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Loren watched the ripples of color on the spectrum shimmering above the urban sprawl of Angelthene. It was so powerful it tinted the Blood Moon, the vibrant shades diluting the orb’s red glow like spilled ink. The sandy beaches dotting the coast of Angelthene sparkled like gemstones. Several miles of ocean glowed, as if the water had transformed into neon paint.

Red. Orange. Yellow. Green. Blue. Violet. There was red-orange, yellow-orange, yellow-green, blue-green, blue-violet, red-violet. There was magenta and there was hazel; dark brown and cream. So many shades, all of them threading together with bright white bands.

It was beautiful.

With this forcefield of her own making now keeping any new creatures from entering the city, the Fleet soldiers might have the chance to gain the upper hand. But Darien—

An explosion came from down below. From the grid of tunnels below the city, where the others were stationed.

Loren peered over her shoulder to look toward the sound.

Although the pavement had not erupted, the buildings in the vicinity trembled from the stifled force of the blast.

Someone had shielded the city with their magic, keeping the street from caving in.

Loren had a pretty good idea who had shielded it.

That was when she saw Max and the others approaching in the distance. Dallas, Dominic, and Emilie were flying several miles ahead of the rest of the group, heading straight for the entrance to the tunnels farther south.

They had made it.

—

They were nearly there.

Max could see the Control Tower from way over here. The structure was dark and silent, no magic coursing through it, the sky devoid of the forcefield that usually tinted the nightly canvas of outer space with green.

As he ran, he and the others cut down any demon in their path. With bullets and magic, they felled them, sometimes entire packs at a time, the four of them working as a single, unstoppable unit.

Blue’s water magic choked up demon lungs; Sabrine’s razor-sharp teeth ripped out throats and hearts that pulsed with black blood; Cyra fired shots from a pistol, the crack of her bullets mingling with the ones from Max’s own gun. Together, they must’ve defeated hundreds, but it wasn’t enough. There were still too many, and until the Blood Moon set, these demons were trapped in a killing frenzy, unable to break free.

The Fleet soldiers were as remarkable at fighting as they were flying. They twirled through the streets of Angelthene like shooting stars, mighty wings kicking up gusts of wind, blades and crossbows and other weapons glimmering. Max had never seen them fight before, but damn was it a sight to behold, the kind he found himself marveling at, even in the midst of this destruction. This chaos.

Max scanned the roads up ahead, searching for the entrance to the tunnels that would lead them to Darien. As he ran, a demon charged out of the dark alley to his left.

He intercepted its attack, pivoting to block the thing from taking a chunk out of Cyra’s arm, and drove a blade through its skull.

It fell with a gurgle. By the time its body hit the ground, their group was already a dozen feet away.

“Thanks,” Cyra panted, pushing herself to keep up with the group.

“Don’t mention it.”

Another demon charged at them from behind, red eyes glowing like rubies struck by sunlight.

Max unsheathed a blade from where it was strapped to his hip. He twisted around and threw it mid-run.

The blade hit home between the creature’s eyebrows, the force behind the blow causing it to tumble head over feet.

By the time Max turned back around, an outpouring of rainbow light was drenching the whole city.

Max’s focus went to the Control Tower. He kept running, boots slapping asphalt, his footfall mixing with Cyra’s, Blue’s, and the scratching of Sabrine’s claws.

Where she was flying several blocks ahead, Dallas shouted, “The forcefield!” She pointed. “Look!”

The Control Tower was glowing every color imaginable. The finial was brighter than the sun, the tip of it projecting a forcefield of rippling colors out over the city.

And standing on the first ledge, about a hundred and fifty feet up, was Loren. Erasmus was at her side, and clutching her ankle like a piece of shadowy jewelry was Mortifer, whose tiny red eyes found Max’s from all the way over here.