“Is that because she can’t, or won’t?”
“The latter. The energy structure beneath the ice is unstable. If undone incorrectly, it could destroy the structural integrity of the building, causing a catastrophic chain reaction within the interior of the edifice.”
“That definitely falls into the damage category. Which means an angrier Olga. Any way could we prevent that? I like living here.”
“As do I. I’m trying to ascertain the extent of the current damage without causing a collapse—not as easy as it appears.”
“Can’t you throw up some ‘runes of building support or structural reinforcement’ to prevent the collapse?”
“Battlemagic has a tendency to lean more toward the destructive, not constructive, side of the spectrum. This is similar to unraveling a tangled web. The wrong cast from the outside can set off the ice and topple—”
“The building, which is currently full of people,” I finished, looking at the ice.
“A building which cannot be presently evacuated.”
“Why can’t we get them out? I’ll call Ramirez, and we can evac—”
The sound of ice cracking shot through the night. I saw more blue ice had formed and crept up the side of the building.
“Bringing the NYTF here will only put them in danger,” Monty answered, gesturing. A group of white runes floated into the ice and disappeared. “We don’t have that kind of time.”
“Well, unless you have some kind of industrial blowtorch or an instant melt rune, this is going to get worse.”
I looked at the ice slowly rising up the side of the building.
“We need to get inside and address this at the source,” Monty said, following my gaze upward. “The sooner, the better.”
“We can just teleport—”
Monty shook his head.
“Too dangerous. My teleportation circle could create runic backlash. We need to be subtle about how we enter the space.”
“What about Peaches?” I asked, pointing at my hellhound.
“I said subtle,” Monty said, glancing at Peaches. “Your creature is about as subtle as a battering ram.”
“True, but he can step in-between without a circle. Is that subtle enough to not set off the ice?”
Monty looked at Peaches, who gave him a low rumble in response.
“It could work,” Monty said after a pause. “Planewalking is similar to teleportation. He’d have to be able to bring me with him; that way, I can assess the extent of the damage and cast a reversal before the entire structure is buried under ice.”
“Will you be able to stop her?” I asked, looking at all the ice around us. “Cece is just a little girl, but she’s pretty strong.”
“We don’t have much of a choice,” Monty said, stepping back from the ice. “If we don’t stop her, the building is in danger, and so are we.”
“From the falling debris?”
“From an angry Olga.”
“Good point,” I said, glancing back at the still-glaring Olga. “I think I’d prefer the falling building than dealing with her.”
“Wise choice. See if your creature can pinpoint Cecelia’s location. If he can, he needs to take me—”
“Us,” I interrupted. “Take us.”
Monty raised an eyebrow.
“Is he able to take both of us?” Monty asked. “That may strain his abilities.”
“We’ll find out, but I’m not staying out here with the angry ice queen.”
“Ask him now. We’re running out of time.”
FOUR
<Hey, boy, can you smell where Cece—the cold girl is?>
<Yes, but she smells different.>
<Different how?>
<She smells…more.>
<That’s not very helpful. Do you think you can take us to her?>
<You are my bondmate. I can take you anywhere. The angry man will have to hold on if we go in-between.>
I was about to inform Monty of our hellhound travel arrangements, when I heard the screech of tires behind us. I turned to see a 1966 orange VW Type-2 bus slide into the large ice sheet surrounding The Moscow, then slam into the Dark Goat with a crash. The grating sound of metal on metal filled the street as the bus slid off the Dark Goat.
The driver tried unsuccessfully to correct the slide. He overcompensated, turning the wheel in the opposite direction, causing the bus to fishtail and hit the Dark Goat again, before gaining some measure of control. A few seconds later, he skidded to a stop on the ice.
I drew Grim Whisper.
“What are you doing?” Monty asked.
“Shooting the driver who just slammed into the Dark Goat. That’s what I’m doing.”
“Put that away,” Monty hissed. “We both know the car suffered no damage.”
“Won’t be able to say the same thing for the driver. Besides, I’m carrying persuaders. It will only be excruciating, not lethal.”
Two men stepped out of the VW bus and approached The Moscow.
“We have more pressing concerns to attend to,” Monty said. “Shooting bystanders will only complicate matters further.”
“It’s the principle of the thing. No one slams into the Dark Goat. Where the hell did he learn how to drive?”
“Probably not New York,” Monty said, turning back to the building. “We have a frozen building to deal with. Let it go.”
“Oi,” the taller of the two men said, pointing over his shoulder with a thumb when they were closer. “Is that your vehicle back there?”
“You mean the vehicle you slammed into with your pumpkinmobile—twice?”
“Yes. Where did you learn to park? Your beast of a vehicle is blocking the road. We’re holding you liable for any damage to our bus.”
“You’re holding us liable?” I asked as I turned my head slowly to Monty, giving him the can I shoot them now? look. Monty shook his head. “Liable for what? You hit my car.”
“This is official business,” Tall and Bald said. I recognized the accent as from Monty’s part of the world. “You are actively hindering an investigation.”
I unleashed a glare that easily hit a four on the Eastwood glare-o-meter.
“Excuse me?” I asked, completely confused. “Who are you?”
“Robert Bangers,” Tall and Bald said, and pointed to the shorter man next to him, “and my associate, Steven Mash. Bangers and Mash—Paranormal Investigators of the Arcane.””
“Who did you say you were again?” I asked as Monty took a breath, probably counting to one hundred to keep from unleashing
