The others begin to break free—a fist here, a hoof there. Their whispers tumble into a spine-chilling chorus: “It is time for the sacrifice, sacrifice, sacrifice…”
The room brightens till my eyes ache. Inside the lamps the flames expand. They press against the glass and lick the walls. With a great roar, the lamps explode, sending a shower of glass raining down on us. The girls awaken with screams. The n***d flames flicker angrily along the walls, making us seem like apparitions in a magic-lantern show. But what I see coming off the column is no illusion. The creatures are no longer imprisoned there. They take shape in the room, hissing and laughing.
“Our sacrifice…”
“Mrs. Nightwing!” two small girls scream as a satyr reaches for them, narrowly missing.
“Run! Run to me!” Nightwing shou
