The scene was horrific. The intersection of 55th Street and 7th Avenue looked like a war zone. Mangled cars were everywhere. The M5 Express bus was turned on its side, buried into the lobby of a nearby hotel. The injured were wandering through the street, filthy and bloodied, dazed and confused. Small fires were popping up on overturned vehicles even as the blare of a nearby fire company's engines could be heard just a few blocks away.

Ryan turned to Esposito to coordinate their strategy. "Those firemen are going to be stuck until enough traffic gets diverted. I'll help people get out of their cars, you help evacuate the bus?"

"Absolutely," replied Esposito, resolutely determined to help any way he could. Ryan took off toward the nearest car, Esposito only being briefly stopped by the ghostly Bengal tiger blocking his path. My Lord, how may I serve?

Help the rescuers, Esposito projected back to the cat, save as many as you can.

As you wish, my Lord.

The tiger spirit exploded into a collection of floating orange balls, spreading out to collide with anyone who was even thinking about touching one of the wrecked cars. Doors started to fly open, crashing to the ground with a power that crunched metal even further and made it nearly impossible for anyone to verbally communicate with each other.

Some people, though, didn't need to talk to communicate. How's it going? Ryan projected through the mind-link. Any luck finding Alex?

Not yet, replied Esposito. Been trying to get anybody with two good legs off this bus...

How's that going?

Most of the mobile are off now, replied Esposito. Going to clear out the most severely injured next. You?

Ryan scanned the intersection, watching as orange-eyed heroes pulled person after person out of their cars, putting out fires where they could and helping the injured to places where they could wait safely for medical attention. I don't see her...

I do, Esposito cut off his partner, his mind-voice resonating with grave disappointment. I just found them. They got run over by the bus.

Ryan didn't like the emotions his partner was pouring down the link. They?

Alex *and* Bryce, replied Esposito. They're both dead.

Ryan sent a furious string of curses down the mind-link. All of *this* just to kill two people? I'm getting a little tired of this witch and her damn bird...

I hear that, Esposito chimed in sadly.

"Thanks," Beckett spoke grimly and quietly into the phone. "We'll see you guys back at the precinct."

Castle took one look at his partner's face and did not like her expression. "Beckett?" he asked, "What's happened?"

Beckett turned to the three people who were watching her with concern and focused on the two people who were going to be most devastated by the news she had to deliver. "There was a massive auto accident at 55th and 7th. Alex and Bryce were among the dozen or so people killed at the scene. I'm so sorry, Stephanie."

Jake helped Stephanie to sit down at her dining table and fight to recover some level of ability to function after the shock of the news. Stephanie quickly lost the battle, though, and collapsed into Jake's arms, overwhelmed with shock and grief.

Beckett and Castle pulled up chairs next to Stephanie, waiting patiently for the woman to get to the point where she could talk again. The shrill ring of a cell phone, though, caught everyone by surprise. Beckett and Castle locked eyes in silent communication. Yours? asked Beckett. Castle shook his head.

Jake moved the arm he had been holding around Stephanie when he recognized that the vibration and ring were from the cell phone belonging to him. Stephanie straightened up enough to be able to sit up on her own while Jake took his phone call. Beckett stretched her hearing just enough to hear both ends of the conversation...

"Mr. Bradford?"
"Yes?"
"This is Mr. Vanderkellen's office." Beckett noticed that the voice on the other end of the line was flat and devoid of all inflection. "Dress rehearsal will be tomorrow at 3pm. Will you be able to come in by 11am?"
"Sure," replied Jake, confused.
"Excellent. See you then."

Jake hung up the phone and announced his news to the group. "That was the opera house. They want to have dress rehearsal tomorrow."

Stephanie was in disbelief. "Now?" she exclaimed angrily. "After losing so many people they *still* want to go on with the show?!"

Jake shrugged in response. "It's opera, you know that, Steph. To them, we're just props on the stage."

Beckett noticed Jake's nonchalance and used it to her advantage. "Jake? What is it?"

"It's just..." Jake replied, clearly hesitant to speak up about his gut reaction, "it's just that they guy on the other end of the line sounded really weird. Like he wasn't..."

"Human?" Beckett filled in Jake's thoughts with her own observations. Jake nodded in agreement.

"We know that Stephanie is the sirin's primary target," declared Castle.

Beckett recognized the tone in her partner's voice. "Yeah..."

"So let's *use* that."

Beckett didn't need a mind-link to tell what her partner was thinking. "You want to use Stephanie as bait."

"We sit with her in the audience," agreed Castle. "I can protect her from anything the sirin can throw at me, and when Olga sees that she's not going to get through to Stephanie while I'm around..."

"She'll come after us."

