The crack that came from deep in the earth was widening with every step he took.

Ash ran out of the house, pulling Kara behind him. They’d just cleared the threshold when he pulled her into the air, flying them the short distance to the Seine.

One of the reinforced concrete banks had collapsed. A huge fissure ran along the left bank where a geyser was throwing up a fountain of hot steaming water into the air.

The jet was spilling a torrent of water across the Quai Dorsay where the Assembly Nationale used to be. The few blocks between Rue de Constantine and Rue Bonaparte was now one of the most populated areas in the city.

Where the hell was the emergency klaxon? The only sound was the rushing water. Without the alarm bells, people might sleep through it.

“Get over to those houses,” Ash shouted, pointing to the cluster of dwellings directly in the path of the water. “Help them evacuate. I have to try to close this crack!”

Kara ran alongside him. “How the hell are you going to do that?”

“I don’t know! I’ll figure it out,” he snapped. “Just go! People live in those basement rooms.” There were entire families about to be submerged.

She didn’t leave. Instead, she fiddled with her holster, taking out her knife. The blade flashed in the moonlight as she scored a long, thin gash across her palm.

“What are you doing?”

She whirled on him, planting her bloody palm on his breastplate, just over his heart.

“Now you can go,” she said, turning to the houses. She took off at a run, leaving a trail of blood drops in her wake.

What the hell? Stupefied, Ash stared after her like a moron until the klaxon sounded, belatedly kicking in to rouse the populace from their beds.

Refocusing, he leapt into action.

The crack in the riverbed was now the size of a small wagon, and it was getting larger.

I need a plug.

Whipping his head around, he scanned his surroundings. Something caught the corner of his eye. No. Don’t let that be the only thing I can use.

Ash flew up high, searching for alternatives. There was none. He would have to tear down a building, and all the ones nearby were occupied.

Swearing viciously, Ash streaked forward, intent on destroying the most recognizable symbol of the old Paris he knew and loved, the Luxor obelisk.

The nearly three-and-a-half-thousand-year-old granite column had been brought from Egypt in the early eighteen hundreds—a gift from the ruling pasha. It had been given a place of pride in the center of the city, stretching into the sky for years. The demon horde had enjoyed writing obscenities on it, sparing it the fate of most other human monuments torn down after the Collision.

Flying at top speed, he hit the obelisk with everything he had. It didn’t budge. Circling around, he tried again, and again. Nothing worked.

Shit. He was going to need a whole crew out here with chisels and ropes. It would take them hours, if not days, to topple the thing. In the meantime, the left bank was flooding.

Kara was evacuating them. The basement dwellers wouldn’t die unawares.

Wait—the demons’ target practice. During the demon king’s reign, a few of the horde had repaired the old canons from Les Invalides. They’d wanted to shoot at the obelisk for fun. The cannonballs had gone wide, hitting the buildings around the obelisk instead, but that had pleased them more since people were hurt.

I won’t miss, he vowed.

It took a few minutes find ammunition and fuses, and even longer to drag the cannon into the Place de la Concorde. He pointed the barrel at the obelisk, aiming for a point halfway up before lighting the fuse.

Don’t blow up in the barrel, he prayed, covering his ears, squeezing his eyes shut as the blast went off.

He opened them as a chunk of stone fell. He’d managed a direct hit, but the top of the obelisk hadn’t broken off completely. Praying it was enough of a start, he flew up and began to kick and punch. He beat it as hard as he could, targeting the fissure made with the cannon.

Bruised and bleeding, he reared back a final time, putting everything he had in his last strike. A snap loud enough to vibrate his eardrums told him the job was done. He’d managed to break off the tip seven feet from the top of the obelisk.

Now comes the hard part.

Ash’s hands were wet with blood as he gripped the stone. His hold was tenuous, but with a chunk of stone this size, it wasn’t going to get any better. Shoving until the thing came off, he held it tightly enough to avoid sending it crashing to the ground.

Flying was out of the question. The weight of the stone was too much, even for him. He was going to drag it out to the river, and he needed to move fast.

Ash grunted aloud as he pushed the stone. Muscles strained and tore, but he managed to heave the rock to the bank just across from the gaping hole. Just pushing it on top of the geyser wasn’t going to cut it.

Half-pushing and half-shoving, Ash positioned the obelisk fragment at the river’s edge. He counted to a beat of three before reaching down and throwing the stone up in the air. It only cleared the ground by a few inches, but he made the most of them. He sprang behind it, pushing with lightning reflexes and as much speed as he could muster.

He splashed into the Seine, the tip of the obelisk cutting through the turbulent water like a spear. Holding his breath, he aimed the tip at the fissure in the riverbed, stuffing it into the opening like he was corking a bottle.

He worked by feel under the water. The obelisk tip wasn’t a perfect fit, but after he hammered on the flared end enough, pieces broke off to shove into the gaps.

The torrent stopped. Ash looked up, bending his knees to push up from the riverbed. He broke the surface of the water, taking a deep breath. Now that the subterranean geyser was closed, the river’s level was dropping back to normal.

He shored up what was left of the crumbling bank with whatever debris he could find. It wasn’t a permanent fix, but it would hold until morning. He needed to get to the houses downstream of the flood. Maybe Kara had found Theo somewhere nearby.

The basement of the house Kara had entered first was empty. She’d managed to clear it in time. He hoped the occupants of the neighboring dwellings had fared as well.

When he climbed from the basement, there was a crowd milling outside.

“I need you all to count your neighbors. Account for all the missing,” Ash instructed in a loud voice, just shy of angelic timbre. The mumbling ceased, and they scattered before he could add that a clean-up and reconstruction crew would be sent at first light.

