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‘I’m following them,’ Mistry said, his gaze pinned to the Ranthen.

‘Jax,’ I said, ‘where’s Eliza?’

‘She is pursuing Fitzours,’ Jaxon said. ‘Her gift is not for battling Buzzers. Not like ours.’

‘But you sent her after a dreamwalker?’‘She’ll be fine. I left her with Jean.’ Jean the Skinner was ruthless. Eliza would still need to be careful, but she knew how to tail a target unnoticed. The Buzzers were rampaging across Rome. In Oxford, they had attacked in pairs or alone, but now they seemed to be hunting in packs. So far I had counted thirty, but I sensed more of their dreamscapes, like black holes in the æther. Their very presence nauseated me.

Mistry was avoiding other cars by the skin of his teeth. He sped after the Rephs, through the winding streets, every corner jolting me between Nick and Arcturus. Somewhere nearby, an explosion sounded. Mistry hit the brakes, and half a building crashed down in front of us, sending up a cloud of dust. The rubble blocked the street.

‘Draghetti must have got the message out,’ Mistry said hoarsely. ‘The city is fighting back.’

‘Good,’ I said.

Seeing our predicament, Pleione backtracked. Mistry reversed and drove after her, to a new street.

On this side of the Tiber, Mistry was proven right. Italian police and soldiers were blockading the main streets, slowing the Buzzers’ onslaught. A few had clearly got the message about the salt, and were pouring it liberally, setting up artillery in the circles. In the distance, I could see a large group of them drilling a Buzzer with machine guns.

‘There weren’t nearly this many in Oxford,’ I said.

‘When cold spots first open, the Emim will flock to the new gateway,’ Arcturus said. ‘Oxford stood for a long time. They continued to be drawn to it, but not in such great numbers.’

‘Fantastic. If we can—’

A crash deafened me before I could finish. A Buzzer had rammed one side of the car, almost rolling us over. Mistry slammed on the brakes again, but the force of the collision had sent the car spinning into a wall, shattering a window.

‘Fuck.’ I reached for the door. ‘Come on, let’s move!’

In unspoken agreement, we made a break for it. The Buzzer flung the empty car like it was nothing more than a toy, and it smashed down on top of a crowd of people. I blocked it out and followed the Rephs’ dreamscapes, leading the others.

There were soldiers on the rooftops, armed with rocket launchers and rifles. Sala had got word out quickly. A few voyants were twitching on the ground, overcome by the coagulation in the æther.

I recognised this district. The same place I had walked with Jaxon. He ran alongside me, circled by Sukie and Herne, a sheen on his brow. He had never done legwork in the den, and I doubted he was enjoying it now. I wasn’t faring much better.

Before Paris, I had been good at running. Now my chest was tight, my legs on fire. It took me far too long to realise it was fear, rather than a lack of training, that was making it so hard to breathe. I had expected to go to war against Scion, but not this soon.

Vatican City loomed ahead of us. It looked strange and unearthly in the mist, the sun a clear white circle above it. The Ranthen waited on the edge of the Piazza di San Pietro.

‘The song leads just ahead,’ Pleione told us. ‘What is this building?’

‘The Basilica di San Pietro.’ Mistry gripped his knees, panting. ‘The … bodies are in there?’

‘Apparently.’ I drew my revolver. ‘Sure you still want to help us, Mistry?’

He wiped his brow. ‘Yes.’

A stampede of tourists had scattered all over the square, fleeing four enormous Buzzers. One of them hurled a woman into the Maderno Fountain. Two people tried to save her, only to bedriven into the slosh of blood and frothing water, which stained the ground. A man in a striped uniform and old-fashioned armour went for the other Buzzer with a pole weapon I had never seen before, somewhere between axe and spear. He met the same fate.

Pleione headed into the square. Arcturus caught my elbow before I could follow, offering me another two vials. One was full of amaranth, while the other glowed with ectoplasm.

‘To strengthen your gift,’ he said.

‘Thank you.’

I slotted the amaranth into my jacket, then drank some of the ectoplasm, pressing my eyes shut as my gift sharpened. A sickening headache bloomed as I combed the æther for Cade, but he was off my radar. Either he was on alysoplasm, or he was out of range.

I could deal with him later. This was more important.

Pleione led us through the slaughter in the square. One of the Buzzers charged towards her, but Terebell stepped between them, severing its head with her blade. I sensed the trapped spirits escaping its dreamscape, fleeing in all directions, as its body crumpled to the ground.