forty-two
We skirt through the shadows, jumping from house to house towards the sound of gunfire. I focus on not letting myself wonder if they have come after us. I contemplate what would be worse: if there are humans lost out here amongst the creatures of the other worlds, or if Lilith’s army has found us.
The shots begin to fade, screams turning to commands. There’s a group of them, all in uniform, standing over piles of daemon ash.
The shadows are still around the humans; no dark veins crawl up their skin. The AIA branding on the back of their vests is almost blinding.
“Amara?”
My attention snaps to the man to my left, his dark eyes and hair standing out against the bright hues of the fading sky.
“Sam?”
I blink several times, hoping he will disappear as I do so. He looks at me as if I’m a stranger he never expected to see again, and then he smiles.
“Amara Jones. I should’ve known. You of all people would manage to fluke your way into surviving this long out here all alone.”
Sam’s laugh is unfamiliar, a sound that I’ve so rarely heard from him. Normally it’s at my expense, or a scoff at something I’ve said to him.
I smile back at him, an action that feels absurd. “Actually, I’m not alone.”
I lower my gun and nod towards the archangel.
Sam’s smile fades as he looks over the human who’s not human at all. “Who’s he?”
I think it over. My instinct is to give a smartass response that makes Sam feel inferior, but something about the question snares me.
Who is he?
He’s the archangel leading this war, though that they can’t know.
He’s a pain in my ass, yet he’s saved my life countless times.
He’s my enemy, yet I saved his life, too.
I look at him, remembering how close we stood only moments ago. Remembering the electric feeling of his thumb brushing mine. I remember how open he’s been with me, and I him. I remember that he swore he would leave me for dead if I slowed him down, yet he’s stopped to save me time and time again. I remember the feeling that forms in my stomach when we really look at each other and the silver in his eyes fades.
“He’s my… friend.”
Friend. I let the word float through my mind, looking back to the archangel. He blinks like a deer in headlights. As if he just saw me strip naked and run through the street without a care. His surprise fades to contemplation. Then his eyes soften, and the corners of his mouth turn upwards.
Yes. My friend, the archangel.
I smile back at him, letting the feeling sink in. He has become my friend, more than I ever expected him to.
“I call bullshit.”
Sam’s exclamation breaks the silence. “I’ve known you for years, and through that time you’ve only had one friend. And I still believe you pay him for it.”
The archangel snorts. My elbow meets his stomach.
Sam interrupts the archangel’s chuckle. “Do you have a name?”
He hesitates, deciding whether they are worthy of the truth. “Nathaniel.”
“Well, Nathaniel, blink twice if you’re being held against your will.”
There’s the Sam I know and loathe. He doesn’t smile, and I know it’s only half a joke. Though that doesn’t stop the smirk that spreads across the archangel’s face. I can already tell they’re going to like each other, and it’s infuriating.
“What are you guys doing all the way out here, Sam?” I ask.
Sam tucks his gun into his belt, and I do the same. “We were on patrol two days ago when we got a report of movement near the border of the city. An angel who was breaking the treaty. We followed him north until we reached a chasm. It was too large to cross, so we went around. We lost the angel, but hordes of daemons just kept coming, forcing us farther from the city.”
My breath hitches, my hands curling into fists. “They started patrols already?”
I feared it would be soon, but hoped I’d be back in time to warn them of all I’d seen. To tell them of the hellhounds, the chasm filled with hellfire. My chest tightens.
I’m too late.
Sam nods softly, his face changing. In the years that I’ve known him, I have never seen him show any emotion other than arrogance or annoyance. But now, sadness fills his eyes. “The day after you disappeared.”
I look around, noting the other squad members. Brendon lifts his middle finger to me, Alicia smiles brightly, Jacob hardly even offers me a nod, and Mary is too busy counting the bullets left in her gun to pay any mind to me. Though the only thing I really take note of is how many of them there are, and the noticeable absence of Sam’s partner in crime, Kate.
“You have five left…”
Sam’s jaw ticks before he clears his throat, the look of grief in his eyes vanishing as quickly as it appeared. “Started with ten.”
Kate was one of them. I think about offering him my condolences, but I know that if the roles were reversed and Xavier had been lost, it would only make me angry. “What killed them?”
I ask instead.
His face pales. “They were like wolves… but black as night. They were so dark we couldn’t even see them coming.”
“They were horrifying. You should’ve seen them, Amara.”
