Malcolm strode up the aisle, stepping over the crumpled mummy, reloading his pistols as he went. He raised his guns at Albion. Before anyone could speak, the Lancasters roared again.
Bullets flew in impossible directions, everywhere except at the shimmering specter. Plaster chipped near Simon’s head. Wooden splinters flew from a shattered pew. He ducked, releasing Ash. He and Kate dropped to the floor. Hogarth went prone, covering Charlotte. Penny dove for cover near the door.
Malcolm stood in the aisle, staring at his pistols in surprise.
“Malcolm,” Simon shouted. “Stop shooting at gods and come over here.”
The Scotsman backed away from the unmoving Albion, his disloyal weapons still aimed. The radiant figure paid him no mind. He joined Simon and glared at Ash, who stood with chest cut open and heart exposed.
“Barnes looks terrible.” Malcolm reloaded his pistols.
“Long story.” Simon brushed plaster and wood from Kate’s hair and turned to Malcolm. “Glad to see you and Penny are all right.”
“Who’s that then?” Malcolm jerked a thumb toward the immobile god.
“That’s Albion.”
The Scotsman huffed in dismay. “Good thing Blake is dead or we’d never hear the end of this.”
Strange tendrils rose out of the center aisle. Strips of linen quivered in the air, touching the pews and grasping the edges of the high gallery overhead. The mummified Nephthys rose off the floor into the air, suspended by her wrappings, which twisted and reached like incredible appendages. The hieroglyphs sparked furiously. She turned toward the small group, expressionless, but full of intent nonetheless.
Simon whispered and dropped to his knee, slamming his hands flat against the floor. A shock wave rolled out from him, cracking pews and sending them erupting into the air. Nephthys took the brunt of the savage attack and the linen surrounding her flew away from her body briefly, revealing the blue skin beneath. The linen quickly swirled back into place.
Malcolm’s fingers tightened on the triggers. “Right. Her, at least, I can hit.”
A flashing strip of linen reached for the Scotsman in an arc of jade light. The cloth wrapped his hand and squeezed. Malcolm roared in pain as fingers were crushed against his weapon.
Simon leapt for him, grasping the linen. Several tendrils swarmed him at the same time. Suddenly, beyond his control, all of his tattoos flared at once and aether roared from Simon’s body in an explosion so great it was visible to all. The room swam around him and glowed green, then red. He could barely draw a breath. The ever-brighter linen strips withdrew, leaving Malcolm clutching his hand, but he forgot it when he saw Simon collapse to the floor in a silent scream.
Kate was first to the stricken magician, taking him by the shoulders. “Simon! Simon! Say something.”
Simon’s eyes lowered from where they had been rolled up in his head. “My God. Such power.”
Kate searched him for injuries. She gasped. “Simon, your tattoos.”
“What of them?”
“They’re gone.”
Simon looked down where his shirt was torn over his chest. Indeed, the dark greenish runes that had once covered his torso had disappeared. And he could feel no magic around him. He tossed his head back and forth, staring around like a man suddenly struck blind. He saw no aether. Panic surged at the thought of the horrible mystic cataclysm that must have occurred to rip all the aether from the air. But then, with a terrible, seeping, cold realization, he knew that the aether was not gone. He simply couldn’t see it. Simon was cut adrift from the world he had known. He felt a deep ache. He was alone in a way he never had experienced before. He felt mortal. Simon closed his eyes to shut out the world.
Malcolm leapt to his feet and cracked his heavy pistol across Ash’s face. The corpse’s head spun with a sharp crack, and the body collapsed to the floor.
Ash lay quivering on the tiles, with her head turned sideways. The cadaver brought arms up slowly and adjusted the head with grinding sounds of bone. The voice was slurred. “What did that gain you?”
“Not for me.” Malcolm turned and went toward the front to check on Charlotte. Penny followed him, regarding the dark hunter gratefully.
Simon opened his eyes again, fighting the hopelessness. He felt Kate’s hands on him and concentrated on that. He had to keep working; too many people depended on him. Then a rush of blunt heat pounded into him. Everyone was shoved back by the wave of energy from the two gods facing one another.
Albion seemed to have grown to incredible size. The god was strong and beautiful, with the crystalline music of spheres coming from its every motion. The light of heaven bathed it.