Justin swept Erin into the crook of his left arm, nearly crushing the air from her lungs, and leaped out into the void.

They fell at the same time as a CHP SUV, the black-and-white vehicle tumbling beside them through the air, lights still flashing, the driver clawing madly at his door handle, as if getting out would help. Car, cop, monster, and screaming socialite fell in a hail of concrete chunks and flailing bodies, accompanied by a soundtrack of howls and screams, racing engines that turned wheels in the air, and twanging cables that cracked like bullwhips.

Justin saw the water rushing up at them. This fall—this identical fall—killed about forty suicides in any given year, but he knew it wouldn’t kill him; he was Knightmare, and Erin was in the crook of his mighty arm, where she would be protected by the chitinous armor.

Even for Knightmare the impact was shocking, a sudden, massive deceleration that tore Erin from his grip and the air from his lungs. Down, down he went. Down and now swept away by the current went Erin. Down through gray water, down and down, impossibly down, and all around Justin like depth charges the police and civilian vehicles, the pedestrians, and the debris plunged, tearing bubble columns in the water. A massive slab of something hit Justin in the back, bounced away, and caught Erin in a glancing blow that expelled the last of the air from her lungs.

Justin sank downward, eyes raised to the horror show. A boy, no more than ten, hit the water directly above him, facedown, a disastrous belly flop that sprayed blood from his ears and mouth and rammed his eyes into his brain.

Justin tried now to swim upward but his sword was less than useless, and he was not quite buoyant.

Monster, Chapter 11