Black smoke boiled from the toppled tower’s base. The plane crash had started a fire, and it was growing fiercer. No way out that way – and the conflagration would weaken the skyscraper’s remains. One way or another, it would soon come crashing down, killing anyone still inside.

He checked the smaller building. The upper floors of his own had mashed into it, merging the two structures together in a hideous snarl of twisted steel. Windows broke as he watched, mirrored fragments hailing down to earth. The tower’s face was perhaps a hundred and twenty feet away. He should be able to reach it by swinging on the hose.

Getting into it would be another matter. Enough glass remained intact to pose a danger. Blow a hole in the windows with the rocket launcher? Maybe, but too many things could go wrong, any one of them likely to leave him as a gooey splat on the plaza far below . . .

Another option came to him. It wasn’t much less insane than firing the Type 08 while swinging through the air over a hundred feet up, but the odds of success were still higher. Slightly.

Eddie readied himself, then slipped over the edge.

The wind immediately caught him, batting him about like a cat toy. Feet together, hands clenching the hose, he descended as quickly as he dared.

Chapter 35

35

The Nephilim warriors warily reached the top of the ski slope. One held his baraka at the ready, the bloodied, helmetless man shouldering his own spear in favour of a trikan.

There was no sign of the woman, but tracks led towards a building. Their prey’s footprints were smaller than most of the others, making them easy to pick out. They followed them through a gap in the trees towards the brightly lit little castle. She must have gone inside . . .

The first warrior raised his baraka – and fired. A tower blew apart, revealing not stone but wood and plaster behind the painted surface. The snow-covered roof crashed down into the wreckage. The second Nephilim spun his trikan, waiting for his quarry to flee the collapsing building—

‘Hey!’

The shout came from behind. Both giants whirled—

Nina stepped out from the trees – she had backtracked along her own footprints before vaulting into her hiding place – and fired the shotgun.

The warriors were only twenty feet away. The helmetless man’s head jerked back in a bloody spray as the tightly spread shot ripped the flesh from his face.

The other Nephilim’s thumb jabbed the spear’s trigger, but it had not yet recharged. Nina swung her gun at him and racked the slide—

It caught mid movement with a clunk. The smoking cartridge had jammed in the ejection port, stopping the shotgun from cycling.

She tugged the slide again. It made no difference. The cartridge was still wedged tight. She didn’t know how to clear it – and now the warrior’s baraka had recharged.

He thumbed the trigger again—