“I told this filthy beast to stop,” Diana said, barely controlled.
“Stop what?” Caine demanded.
“They’re still attacking the kids,” Diana said. “We’ve won. Sam is dead. Call them off, Caine.”
Caine turned his attention back to the battle between Drake and the monster. “They’re coyotes,” Caine said coldly.
Diana flew at him. “You’ve lost your mind, Caine. This has to stop. You’ve won. This has to stop.”
“Or what, Diana? Or what?” Caine demanded. “Go get Lana. I’m hurt. Pack Leader, do what you want.”
“Maybe this is why your mother abandoned you,” Diana said savagely. “Maybe she could see that you weren’t just bad, you were twisted and sick and evil.”
Caine reacted with sudden violence, forgetting his powers and slapping her hard across the face.
Diana tripped backward from the blow and sat down hard on the stone steps.
Caine could see her face with sudden, terrible clarity by the glow of a brilliant column of blinding, green-white light.
That light could have only one source.
The light was like a spear aimed at the sky. It arced upward from the midst of the rubble of the apartment building.
“No,” Caine said.
But the light burned, burned away rubble and debris, all the crushing weight of the collapsed apartment building.
“No,” Caine said, and the light died, snapped off.
Behind him, Drake and Orc carried on their quick-and-slow, nimble-and-heavy, sharp-and-dull battle, but all Caine could see was the blackened, soot-covered, bright-eyed figure who now walked toward him from the rubble.
Caine aimed his hands at the shattered wood and plaster of the church front. He threw his hands toward Sam and a truckload of debris went flying.
Sam raised his hands. Green fire exploded chunks of brick and heavy wooden beams. They burned in midair, turning to cinders before they could hit him.
Dekka raised the debris off Astrid and Little Pete.
But it was no easy thing. Her ability to suspend gravity suspended it under Astrid as well, and she and Little Pete floated up in a spinning galaxy of broken lumber and plaster.
Dekka darted a hand in and yanked Astrid out of the suspension zone. Astrid hit the floor along with Little Pete.
Dekka released her hold on the debris and it slammed down, scarily loud.
“Thanks,” Astrid said.
“There’s a lot of other people trapped in here,” Dekka said, wasting no time in moving off to help others.
Astrid bent down and tried to lift Little Pete. He was limp, just dead weight. She got her arms around his chest and hugged him close like a too-large baby. She hugged him to her and staggered awkwardly from the church, half dragging him, stumbling across rubble.
Lana could heal him, but Lana was gone. All she could think of was to get him to Dahra down in the basement. But what could Dahra do? Was it even possible to reach the so-called hospital, or had the entrance been blocked by falling debris?
For the first time she realized that the front wall of the church was simply gone. She could see night sky and stars. But she could also see a terrible green-tinged lightning.
Her hearing was returning as the ringing subsided. She could make out animal growls and the sharp crack of a whip and too many voices crying.
Suddenly the debris piled around her began to fly.
Astrid dropped to the ground, shielding Little Pete again, still, always protecting Little Pete. Chunks of wall and shards of wood paneling and odd steel-and-wood joints rose like jets taking off from an airport and accelerated crazily, flying in a stream out through the broken church front.