Chapter Twenty-Six
Twenty-Six
Eric called four times during the night, leaving voicemails that I deleted unheard, which meant I was not in a great mood when I snuck out of the apartment the next morning.
Worse, without the MTA to ferry me into Midtown, I was resigned to walking the entire way.
In a rare stroke of good luck, however, I came across an abandoned bike lying in the street, possibly left there after its rider was devoured.
Wherever that person was now, I decided the bike was fair game and set off in a slow, wobbling trajectory that barely approximated a straight line.
I hadn’t ridden a bike in a very long time, and it was rough going at first—I ran into a parked car almost immediately, then toppled with a scream into a very prickly hedge—but I got the hang of it eventually.
Though I kept an eye out for patrolling military caravans or other signs of trouble, Manhattan was unnervingly quiet, even for a Sunday.
The cautious and the frightened were staying inside while everyone else had either been detained or was trying to find ways off the island.
After I crossed from Central Park into Midtown, I saw a few individuals skulking from building to building or scuttling along the sidewalks, perhaps looking for safety in the abandoned office towers.
Only when I reached Dark Enterprises, however, did I find people dressed for work.
Employees were trickling into the building, leaving a variety of bikes and scooters outside, and as I dismounted from my own bike a middle-aged woman came rolling up on a skateboard, looking sweaty and annoyed.
She visibly steeled herself before pushing through the revolving doors, and she wasn’t the only one.
Crossing the street, I got Ms. Crenshaw’s coffee from the Starbucks, trying not to notice the fear in the barista’s eyes as she gave me a dutiful, company-mandated smile.
What are we doing here? I asked myself as I walked outside and stared at the blank facade of Dark Enterprises.
The smoked glass had been repaired, and we’d been promised that new defenses were in place, but I doubted that anyone inside believed they were safe.
Safety no longer existed. Oh, and by the way, no one could be trusted, either, because they probably worked for the Seraphic Conclave.
Everything was stupid and pointless and dumb.
Lost in this self-pitying spiral of angst and frustration, I strode back across East 54th and into the lobby I’d barely escaped the day before.
As I stepped onto those treacherous, polished floors, I heard a faint echo of despairing screams and couldn’t stop myself from looking down.
Reflected there was my own face, pale and wary, framed against the ceiling high above.
Other employees were doing the same thing.
As we clustered together, waiting for an elevator to arrive, we did so in tense silence.
It sure didn’t look like any of us wanted to be there.
I was alone by the time I stepped off onto the thirteenth floor.
Unnervingly, there were no distant screams at all, though the air seethed with watchful menace.
I recognized that feeling: Management had dropped by.
They were probably meeting with the entire board.
I wondered how many executives would survive the experience.
Not my problem. Placing Ms. Crenshaw’s coffee on her desk, I retreated to my own and stared blankly at my keyboard.
I could find work to do, but why bother?
None of this mattered. I didn’t believe that The-One-Who-Hungers would stay trapped in Hell, and if the day before had been any indication, the company’s executives were incapable of handling it.
I had no idea what would happen if Management intervened, but it wouldn’t be good.
On top of that, Lex was MIA, Eric was a lying jerkface who wouldn’t stop calling, and I’d abandoned the only person I had left in the world to come and sit at this stupid desk, answer stupid emails, and wait for the world to end.
I remained lost in this bleak reverie until Ms. Crenshaw walked through the door, as composed as ever.
Belatedly, I realized that the threatening, bowel-clenching atmosphere had dissipated.
If Management had disintegrated any of her fellow executives or cast them into the Outer Darkness, she gave no sign of it.
“You’re here,” she noted as she paused in front of my desk. “Good. We have work to do.”
My frustration spiked. “What work?” I demanded. “What can we possibly do? Why are we even here?”
“You sound upset,” Ms. Crenshaw observed.
“I am! I left my best friend so I could bike halfway across Manhattan and then sit here wondering when more of us are going to die!”
Her gaze remained coolly remote as she studied me.
“We are here because Management expects it. They are…displeased. Ten minutes ago, They made an example of the Chief of Security, who is presently smeared across the boardroom, and put the rest of us on notice. We will share her fate unless we contain the situation ourselves.” She paused, and her mouth thinned ever so slightly before she added, “I believe They expect us to fail.”
I stared at her. “Why would Management tell you to do something that won’t succeed?”
“I’ve found it’s best not to speculate about Their motives.”
“And if you do fail?”
“Then Management will intercede directly. They will sequester New York in another realm and try to bind the Abomination again. Even if They succeed, the entire world will have watched one of its great cities vanish from existence. The masses will become aware of forces and powers beyond their understanding, leading to decades of instability and paranoia that will make the witch hunts of the past look like amusing diversions. The company will be driven back into the shadows for a time, but Dark Enterprises will survive. We always do.”
Her calm recitation made my skin crawl. She was describing Management’s best-case scenario, and it wasn’t good.
Better, perhaps, than a lifeless piece of rock orbiting the sun, but I didn’t want to be sequestered, whatever that meant, or burned at the stake by a mob of panicked normies. “That’s—” Words failed me.
“Did you think this would end happily, Colin?” Ms. Crenshaw inquired icily. “That the unleashing of one of humanity’s most feared and implacable enemies would conclude with everything wrapped up in a neat little bow? I’m sorry to disappoint you.”
