“Apologies for the delay,” she said. “The stairs caught fire.”

“You—” Marcus’ throat was dry. “That was . . .”

Sothe tensed, hands dropping back to the hilts of her weapons. A crackling roar of flames drowned out the cheers of victory, and Marcus felt a hot rush of air against his back. He spun to find the flames of the bonfire rising high into the air, with a dark silhouette in the center of them, her arms spread as though in benediction. Coils of fire outlined a dark, skeletal mass that might once have been a large man. Then the woman slashed her hand, and the flaming tendrils pulled in opposite directions, tearing the charred flesh in two and scattering blazing bones across the dirt.

The cheers turned rapidly to screams. This was too much, even for the staunchest of the Leatherbacks. Marcus shouted to be heard over them, voice ragged.

“Grenadiers! Go after her! Everyone else take cover!”

He wasn’t certain how many heard, or how many were left after the confusion of the melee. As whips of flame came down, igniting everyone they touched, the Leatherbacks ran for the protection of the buildings on either side of the street. Men and women screamed as they blazed up like effigies, flailing until the fire consumed them. Here and there, a stray grenade exploded with a roar.

“This way,” Sothe said, and Marcus followed her back toward the Silver Eagle building. He ducked as a fiery lash scythed overhead, touching a middle-aged woman who was headed down the street with her arms pumping determinedly. She must have been one of the grenadiers, because she exploded violently at the kiss of the fire, scattering the dirt with shards of metal and bits of gore. Marcus dove through one of the smashed windows and huddled behind the wall, Sothe vaulting past balletically to land beside him.

“Someone has to get word to Andy,” Marcus said. “The grenades aren’t going to be able to stop that thing.”

“I sent someone on my way down,” Sothe said. “She should be on her way.”

Marcus watched the twisting fire demon and felt his certainty draining away. Saints and martyrs. I’m not sure anything can stop that thing. No Leatherbacks remained standing in the open, but Marcus could see a few who’d taken cover in the buildings or amid fallen debris. The demon seemed to be taking its time now, pausing for a few moments before sending a lance of flame punching against a window frame. Screams rose from the other side.

“It’ll just pick us off,” he muttered. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

“Back door’s open,” Sothe said. “We could retreat.”

Then all this will have been for nothing, and thousands of men will burn. “We’ll have to hope Andy’s team will be enough. But they’ll need cover to get set up.”