The streets were packed with people smashing widows and looting stores. Fortunately no one seemed to notice or care about Daphna’s arrival on the scene. She turned momentarily back to the wellness center. Mr. Brown was evidently not pursuing her, which was a relief. She hoped that was a good sign for Quinn and that no one out here would venture back to that little room.
It was hotter than Daphna thought possible. The cracks in the sky were spreading, emanating crimson waves in all directions. A digital sign on a bank across the street said it was 112 degrees.
Daphna took a deep breath in through her nose and drew it down her throat, then set off running toward the museum, taking care to avoid the looters, who remained focused on looting. No one paid her any mind.
Just a few seconds later, she was there, standing at the museum’s front doors. All was quiet.
All was locked, as well.
Daphna looked around for an idea, but nothing presented itself. Then she looked up, and the moment she did, black-robed figures, a dozen or so, leapt off the roof. They flew toward the street for a few dizzy, surreal moments, but then swung back, attached to cords she hadn’t noticed, and crashed through the windows running along the upper floor.
A slamming door made Daphna spin round to the street. A half dozen more figures in black were leaping out of one of those stretch-limo SUV’s. It was bright white. They ran up the steps right past her with a metal battering ram, which they used to crash through the museum’s front doors. Were they wearing swords?
The whole thing lasted only a few seconds. Daphna looked back at the SUV, trying to understand how it all could have happened so quickly.
Her heart siezed.
The man in the passenger seat was looking right at her with sad eyes. That curtain of white hair encircling his bald head was unmistakable: It was the Secret Keeper of the Church.
Daphna turned and rushed into the museum.