The first filament of power slid through the fake sky like silk through a ring. It stopped a hand's width above the roof, pausing as if it were deciding whether we were worth its time. The air, which had just begun to taste of clean metal and rain, was suddenly thick with the scent of perfume and knives.
"Hold center," Lucifer said, his voice losing its easy tone. His twin crowns, one of pure white, one of absolute black, began to glow just enough to make the ceiling behave. He traced two small, sharp sunbrands along the main brass seam of the roof. The structure remembered its job was to stay up.
"I am," I said, planting my feet.
