“Ah, yes,” Lilith said. “They love helping Gabriel’s kids. It makes them feel virtuous. Just don’t show them any of the ugly ones. Tell me this: Do you have any guildling friends? Ever had a mainliner over to your house?” When Jonah said nothing, she laughed. “I thought not. This life is all we have, Shadeslayer. Would you rather we simply dissipate, like a stench on the breeze? I want something better for them . . . for us.” The wind stirred her clothes and hair, so she resembled a goddess in a painting.
Jonah’s gaze swept over Lilith’s shade army. He glanced back at the children, huddled together, whimpering on the bridge.
He turned back toward Lilith. “No,” he said. “Can’t do it.”
“Then we will destroy you,” Lilith said. “Whether you join us or not, you’ll be blamed for the deaths of mainliners. See what kind of justice you’ll get from them.”
She gestured to Brendan. He opened a plastic bag and dumped the contents over the bridge deck. Jonah flung his arms up to protect his head, but there was no need. The contents floated down, all around, littering the cement like flower petals or ashes.
Jonah had no time to investigate, though, because Lilith called out to the waiting army. “Kill the guildlings. Leave the Slayer alone unless he gets in the way. Bring their blood magic to me.” She blinked out.
With a roar and a rattle of bones, the shades attacked.
Jonah charged forward to meet them, his makeshift staff a bright blur in the darkness, knocking down four at a time. They fell in a jumble of bones, some of their limbs still twitching. He had to beat them up into little bits of parts before they left off trying to attack him.
He wished he had Fragarach. A sword was much more efficient when it came to dismemberment. And he needed efficiency, because more shades kept coming, foaming over the edge of the bridge, an army of dead on the move. There was no time to finish them off, only to deprive them of their physical hosts.
They aimed for the children. It took all of Jonah’s strength and speed to intercept them.
“Don’t run!” he shouted desperately. “Don’t go near the edge. That’s what they want.”
Just as he said this, a little boy broke away and ran, screaming, from a corpse that reached bony arms toward him. Jonah just managed to block his way and herd him back to the center. Then he turned and smashed the corpse into five smaller pieces that still jumped and vibrated on the asphalt.
It was a remarkably silent battle, save for the hiss of Jonah’s staff, the whimpering of the children, and the clatter of bones. Like a deadly game of Whac-A-Mole.
“Jonah! Behind you!” Olivia. Again.
He just caught the flash of motion out of the corner of his eye in time. He flung himself forward as a razor- sharp blade hissed past his head, all but giving him a haircut. Then flipped backward as the ax blade came down again.
The shade pivoted and threw the ax straight at the children. There was no time for a pretty save. Jonah spun, swinging his staff, and batted the flying ax out of the air.
Well. Maybe it
In the time it took to realize that, three shades were nearly on top of him. He reacted, spinning, cutting them in half with one swing of his blade. The torsos and legs continued to twist and kick and try to get to him.
The ax was a blur of steel, and Jonah a blur of motion. But sooner or later, he was going to mess up. Sooner or later, a child was going to fall over the edge and end up in the river. “Hey! What’s this?” someone shouted from the base of the bridge. “Did Halloween come early or what?”
Looking down through the framework of the bridge, he saw that it was Alison, with her sword, Bloodfetcher, strapped on over the dress she’d worn to the club.
“Alison! A little help, here?” Jonah pivoted, ax in one hand, staff in the other. He slammed into three corpses at knee level. They toppled backward and disappeared over the edge.
A commotion erupted on the ground below as Alison drew Bloodfetcher and went to work. Jonah heard the crunch of bones and smelled the stench of burning flesh punctuated by occasional heartrending screams of free shades as she shivved them. Those were harder to bear than ever.
Finally, blessedly, the shades stopped coming and Jonah was able to free those already on the bridge, including Brendan. He didn’t have the energy or the heart to chase the free shades down. He picked his way through heaps of bones to the edge of the road deck and looked down.
Alison was charring the last of the creatures on the ground, jetting flame at them with two-handed sweeps of her sword. Burning corpses toppled into the river, hissing as they hit the water. The surface reflected back flame in a lurid orange. And everywhere, fleeing shades, swarming like fireflies along the riverbank.
Taking a wider view, Jonah saw that the police activity on the bluff had slopped over the hill and down into the Flats. The cops would have heard the bridge alarm and then seen the platform rising on the closed bridge.
“Good work!” Jonah called down. “Thanks!”
Alison looked up at him, sword in hand, her hair a bright spot in the darkness. “Sorry!” she said. “I wasn’t able to shiv very many of them. They were coming too fast. So now we’ll have a mess of free shades to deal with.”
“Can’t be helped,” Jonah said. “Better split. Company’s coming.” He pointed at the oncoming slurry of uniforms.
“What about you?”
“I’ll be down in a minute. I need to clear the rest of the bridge.”
Alison trotted back toward Superior as Jonah knelt on the bridge deck, looking for the bottle that Brendan had dropped. But there was something else, scattered over the ground. Plant material—shredded leaves, small purple and yellow flowers, red berries.
Nightshade.
He didn’t have time to sweep up. So Jonah stuffed some of the wilted plant into his pocket, then scooped up the bottle, tucking it into the waist of his jeans.
He turned back toward the children, who huddled together, shaking and crying. All except for Olivia, who had not budged from her assigned spot. He knew he should do something, calm them down somehow. But he wasn’t good with children. He always felt like he might contaminate them if he got too close.
“Is anybody hurt?” he asked.
They all started talking at once.
“Listen, I want each one of you to look at your neighbor. If your neighbor is bleeding, raise your hand.”
The crying dwindled into sniffles as they checked one another out. No hands went up.
“Great,” Jonah said, weak with relief.
“I want to go home,” a little boy wailed. “Soon,” Jonah said. “I need to go make sure there’s no monsters left on the bridge. While I’m gone, could you . . . could you all sit down and hold hands?” He pushed his hands down, and eight bottoms hit the deck with a thump. Eight pairs of eyes stared solemnly back at him.
“Let’s sing a song,” Olivia said, coming up beside him. “Great,” Jonah said. By now, he was ready to adopt Olivia and name her his heir. He dropped his staff, stowed his ax, and began to climb. The children’s voices rose from the platform below, Olivia’s louder than anyone else’s.
Not exactly soothing, Jonah thought, but . . . appropriate.
