The rain kept falling, cold needles on Johnquis's face as he moved toward the coffin. The wind bit into him, but his steady hook line and cape kept him balanced.
He pulled the hook free with a sharp pull and ran. Boots slammed across the creaking frame, rain sheeting off rusted steel. He leapt, caught a dangling sign, swung over a gap and landed hard on the shell of an old bus jammed into the building's side.
Below, the street boiled with movement. The Eaters were clawing at the coffin now, Heads snapped around like rats fighting over scraps. He could see the lid, buckling under claws and teeth, steam hissing from the last of the locks.
"Come on, come on… hold just a little longer—"
He muttered it to no one but the storm.
Dancer was already ahead. She dropped down the bus's cracked windshield, blades scraping sparks off the metal. She landed on the street in a crouch, her foot-blade spinning her sideways to dodge a lunging Eater. Her claws sank into its neck —
CRACK!
