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He turned down the hallway.
“Down here,” Sylvester said, leading her down a narrow aisle lined with small, unoccupied offices.
“What’s happened, David?” Susan asked, leaning in close to the detective.
“What didn’t happen, more like it,” Sylvester said. Sylvester’s eyes were heavy with dark rings underneath, and it looked like the last time he’d seen a good night’s sleep was sometime in the previous decade.
“I wish you’d get some rest, David,” Susan said, concern lining her smooth Angel face.
“I’ll rest later,” Sylvester said, trying to change the subject. “This morning your tech guy discovered that our private network had been compromised. Someone cracked the first-level encryption, and the National Angel Services would have known our exact location in an hour, two hours at most. We moved out in twenty-eight minutes and came here. A safe house.” Sylvester gestured to the rest of the building.
Susan lifted an impressed eyebrow and smiled at Sylvester. Smiles were a rare, welcome sight in Angel City these days, and Sylvester savored this one. “Good. But if we’d gone with my emergency plan, it would have taken twenty-five minutes,” she said.
Sylvester paused as he reached a closed door. A thin ribbon of light shone from underneath into the otherwise dim hallway. All was quiet. He opened the door to reveal a hive of activity, which pulled him and Susan in immediately. The formerly unoccupied office—furnished with not much besides a couple of old printers collecting dust in the corner, an overturned rolling office chair, and papers scattered along the floor—had been quickly transformed into a headquarters of sorts. A handful of humans and Angels sat around a long table, fingers running lightning-fast over laptop keyboards. Another group stood clustered around a stack of documents they were examining, slurping coffee. They’d been at it since before dawn.
Hanging on the wall beside the desk Sylvester had claimed for himself was an enormous map of Angel City, presiding over everything. It was a touch of home for the detective, who had a similar map decorating the wall of his own apartment. Across the map were red circles that marked all the locations of the demon attacks during the first wave, as well as blue dots that represented the isolated attacks on individuals. Of course the detective had started to formulate a theory. But he had been keeping it to himself. For now.
This was the resistance. A ragtag group of humans and breakaway Angels dedicated to bringing the Immortals into the fight against the demons. Before it was too late.
Moving under cover of darkness, using every tool it had, the resistance had to evade detection by the Angel authorities as it attempted to grow its network of spies and finally turn the Angels to the group’s side. The Angels were the only chance for Angel City’s survival, if everyone was being honest.
With the city already reeling after the first attack, supplies were barely trickling into the metropolis, and an entire populace remained hidden inside. Random demon scouts were prowling the borders, disrupting attempts to bring in support from the outside and making the city truly feel under siege. Outside Angel City, the rest of the world watched in horrified anticipation for what was going to happen when the demons struck next.
And as if trying to remain underground from the Council and the Angel Disciplinary Council Agents wasn’t enough, the resistance also had reason to believe its members could be specifically targeted by the demons because of their efforts. Just another reason for the group to be extra, extra careful.
Sylvester thought back to how all this had begun for him. Back in his apartment, he’d been tracking demon sightings and “events” across the globe as the demons amassed their army. A derailed train in England. A five-alarm fire in an apartment complex in Beijing. Innumerable tragedies, all seemingly unrelated, but eventually they all started to add up. He had been getting anonymous tips from a woman, who turned out to be Susan, and Sylvester had made it all the way to the inner sanctum of Gabriel and the Council of Twelve to plead his case. But the Council denied his request for action. It had been more concerned with the human-Angel war. The demon sinkhole arrived just days later, and Susan swooped in to talk Sylvester off his bar stool. So it was that she and Detective Sylvester—and one other—had formed the resistance.
Susan had been privately working against the Council for years, organizing an underground resistance within the ranks of the Angels. Hers was a protest of conscience against the way the Angels had drifted from their true purpose. Throughout all the recent discord, Susan had remained quiet. She became an Archangel and trained new Guardians, all the while waiting for the right moment to move against the Council. Her organization went deep, with spies across every branch of the NAS, so when the Angels had decided to sit out the demon war and leave the humans to their fate, she knew it was time. That was when she found David, her old friend.
Publicly moving against the NAS had put Susan’s life in danger, and she had been denounced by the Angels at once. They’d started a smear campaign against her, trying to discredit her with all kinds of lies. But still she’d moved forward despite everything, with Detective Sylvester by her side. This was too important for her to waste time worrying about herself. The resistance was what mattered.
An operative sipping coffee looked up as Sylvester approached. He was Sylvester’s ACPD partner, Sergeant Bill Garcia.
“Didn’t we agree you’d go home and spend some time with your family, Bill?” said Sylvester.
“My wife and kids understand what’s at stake,” Garcia said. “I won’t have a family if the demons win.”
Sylvester’s brow darkened.
“And you know we can’t trust the ACPD,” Garcia continued. “The Angels have informants everywhere. I’ve got enough vacation days to cover this time away—don’t you worry.”
Detective Sylvester nodded, and put his hand on Sergeant Garcia’s shoulder. “Just make sure you get out of here and go see them at some point. They’ll need you, too. When the time comes,” he finished gravely.
Sylvester’s gaze traveled to where the tech brainiacs had set up. They made up a large team of Angel and human communications experts working around the clock to try to trace Angel communications. They knew that even though the Angels had gone down to the sanctuary, the Angels were still communicating around the globe to Angels in other countries, as well as communicating on secure channels inside the sanctuary itself. By tracking these communications they would be able to judge the state of the Angel leadership and the loyalties of the Guardians. And it was vital to Sylvester and Archson’s group to have advance notice if one of their spies was uncovered—that way, their operative would have at least the slightest chance to escape.
“Any progress?” Sylvester asked. One of the human code-breakers sipped from a twenty-ounce bottle of cola and just shook his head. With one big slurp, he emptied the bottle, tossed it into a wastebasket that was already overflowing with empty bottles of the same sugary drink.
Susan approached Sylvester’s side. “Today’s the day we’re going to try to get supplies and weapons to those working for us. We have to be prepared for what will happen when the full demon attack hits, especially if the sanctuary is still controlled by the Angels.”
“I’m not ready to give in just yet.” Sylvester shuddered as he recalled the grisly sight that had met him and Garcia in the tunnel along the Angel City River, when he had finally known the demons would be coming. The decaying remains of dozens of missing homeless men, that massive mound of blood, flesh, and bone they’d discovered where the demons had been feeding underground, made up a macabre monument to cruelty.
“Let’s really drill down today on establishing safe communications with President Linden and the military
,” Sylvester said. “I have a good feeling if we can bypass the ACPD and local officials and go straight to Linden’s people we can avoid any leaks back to the Angels. Linden doesn’t have many friends in the Council or Archangels in his camp.”
“On it, boss,” said the computer guy with the cola habit as he turned to another one of his computer terminals. The monitor was spitting out an endless series of green digits on a black Unix screen. “Just need to find the secure band for the government channels . . .”
Sylvester waved him off. “I don’t even want to know how many laws you break doing it. Just do it so we’re not found out.”
