tell me.”

“I just don’t understand what we’re doing.”

“What do you mean?”

“What… all this is about. I thought it was about…” His eyes shift left and right as though he’s worried someone could be listening. “The Organization. Our business.”

“The business of a criminal enterprise, you mean? Illicit goods and prostitutes and protection rackets and the like?”

“Well. Yes.”

“It… is about all that. Or will be again. But first we have to… soften the city up a little. Are you a cook?”

“What?” A flash of confusion mixed with irritation. “No.”

“You get a tough cut of meat like a… chuck roast or a pork butt and you can’t just apply heat and eat. You have to roast it. Low and slow. Maybe a little smoke. Let the tough connective bits break down. Let the fat and juices warm up and seep into the meat. Then you can just… pull it apart with your fingers. This city is like that. It’s a tough hunk of meat and I need it yield to my fingers. Do you understand?”

“Y… no. Frankly not.”

“This city is going to fall. Today. We’re going to knock the giant to the ground and when he falls, his body will be ours. The city is the giant. A metaphor.”

“I understand the metaphor.”

“Good. Could we have done this without the Organization? Of course. But when the city is evacuated–”

“Evacuated?”