Maybe she was right. Maybe a happy ending had never been in the cards after all. “We have to try, though,” I insisted. “We have to destroy that thing before it kills us all.”
“An ambitious goal,” she said wryly. “The executive board will settle for binding it, if we can.” Glancing at her phone, she added, “The devouring of the city has resumed, so it would appear that the Abomination managed to escape Hell. Analysis and Logistics is working to track its location, and R&D is designing a containment apparatus that requires a number of specialized materials. We have people scouring the planes for some of them, but the most important are human in origin. We haven’t had time to appoint a new HR director, so I need you to go down there and make sure they’re properly motivated. ”
I hid a wince. “Why me?”
“Because I’m telling you to do it.” Ms. Crenshaw tapped at her phone, and my own phone vibrated in response. “You have the list of resources we need. Off you go.”
While waiting for the elevator, I checked the list that Ms. Crenshaw had emailed.
It consisted primarily of humanity’s worst vices, things like greed, hypocrisy, authoritarianism, cruelty.
These darker impulses had created the first Abominations—perhaps they were still drawn to them now.
If so, the executive board was constructing a metaphysical honey trap for an enormous wasp.
When I arrived at Human Resources, I left the elevator and turned right, following the same path I’d taken every morning for two years.
Things seemed subdued, unsurprisingly, and as I walked along the edge of the bullpen I noticed a number of empty cubicles.
Their occupants either hadn’t survived the events of yesterday or had opted not to return to work. Either way, they were dead.
Inspirational posters featuring adorable animals no longer covered the walls in what had been Ms. Kettering’s office.
Now it looked bleakly sterile, its only occupant Sunil, sitting at his desk in one corner of the room.
He should have been out on the floor, rallying what was left of the department, but instead he was playing solitaire on his computer.
His unprofessionalism suddenly enraged me.
The company was in crisis, and he couldn’t even be bothered to do his job.
“You realize we’re in an emergency, right?” I demanded from the doorway, voice hard.
He jumped a little and turned to look at me, eyes burning with dislike. “What are you doing here, Harris?”
“I need the most recent numbers you have for resources cached here in the building.”
“Kiss my ass.”
“And contract gonorrhea? No thanks.”
Deliberately, he rose from his desk. “What did you say to me?”
“I said, I don’t want to come within half a mile of your ass,” I responded with chilly anger, “but here we are. Now. Get me those numbers.”
Sunil stalked toward me, voice hissing from behind clenched teeth. “Who the fuck do you think you are? You can’t talk to me like that.”
“I just did.” Like everything else, Sunil no longer mattered.
He couldn’t intimidate me now. “The board wants a bunch of resources funneled to R&D by close of business, so we don’t have time for your toxic masculine bullshit.
Go back to your computer, call up your latest quota report, and show me what’s available. ”
Looming over me, Sunil grabbed the front of my cardigan in one fist. “I’m going to put you on your knees,” he growled.
Unbidden, an incantation floated into my mind, the same one I’d practiced endlessly for Ms. Crenshaw.
Looking up into his eyes, I spoke the words with flawless intonation while focusing my will on the hand holding me.
Greenish flames burst to life, licking hungrily at his skin, and he stumbled back with a yell.
I spoke another word and the fire died as abruptly as I’d conjured it, leaving his shirt cuff blackened and smoking.
For a long moment, neither of us moved. Eyes wide, he cradled his hand close to his chest, the skin reddened and raw. “You—” He stopped, then tried again. “You just—”
I didn’t let him finish. “While you’ve been down here playing solitaire and jerking off in the bathroom, I’ve been learning the secrets of the fucking universe.
You think you’re hot shit, Sunil? You’ve spent the last four years running errands for a mid-tier exec.
I work for the CEO, and she’s taught me things that would blow your puny mind. ”
“You can’t talk to me like that,” he said again, sounding less certain this time.
Contemptuously, I turned my back on him. “Send me those numbers ASAP, or I’ll come back down here and set your junk on fire.”
I was waiting at the elevators when his voice roared across the bullpen.
“Harris! We’re not done here!” A few heads appeared over the cubicle walls as he came after me, striving to regain his usual confident swagger, crowding into my personal space.
Rather than shrinking back the way I had the day before—had it really only been a day?
—I stared up at him and waited while my former colleagues watched.
“I still know what you did,” he said, his voice now a low snarl. “You used an angel to try to stop that…that thing that showed up yesterday, and you failed. In fact, you probably made everything worse. I can’t even imagine what the board will do to you when they find out.”
I let the moment stretch well beyond the point where it became uncomfortable before asking, “You saw what happened to Tamsin, right?”
He blinked, sneer faltering. “Yeah. She’s dead. Because of you.”
“Wrong. She’s dead because she fucked with me. So go ahead and run to the board. In fact, why don’t you come with me right now?” I made myself smile. “We’ll see if you make it to thirteen.”
His face went a little gray.
“If R&D doesn’t get what they need,” I continued, “Ms. Crenshaw will descend on this department like a hurricane, and the first person taking early retirement will be you.” It was my turn to crowd into him, forcing him to fall back a step.
“Everyone who’s crossed me is dead, Sunil, except you.
Be smart. Keep your mouth shut, do your job, and maybe you’ll survive what’s coming. ”
His lips writhed. “This isn’t over.”
“Sure it is.” With perfect timing, the elevator arrived, opening with a cheerful ding. I stepped inside, and as the doors began to roll shut I asked, “Who’s the ten now, bitch?”