Stephanie was surprised by the confident smile on Beckett's face. "That's a *good* thing?"

The smile that crossed Castle's matched the smile on the face of his girlfriend. "Absolutely."

Douglas Vanderkellen looked up at the expansive space between the opera house's floor to ceiling windows and the balconies where people were scheduled to arrive in just two short hours. He was starting to curse the day he ever accepted the job as general manager..."Let me get this straight, detectives. You know who's been killing my people?"

"Yes, sir, we do," replied Beckett.

"And you believe that they will make an attempt to kill Ms. Frederickson here during today's dress rehearsal?" Beckett nodded. "Then why shouldn't I just fire her now and move on with my show?"

"Because our killer will go after Jake Bradford to get to Stephanie," Ryan told him. "And since said killer likes to make a scene, then not only would Mr. Bradford end up dying very publicly on your stage...taking out any chance of continuing with your current production...but she could end up taking out several members of your audience along with him. Now, correct me if I'm wrong, but isn't the orchestra level of dress rehearsals made up mostly of the friends and family of your major donors?"

Vanderkellen shifted his weight nervously between his feet. "And what's to say that that 'scene' wouldn't happen anyway?"

"Our plan includes protection for Ms. Frederickson, Mr. Bradford *and* your audience, sir," replied Beckett.

"*Discrete* protection, Detective Beckett? Those people in my orchestra level won't take too kindly to attending an opera under the watchful eye of an openly armed security force, of that much, I am quite sure..."

Castle couldn't help but notice how Vanderkellen's assistant seemed to be intently interested in the response to his boss' question. Keeping one eye on the assistant's reactions, Castle told the manager, "I can assure you, Mr. Vanderkellen, your audience will notice nothing out of the ordinary unless something goes wrong."

"God forbid." Vanderkellen sighed loudly, resigned to going along with whatever harebrained scheme the police officers in front of him had cooked up. "So what do you need from me, detectives?"

"Five seats in the front row of the Orchestra section," replied Beckett. "We'll take care of the rest."

Castle turned around, taking in the view of the house and the curtained stage from their seats. "One thing's for sure," the wizard grumbled, "no way are these the best seats in the house..."

"Focus, Castle," Beckett warned her boyfriend, "we're not here to watch the opera."

Castle nodded, accepting his team's lack of desire to keep things light-hearted. He refreshed the protection spell on both Stephanie and Jacob, then raised energy shields on the rest of the group.

"The show's going to start in a few minutes," said Ryan, "anything can happen after that. Stay alert."

"You really think she's going to wait to attack until after the opera starts?" asked Stephanie.

Esposito's expression darkened as his mind called up the memory of finding Alex Korotkin and Bryce Parrish, their bodies crudely severed at the waist by the bus that ran over them. "She wants to make a big production out of this, if her track record is any indication. Which means she wants an audience."

"And the largest audience you can get in the world of opera is right here," added Ryan. Stephanie nodded, trusting that her four-person team of bodyguards knew what they were doing.

Castle watched the chandeliers rise up to the ceiling as the audience took their seats and the lights dimmed. A quiet sobbing caught his attention as the overture began. He looked over to see Stephanie wiping tears from her eyes. "I'm sorry," she whispered, "it's just that..."

"Shhhh..." Castle squeezed Stephanie's hand in a gesture he hoped the young woman would find reassuring as she grieved for her lost friends. "I understand." Stephanie smiled and squeezed Castle's hand in return as they watched the Rheinmaidens twirl on their wires and sing their quartet with Alberich.

Beckett listened to the conversation between her boyfriend and the woman they were charged with protecting with her own sad smile...until a faint cracking sound started to compete for her attention. She filtered out the music and started to carefully scan the area, hoping to find the source of the annoying sound before annoying became dangerous.

As Jake's opening measures as Wotan started onstage, Castle couldn't help but notice his partner's level of distraction. Beckett? he sent through their link, What is it?

I'm hearing cracking, Beckett replied. Something around here is falling apart...

Is it onstage? asked Castle.

Beckett shook her head. No, it's in the house somewhere...

Close, or far?

Far, replied Beckett. I think it might be above our heads...

Castle followed his partner's line of sight to the ceiling. The chandeliers in the theater looked like small galaxies: a combination of lights, fragile crystals and long, sharp-looking metal rods. Are *those* what you're hearing?

I think so, yeah. The fear in Beckett's mind voice was clear and growing as the cracking from the ceiling grew louder and louder...until it stopped.

And twenty-one chandeliers broke away from the ceiling on a collision course with the unsuspecting audience below.

Happy Guardian Monday! Two more chapters left after this one. :) So what do you think? Having fun so far? Leave your comments below!