A bead of sweat rolls down my back. Celine’s body is radiating so much heat... it’s all she can do not to light up like a candle.
She spews another furious sentence at top volume. A light turns on across the street, and I wince. There’s no way her neighbors are sleeping through this. The entire street is supernatural, but we’re breaking all kinds of Fringe rules.
I don’t have time to worry about that, though. The blobs are mobilizing.
“They’re coming,” Celine says. “Five, no—six total.”
“Got it!” My stomach does a backflip. I’ve never killed that many. Shit, I’ve never planned to kill anyone before either. Breathing deeply, I smell the burned skin of Malach’s palm, and my resolve hardens. They made their beds, now they get to die in them.
Movement comes from several spots along the street. They’re spread out, strategically spaced at the corners of the intersecting roads.Blocking our exits.Only one of them is close enough to have thrown the orb in the window.
“Change of plans,” Celine mutters. “I love you.”
Dread hits me like a truck. I try to get a better grip on her sweatpants, but I’m too late.
Celine dives through the window, flapping her wings hard. She hovers there, three or four feet above the window, bare feet dangling with Malach’s sword raised high above her head.
“Tell me,” she says, voice quivering with rage, “have you ever told a lie before?” She repeats the sentence in a celestial dialect, and her skin lights up like a glow stick—the truth rune etched across every visible inch.
My heart slams against my ribs. She’s a target. Even if some of these guys are bad shots in the dark, she’s lit herself up brighter than a godsdamnedlightbulb.
“Baby, I don’t think calling them on their shit right now is the best idea...”
“Stay back,” Malach says, grabbing my shoulder with his good hand.
Golden magic shoots from Celine’s chest in six pulsing bursts. My jaw drops as the beams transform into spears of light, zipping through the air toward each target.
The closest angel ignores the beam coming for him and hurls another glowing-death ball at Celine.
With the poise of a veteran batter, she swings the sword, driving the flat of the blade into the ball. The crack echoes—impossibly loud and terrible—like a mallet hitting a gong made of pissed off cats. It’s all I can do not to cover my ears.
The angel who threw the orb tries to dive out of the way. He’s too slow. Through my yellow-tinged vision, I watch the ball of light devour him whole. It expands rapidly, sucking him and a nearby trash can in before contracting to a pinprick of light and spitting out a round, lumpy mass. A round, lumpy mass dripping blood and guts.
I gulp, the chill behind my eyes spreading to cover my whole body.Nothing could be worse, right?The thought seems reasonable. Then Celine’s truth beams hit the remaining five angels, and I realize I was wrong. Incredibly fucking wrong.
I’ll never forget their screams.
The closest one—about ten feet from the base of our building—grabs his head as he wails. It’s torment come to life.
Shit. Fuck. Gods.I’m going to be sick.No, focus Luca. You have a job to do.
Shaking my head, I block out the wailing and shout at him. Whether he hears me or glances at my corner of the window by accident, I’ll never know. We lock eyes, and I end his life and suffering at the same time—immortalizing his final shriekin stone.
His death sets off a chain reaction. Two more angels look at me in shock, and I petrify them both, shuddering as my blood circulation becomes sluggish. It happens every time, a taste of my own medicine, and a reminder that all abilities have limits.
Two more angels remain, and one of them—fuck, he isn’t wailing anymore.
Jaw clenched, he crawls along the pavement, fumbling to open a pouch strapped to his waist. Shivering, I grip the windowsill and try to catch his eye, but my angle’s no good, and we’ve lost the element of surprise. I need a better vantage point.
Leaning out the window, I reach for Celine’s foot. If she anchors me, I’ll be able to surprise him during his next throw. My fingers graze her ankle, and I miss, lose my balance, and free fall toward the concrete.
Celine screams.
I wait for my life to flash before my eyes, but all I see is asphalt.
Then thick arms wrap around my waist like a vise. Hair in my eyes, stomach in my throat, Malach’s wings flap wildly as he tries to support us both.
“Can you”—he pants—“get a shot off?”
