"Oh, man...We need to get out of here before their feet burn everything up," Damien said. He was clutching me so tight it was a little hard for me to breathe, but I didn't want to say anything that might cause him to topple sideways.

I was just thinking that we really might light the sawdust on fire when I heard a huge commotion behind us that I knew must be Lenobia freeing the horses to bolt around the main grounds of the campus, as if they were utterly crazed by the stable fire. Persephone tossed her head and snorted. I felt her muscles bunch and had just enough time to squeeze hard with my thighs and yell back at Damien, "Hold on! Here we go!" And then the mare lunged out of the stables and into the raging night.

The three horses, side by side, galloped through the co y1[E rral and out the gate Lenobia had left open. They turned hard to the left, circled around behind the main school building, and sooner than I would have imagined possible, there was steam hissing and mist rising in waves around us as heated hoofs met the ice that covered the asphalt of the parking lot.

Behind us I could hear the screams of panicked horses and the terrible cries of the Raven Mockers. I gritted my teeth and hoped Lenobia's mares were taking out a bunch of the birdmen.

Persephone's hoofs hissed against the slick road that led down the drive to the school.

"Oh, Goddess! Look!" Damien cried. He pointed from over my shoulder ahead and off to the left in the line of trees that framed the lane. Dragon was there fighting three Raven Mockers. His blade was a silver blur as he lunged and parried and whirled. As we came into view, the birdmen tried to shift their attention to us, but Dragon redoubled his attack, skewering one of them instantly and causing the other two to turn, hissing, back to him.

"Go!" he cried as we galloped past him, "And may Nyx bless you!"

The gate was open, Dragon's doing I was sure. We surged through, turned to the right, and galloped down deserted, icy Utica Street.

At the Twenty-first Street light, which was not working, we turned the horses to the right, positioned them in the middle of the street, and gave them their heads.

Midtown Tulsa had turned into a frozen ghost of itself. If I hadn't been focused and hadn't been absolutely sure our horses were in a flat gallop down Twenty-first Street, I would have thought we were utterly lost in a strange, postapocalyptic ice world. There was nothing in the least bit familiar around me. No lights. No cars moving. No people. Cold and darkness and ice reigned. The beautiful old trees of midtown were shrouded in so much ice that many of them had literally splintered down the middle. Power lines were down, snaking across the street like lazy vipers. The horses paid no attention to them. They leaped over downed limbs and lines, their flame-heated hoofs slicing through the ice to strike sparks against the surprised pavement.

And then, above the din of striking hoofs and the hiss of flame on ice, I heard the terrible flapping of wings and the cry of first one and then another and another Raven Mocker.

"Darius," I yelled. "Raven Mockers!"

He looked behind us and up, and nodded grimly. Then he did something that completely shocked me. Out of his jacket pocket he pulled a black gun. I'd never seen any of the Sons of Erebus carry modern weapons, and it looked completely out of place in his hand. He said something to Aphrodite, who was pressed against his back. She slid to the side a little, allowing him to swivel around. He lifted his arm, sighted, and squeezed off half a dozen shots. The sound was deafening in the frozen night, but not half as eerie as what followed it--the screams of wounded Raven Mockers and the thud! crash! of bodies as they fell from the sky.

"There!" Shaunee cried, pointing in front of us and to the right. "I see flames!"

At first I didn't see anything, and then through a stand of ice-enslaved trees I caught sight of first one and then another and another candle-flickering welcoming light. Was that it? Was that the Benedictine Abbey? Visibility was terrible, and b bGYeverything was so disorienting and dark, that I couldn't tell if it was the abbey or just one of the houses-turned-plastic surgeon offices that lined this part of the street.

Concentrate! If it's a place of power, I should be able to feel it.

I breathed deep and reached out with my instinct, and I felt it--the unmistakable draw that came from the combined power of spirit and earth.

"That's it!" I yelled. "That's the abbey!"

We yanked our horses' heads to the right and plunged off the road, through a ditch, and then up an embankment dotted with trees. The horses had to slow to dodge around fallen limbs and dead, downed power lines, and then we popped through the trees and into a clearing. Directly in front of us was a huge old oak. Its lower branches were filled with little glass cages holding cheerily burning candles. There was a carport farther behind the tree, and beyond it I could just make out the looming hulk of the brick building that was the Benedictine Abbey, or at least I could make out its windows, because there were candles lit in each one of them.