Her eyes blazed an intense, bright white, and she roared and threw herself into the fight, a fight she couldn’t possibly win, and he knew he was killing her as well. He felt like a monster.
Thomas pulled him through the doorway, and he lost sight of Frauke just as her jaws closed around the paw of the other lion and yanked; metal ripped, cables shredded, gears scattered. Dark fluids spilled like blood. She’s winning, he thought, but in the next instant, another Library lion, red eyes glowing hellishly bright, landed on Frauke’s back and dug claws in.
The embattled first lion closed its jaws over Frauke’s throat.
Jess looked away, but he couldn’t help but hear the heavy crunch of the bite or the hissing spray of liquids, or the high-pitched metallic shriek that couldn’t have been one of pain, but that was how it sounded to him, like pain, as Frauke died.
Then he was across the threshold and couldn’t see anymore. He heard screaming and panic, and realized that the Serapeum was full of innocent people and more lions were coming.
Wolfe rushed for a control lever by the door and pulled it. The doors began to crank shut, and almost closed before a lion got a paw between them. Metal shrieked and bent. The doors didn’t quite close. They shuddered as a lion’s body hit, and then another.
“Stay out of the way!” Santi shouted to the bystanders. “Get against the walls! Don’t get in the way when they come in. You’re in no danger if you stay out of the way!”
The civilians were already following that wise advice, cowering in corners or near bookcases. The sound of the lions battering at the door, clawing, screaming echoed from the marble walls and floors as Wolfe took the lead, running across the broad, open central hall toward the far end of the Serapeum. The building passed in a blur for Jess, who finally was feeling his body again—not that it was a blessing—and got his feet working to move under his own power. Nothing was broken, at least, though he’d be aching badly tomorrow. He had an impression of a vast, columned hall lined with row upon row of shelves—a whole section of precious originals sealed under glass, available only to authorized Scholars, but open shelves lined with prefilled Blanks, or ones ready to be filled. Podiums held giant, permanently affixed Codex volumes. Roman statues graced alcoves, and for a bad moment he imagined those marble maidens and lads stepping down to grab them, but they were just statues, after all.
Wolfe made it to the door, but it was fixed with a heavy lock. Jess pushed forward and fumbled for his tools; his head wasn’t clear, and it seemed to take forever for his fingertips to begin to sense the vibrations of the metal pins.
Somehow, despite the tension, the others managed not to yell at him, and he was grateful for the concentration. At last he felt the lock snap under his fingers and the door sag open. He moved through and held it open for the others, and at the far end of the Serapeum, one of the double doors shrieked and fell and a Roman lion bounded through and skidded on the marble floor, roaring.
“Go!” Jess shouted, though they hardly needed encouragement. Santi came through first, ready to shoot any opposition, but the hall was empty for the moment. Glain stepped through last, still facing back toward the Serapeum’s hallway as the lions crowded in. Jess slammed the door shut and locked it as the first of the pride fixed a red gaze in their direction.
Then they were running through the empty halls of the basilica. Jess managed to keep up without help, though he felt Morgan next to him, anxiously steadying him when he faltered. “I’m fine,” he told her, and she sent him a breathless, disbelieving look. “You were right about the lion. I’m sorry I couldn’t—”
“It wasn’t your fault,” she said, and her hand slipped into his. The warm touch of her hand pushed back the pain a little. “Come on, Jess. Just a little farther.”
Santi led them through a maze of corridors, avoiding High Garda patrols responding to the summons from the Serapeum, and Jess recognized where they were now: the hallways close to where he and Glain, a lifetime ago, had begun their patrol. “It’ll be guarded,” he told Glain, and she nodded. “Don’t hesitate to shoot, no matter who it is.”
“I won’t,” she said, and moved up to run with Santi. They rounded a last corner, and there, halfway down the long hall, lay the statue of Pluto with the hidden entrance behind him, and a group of five soldiers in front.