It was redundant information, anyway. Bastille’s people had been through enough disasters. They knew the drill by heart. He didn’t have to coddle them, which was just as well. He needed to find Kara and Theo before the boy set off another disaster.

The water made tracking harder, but this time around, Kara wasn’t trying to hide from him. In the end, she was easy to find. All he had to do was follow the scent of death.

* * *

Ash landed next to a tomb depicting a weeping angel at the Montparnasse cemetery. Her face was forever buried in her stone hands. He wondered if she was mourning the loss of man’s innocence.

Kara was lying a few feet away, cradling Theo’s body. His face was white and still above the bloody mess that was his neck. It was almost as if he were asleep. He held a stained shard of pottery clutched in his hands, his face peaceful in repose.

It’s almost as if the maker wipes the slate clean when He calls you home. Ash hoped that was the case.

The moon was bright enough for him to cast a shadow. When it passed over her, Kara looked up. Twin tear tracks sparkled on her cheeks.

“What happened?” he asked softly.

She shrugged, her face crumpling. “I don’t know. I found him like this.”

Ash knelt, putting his arms around her as she wept. Kara opened her hand, showing him the vial all the survivors wore around their neck. Theo’s was broken and empty. “My blood wasn’t enough.”

He stilled, his heart skipping a beat. “He wore your blood?”

“Yes. Sometimes it works, but in the city, the pull of the curse is too strong.” Kara turned back, looking down at Theo’s face.

That’s why she cut herself, marking me.

A shudder wracked her body. “Do you think you can find his killers? Maybe they have his blood on them,” she suggested.

Ash drew back, his lips parting.

Kara frowned. “What is it?”

He winced. “Kara, love, this doesn’t look like murder to me.”

She shook her head in confusion. “What? Of course it does; look at him.”

Already regretting opening his mouth, he stayed silent. She leaned forward and pushed him, shoving his arms away. “Tell me what this looks like!”

He closed his eyes, an ache of sympathy welling up. “There are no other footprints save the two of yours,” he said, nodding at Theo’s body. “He must have run here after the river began to flood. He knew the disasters would keep coming until he was gone.”

Kara sprang to her feet. “No. He is not a suicide. Suicides don’t get to Heaven!” She wiped her eyes with the heels of her hands. The move left a bloody trace on one cheek.

He stood as well, mirroring her movement. “He’s not a suicide. He’s a martyr.”

“But he could have just waited for me!” She sobbed, falling to her knees to grab Theo’s cold hand. “Why didn’t he wait for me?”

Ash didn’t know what to say. Theo had probably realized he’d miscalculated, and he’d done what he thought was best to stop the chain reaction before it got worse. If he hadn’t, the destruction might have followed him all the way back to the wasteland.

Ash let her weep a little longer, hoping she would cry herself out. “Let me have him,” he said after a few minutes. “We can bury him here.”

Most of the cemetery was still consecrated ground, despite the horde’s best efforts to make it otherwise.

Ash quickly dug a shallow grave. He lay Theo inside, blessing him and covering him with soil. Kara sat next to the grave, hugging her knees throughout the burial. When he was done, he touched her cheek.

“I have to get back to the others,” she whispered, but didn’t move.

“That can wait,” he said. She was in no shape to get to the wasteland. Kara needed rest, and he needed answers. “Right now, you’re coming with me.”

He expected her to argue, but she was still in shock. He wrapped one arm around her back and the other under her knees, lifting her into his arms.

His apartments were cold, so he laid Kara down on the bed and covered her with a blanket before lighting the logs prepared in the fireplace. When he was done, he sat on the bed next to her.

The glow of firelight lit her face. Kara’s beauty rivaled any angel in Heaven. “You want to know how it works, the blood?”

“Later. I want you to sleep now.”

Her eyes were wider than normal. She shook her head. “I can’t…what if…can you come lie down with me?”

Ash hesitated, caught off guard by the simple request.

Humans sometimes need physical comfort. It never occurred to him that he did, too.

“Of course,” he said, taking off his armor and pulling on softer cotton clothing. He walked up to the bed, climbing between her and the wall. He lay there awkwardly on his side, wondering what to do with his arms.

Put them around her, idiot—like in the old movies.

Every hair on his arm stood on end as he settled it around her waist. Touching someone this closely was the strangest sensory experience of his life. But Kara curled into his embrace as if it was the most natural thing in the world. She faced him, her eyes fixed on his.

Suddenly, holding her was relaxing. He didn’t understand how that worked. “There aren’t words for what I want to say to you,” Ash whispered.

One fine eyebrow rose in the firelight. “You should try, anyway. It’s the human thing to do.”

“I’m sorry,” he said. “For Theo tonight and for everything else you’ve lost.” His heart ached for the boy he’d known so briefly.

She nodded in acknowledgment. “I didn’t think you would care so much, but you do, don’t you?”

“Theo deserved so much more. They all did. Every Firehorse had a chance to change the world. It was their destiny, and the curse denied them that.”

Kara stared at him for a long moment. She lifted a hand, brushing a lock of hair out of his eye. “I hated you for so long.”

He nodded. “You had every right.”

“Did I?” she asked. “I used to think so. I’m not so sure anymore.”

Ash’s throat was tight, but he needed to say this. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry.” He swore under his breath. “You were just a baby. I used to lie here in this bed and remember. For years, I would see your face, the look in your eyes. Angels don’t go to Hell when they die, but dreaming about you, seeing you every night for years—that was my Hell.”

Kara started, her lean body tensing against his much harder one. “What? What are you saying?”

“I’m saying I know who you are. You’re Katarina Delavordo. Fifteen years ago, I left you in the wasteland to die.”