“Kate!” Simon shouted, his hands bloody from digging through the razor-sharp dirt.
Her eyes were wide with shock and her limbs trembled as she reached for him. Simon lifted her carefully out of the debris, holding her tight, checking her for serious injury. Kate shoved his hands away, her head turned to her sister. Dark dust coated Imogen’s fair skin. Charlotte settled Imogen’s form into the dirt and crouched over her as Kate reached out. Imogen’s white skin was slathered with blood. She had numerous gashes on her face and chest. One pale arm was crooked and her head was turned farther past her shoulder than it should have been.
“Oh God, please. Oh God!” Kate shouted, her voice hoarse against the drifting ash and raw emotion. She put a hand on her sister’s arm. She felt a terrible lack of response although she tried to ignore it. Imogen’s muscles were slack. There was no resistance. Kate touched Imogen’s dust-caked cheek and the girl’s head jostled lifelessly. Kate gasped and her trembling worsened.
Charlotte’s massive head turned and her yellow eyes grew round and frightened. “Miss Kate?”
Kate sensed the fear and aching need coming from Charlotte so she reached out and took the beast’s clawed hand. There was nothing she could say to the monstrous face before her that looked for all the world like a scared little girl.
Malcolm fell to his knees next to Imogen and put his gentle hands on her face. He inspected her carefully, checking her eyes and sliding a finger along her neck, seeking a pulse. After a second, his head dropped and he let his hand caress the poor girl’s arm. His great frame shook silently.
Kate watched Simon desperately for the barest hint of hope that he might tell her something other than what she knew.
He couldn’t manage to raise his voice above a despairing whisper. “I’m sorry, Kate. I’m so sorry.”
“Nick!” Kate cried, her chest tight with rising dread. “Help her! Do something!”
Nick appeared stunned by the sight. He shook his head in horror, looking at Simon as if in apology. “I can’t help her. I don’t have that power anymore.”
Kate slid away from Charlotte. Frantic, she wiped away the blood on Imogen’s face, but it was everywhere. There was no response to her ministrations, not a moan or even eye movement beneath her blood-crusted lids. She pushed her face against her sister’s cool skin. All she could do was whisper in Imogen’s ear, “No no no no no.”
She barely felt Simon’s steadying hand upon her back. A strange peacefulness descended on London, but Kate noticed none of it. Her world had shattered.
Chapter 24
Sounds of grief pierced the night. Smoke billowed from fires that burned in the city all around them. Kate’s sobs filled the still air, cutting deep into Simon’s heart as he stared down at the pale figure in the black dirt. Charlotte hunched near him with her mouth frozen open. Malcolm drew the werewolf against him silently. Her long arms wrapped around his waist and she buried her head inside his coat. Penny had her hands on her head, disbelieving. Jane seemed disturbed to be witnessing such grief, but unable to offer comfort. Even the stoic Hogarth’s granite face cracked, his guilt over the loss of his charge all too evident.
Behind them a great column of basalt still stood in the center of the raised platform, presumably with Gaios encased inside. Simon stared hard at the figure. All this anguish because of one man’s vendetta over an old crime. The waste. The ruin of it all. So pointless.
Above them, the world darkened suddenly and the ground offered a distant rumble. From the center of the demolished temple, the thick black pillar began to move. Liquid bubbled on its surface and the black turned red and transformed into a large blob of slithering lava. It rolled and glistened for a moment before it collapsed as if popped with a needle. It revealed a figure standing on the jagged ruins of the marble temple floor amidst receding magma. He was black and shining bright. He appeared to be made of flat slabs of obsidian. Then the black glass folded away from the figure’s head.
Gaios took a deep breath like a diver emerging from the sea. His eyes focused on his surroundings and he scowled. The obsidian instantly reshaped itself from simple protective planks into a beautiful armor reminiscent of a Roman praetor. He wore a carved black cuirass and a skirt of stone strips protecting his thighs. His arms were sheathed in bracers and his lower legs were covered by greaves, all likewise made of obsidian.