“My word,” I said.

“Dunno,” Binder said. “Seeing as how you didn’t follow through on that promise to kill me if you saw me here again . . .”

I glowered.

“Sir Knight?” Binder asked. “Will you give your word?”

“You have it,” Michael said.

“Are you in or not?” I asked.

Binder regarded Michael for a moment, then nodded once. “’Course I’m in. What choice do I have?”

“Everyone else?”

There was a general murmur of agreement.

“Right, then, listen up,” I said, feeling the urge to go sprinting after Nicodemus in every fiber of my body. But I used my head. First things first. Get out of the death trap we were in—then save Maggie from hers. “Here’s the plan.”

Forty-nine

The plan didn’t take long to put into effect.

Binder’s goons poured out of all sides of the bank building in a howling horde, crashing through windows and sprinting through doorways. They ran straight into gunfire from two dozen patrol cars surrounding the place. Binder’s goons died hard, but die they did, after taking several rounds each. They leapt onto cars. They waved their arms threateningly. They brandished their empty Uzis with malicious intent.

But they didn’t actually hurt anybody. Binder’s share was forfeit if they had. And when they went down, they splattered back into the ectoplasm they’d been formed from in the first place—a clear, gelatinous goo that would rapidly evaporate, leaving nothing behind but empty Uzis and confusion.

Most of the goons went out the west side of the building. Our little crew went out several seconds behind them, covered in my best veil—which is to say, looking slightly blurrier and more translucent than we would have normally appeared.

Veils aren’t really my thing, all right? Especially not covering that many people all at once.

In that light, in that weather, in the howling confusion of an apparent assault by demons of corporate dress code, my paltry veil was enough. I took the lead, Michael brought up the rear, and we all held hands in a chain, like a group of schoolchildren traveling from one place to another. We had to—the veil would only have covered me, otherwise.

Outside the ring of police cars was a perimeter of other emergency vehicles—fire trucks and ambulances and the like, parked on whatever uneven slew they had managed on the ice. The press had begun to arrive, while an insufficient number of other cops tried to cordon off the block around the Capristi Building. Every single person there was straining to see through the fog, to get an idea of what was happening during the howling chaos of the attack and the subsequent hail of gunfire. I kept the veil around us as we hobbled through the confusion at Michael’s best pace. It didn’t stop people from noticing that someone was hurrying by,but at least it would prevent anyone from identifying us.

Michael’s bad leg lasted for another block and then he dropped out of the chain, gasping, to stumble to a halt and lean against a building.

Once his grip was broken, my veil faltered and fell apart, and the five of us flickered fully back into sight.

“Right,” I said. “You three keep moving, fast as you can, before Marcone’s people twig to what’s going on. Find a phone soonest.”

“We should split up as quick as may be,” Binder said. He looked pale and shaken. He’d been born in an age before the invention of cardio, and he’d been summoning demons all night.

Valmont added a firm, silent nod to Binder’s opinion.

“When you’re doing crime, listen to the crime pros,” I said. “Take your share and give Michael what’s left.”

“God go with you, Harry,” Michael said.

“Grey,” I said, “with me.”

And I turned, called upon Winter, and started running.

It took several seconds for Grey to catch up with me, but he did so easily enough. Then he let out an impatient sound and said, “Try not to clench up.”

“What?” I blurted.

“Parkour,” he said impatiently. And he caught me by the waist and flung me into the air.

I went up, flailing my arms and legs and looked down to see something that was basically impossible.

Grey smoothly dropped to all fours, blurred, and suddenly there was a large, long-legged grey horse running beneath me, and I came down on his back. I managed to angle it to minimize the, ah, critical impact zone, catching most of my weight on my thighs, but doing so nearly sent me tumbling off, and I had to flail pretty wildly to hang on.

I did it, though, and set myself. I hadn’t ridden a horse since my days on Ebenezar’s farm down in the Ozarks, but I’d done it every day down there, and the muscle memory was still in place. Riding a running horse bareback isn’t easy when you’re feeling a little croggled from seeing someone completely ignore the laws of physics and magic as you know them.

Shapeshifting I could deal with, but Grey had done something more significant than that—he’d altered his freaking mass. Rearranging a body with magic, sure, I basically knew how that worked. You just moved things around, but the mass always remained the same. Granted, I’d seen Ursiel shift into his bear form and add oodles of mass, so I knew it could be done somehow, but I’d figured that was maybe a Fallen angel thing. Though that didn’t make sense, either. I’d seen Listens-to-Wind reduce his mass pretty significantly in a shapeshifting war with a naagloshii, but I’d figured he had managed to make some materials denser and heavier, crowding the same mass into a smaller area.