Hasdrubal turned one scarlet eye to Jean-Claude. His voice was a bray. “Congratulations, Old Hand. You have failed, which was the most noble and correct thing you could have done.”

“I didn’t know the tyrant cared so much for old bones,” Jean-Claude replied. Why did Hasdrubal want the reliquary? It wasn’t as if they were particularly hard to come by. Nearly every temple he’d ever set foot in claimed at least one saintly remnant. Jean-Claude reckoned that the saints must have actually been snakes, judging from how many rib bones they’d left behind to be venerated.

Hasdrubal said, “I have done the tyrant’s bidding and have seen your roi cast down, but it is not enough. You should take joy. The lie of lies has been exposed. I will bring an end to everything the Breaker has wrought.” Hasdrubal made a sweeping gesture toward Jean-Claude and company. “Kill them.”

“Marie,” Jean-Claude called. Bullets were their best chance against a Seelenjäger. They couldn’t shift shape while they had metal in their bodies.

“Empty,” she replied, her voice toneless.

The Last Men charged. Hasdrubal changed into a chimerical form that was part mountain ape, part hard-shelled crackback and bounded away, crashing through the press of people still trying to get out the door and scattering them like autumn leaves.

Jean-Claude grabbed a banner pole and used it like a quarterstaff. He cracked a cultist’s skull and swept the legs from under another. Djordji cut throats and punctured lungs. Marie plunged into the fray, slashing a man’s belly open with her short curved blades.

The ceiling caught fire and hot ash rained down. A flaming timber crashed onto to the benches, setting them alight. The final few cultists broke and ran.

“Out, out!” Jean-Claude retrieved his good sword, and ran for the vestry with Marie and Djordji on his heels. He had to make sure Rebecca had escaped. He pelted through the residence then out into the alley and saw her nowhere. He prayed she’d gotten away cleanly. If Hasdrubal really was just after the reliquary, he’d have no reason to chase her or the orator.

He hurried around to the front of the building, calling Rebecca’s name. At the front steps, rescuers were ducking into the burning building to pull out those who’d fallen. The heat grew like the inside of a furnace being stoked. Jean-Claude joined the smoke eaters, grabbed a groaning trample victim by his tunic, and dragged him out.