Alicia steps up beside Sam and claps him on the shoulder. “I never thought there’d be a form of dog that I would actually be able to kill. Those… They were no house pet, that’s for sure.”
She lets out a low whistle.
Hellhounds.
“You… saw them?”
I confirm.
Sam nods, and the archangel takes a sharp breath behind me. Sam will be dead within the year. All five of them that remain will be.
I open my mouth to tell him of his fate —
Foreign words make me hesitate. The archangel’s voice is soft in my mind.
If you tell him, he will spend the rest of his days in fear. He will always be waiting for death to knock at his door.
I look to him, his expression a gentle warning.
He’s right.
“We need to get off the streets. The sun is setting. If you’d like, you’re both welcome to camp with us.”
Sam doesn’t wait for our response before retreating towards Brendon, Jacob, and Mary. Alicia hovers back, her eyes focused on something in the distance.
“Are you alright, Alicia?”
I’ve worked with Alicia for years, but we’ve never really been close. She’s always reminded me of Xavier a little, with the goofy “shrug everything off”
attitude they share.
Her attention snaps back to me. “You know me, Amara. Can’t complain.”
She smiles, though it has a heaviness to it that wouldn’t have been there days ago. “I heard about your partner. Did you… find him?”
I know that what she really wants to ask is if he’s dead. I smile back at her. “We have an idea of where he is.”
She nods, her smile turning lighter. “You’ll find him. At least one of us has to have a happy ending, right?”
And now I know it won’t be her.
They’re all going to die. Even if they make it through this patrol, within a year, the hellhounds will come for each of them.
“Right.”
I squeeze her shoulder and keep her fate locked deep away within me.
Sam’s squad has perfected a routine for laying low in the suburbs. Pick a house that has suffered the effects of the war but is still somewhat intact. Lights stay off, candlelight only if available. Search the pantry and surrounding houses for any traces of edible food and divide it up equally. We take shifts patrolling while the others sleep. Showers are limited to a minute per person. We stay quiet, we stay hidden, and we stay safe.
It’s not a new concept to me. The AIA has engraved these things into our training. It’s one thing to learn how to fight; it’s another to learn how to survive.
Sam hands me a tin of tuna to share with the archangel, and I consider offering to share it with someone else, but decide it will raise suspicion. Then the archangel and I are sent to an ensuite upstairs for our allocated shift. I offer for the archangel to take the first shower, hoping that it provides me with more privacy.
We are to take the first watch with Sam. Three hours before we swap with Brendon and Alicia. Sam insisted that he stay on shift with us rather than two of his squad members. I roll my eyes at the thought, knowing that he only wishes to keep an eye on us. He has never trusted me, and he certainly doesn’t seem to trust the archangel. I’ve noticed furrowed brows and assessing looks. As if he is sizing up the archangel as an opponent. Whether it’s because he finds it hard to believe that I’ve made a friend, or because he notices the soft glow that illuminates the archangel’s skin, he doesn’t say.
I hear the tap turn off and push off the wall, ready to swap places with the archangel and enjoy my minute of calm cleansing under the water. The door creaks open and I find my eyes drawn to the figure that walks through it.
The archangel holds his torn suit in one hand, a towel wrapped around his waist. Drops of water glisten under the candlelight, illuminated in gold by the power that radiates from him. The droplets trail from his collarbone down the muscles that flex in his chest. It’s a race for which drop disappears beneath his towel first, and which can glimmer the brightest. I try not to let my eyes linger; they dart from the water dripping down his bare chest to a very interesting patch of paint on the wall.
“Would you like me to remove the towel?”
The archangel’s question intrudes into my thoughts, the smile that accompanies it filled with satisfaction. I was staring. Worse yet, I was mesmerised.
“Sorry?”
I blink three times, wiping my palms on my pants to dry them. I try not to meet his eyes, knowing that the silver will be dancing playfully with the blue. Knowing the amusement that will be clear within them.
“No need to apologise. I am quite happy to be admired.”
I can’t help but look, and as my eyes meet his, my face warms.
Before I can think it through, I take a step towards him. My eyes hold his gaze, the only sound the scraping metal of my blade drawing. I trace a soft line with the blade across his skin just above where his towel hangs on his hips. My teeth sink into my bottom lip to suppress a smirk as golden blood trickles from the cut.
The archangel winces, but his smile doesn’t falter.
“You missed a spot, archangel.”
My smile is calculating as I push past him, channelling his usual look of cool indifference and closing the bathroom door behind me.