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CHAPTER ONE
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ELIJAH
Today is my last day in Dallas, if all goes according to plan.
I’ve been planning my escape for weeks, confident that the rumors of a new round of Blessings are true. Folks have been whispering that, in the wake of New Austin’s takeover by the rebels, Dallas will be ramping up Blessings as the Angels mobilize us for their celestial war. I don’t have much of an opinion on whether this is actually the army of heaven or not. I only know one thing: I’m not going back under the knife, even if there’s hell to pay.
I’d rather join the Infernal Legion than give up what little independence I have left.
And of course, I’ve already been Blessed, but I’m defective. I don’t work well with a pack. I don’t follow instructions. Sometimes, I turn on my own kind.
So it’s time to get the hell out of my hometown, even if it kills me.
I wind my way through the shining skyscrapers full of Angels, then out into the edge of the city, where the Angels don’t have quite as much influence. Humanity has built tunnels underneath the old streets, where we can escape when we want to; the invaders don’t like getting dirty, so they don’t often come here. Still, it isn’t exactly safe, as you never know when you might stumble on other humans who think their Blessings are a nice thing. The Angels don’t have quite as many allies nowadays, but they still keep spies everywhere.
I reach my entrance point—an abandoned cafe across the street from the old farmer’s market—and fiddle with the lock until it clicks open, a cloud of dust puffing into my face. I cough and brush my tousled blond hair back from my face, waving my hand to get the dust away before heading inside. I haven’t been here for a while, but the last time I checked, there was a basement with a hole in the wall that will take me into the Resistance black market. I step inside the lobby and around the café tables, and I’m relieved to find that there are a set of footsteps in the dust leading around the back counter and down into the dark.
My eyes adjust to the light as I walk, glowing slightly from my Blessing. I’m considered a failure in terms of being an effective Lycanthrope—that is, I’ve never fully transformed, and I was impossible for a team leader to control—but the infusion of alien wolf DNAhasleft me with pretty good night vision.
I navigate around the toppled cardboard boxes, the smell of rancid coffee beans wafting up toward me. Of course, that’s another plus: my sense of smell, which clues me into all kinds of shit going on around the city.
It’s less helpful when the only thing to smell is old, rotten food.
That changes quick, though. I can smell tex-mex before I even step through the hole in the wall, the scent of Diego’s food truck making my stomach rumble. I would know the smell of that chorizo anywhere; Diego’s used to be my favorite spot to grab a bite, before the Angels cracked down on independent cooks. They wanted all food to come from them, allgood thingsto be a product of their “kind natures.” I guess he moved his operation down here, and he’s probably still peddling homemade tamales. Mm…yeah, I can definitely smell chorizo, complete with the perfect combo of cinnamon, garlic, and chili powder.
At least I know what I’m having for dinner on my last night in Dallas, even if I don’t know how I’m going to get past the wall.
Light creeps in slowly, blocked by a red curtain draped over the exit. I reach for it, stepping through only to be met by an angry, heavily armed man.
“Hey,” I say, raising my hands. “Sorry, just trying to grab a bite to eat.”
It’s a lie, but he doesn’t need to know that.
“This is Resistance territory,” the man grunts. “You Blessed?”
“Yeah,” I say. “But I’m not with the Angels.”
“So who are you with?”
“Myself,” I say with a bland smile. “Now can I please pass?”
He glares at me, his forehead creasing as his eyes narrow, and I’m only saved by the person behind him, a big guy in a stained white apron coming to my rescue.
“Elijah, is that you?”
I grin, popping my head around the guard.
“Hey, Diego!” I say. “Long time.” I look back at the guard. “See? I’ve got friends here.”
“Fine,” the guard says, stepping back. “You’re free to go.”
I tilt my head with a snarky smile before I brush past him, shoulder checking him just a tad.
The black market is in an old warehouse on the outskirts of the city, all the windows boarded up so no Angels can see inside. It’s a risky operation, but one that’s absolutely essential to maintaining our independence—and here in Texas, I can’t imagine we’ll ever really shake that off, even in the wake of an alien invasion. I chuckle when I catch sight of a familiarDon’t Tread on Meposter plastered to the wall, this time with a big red X over the silhouette of an angel. Below the emblem is the text “Keep Texas Alien-Free.”
Sure, they aren’t what I ever pictured aliens looking like…but I can’t picture them being from Heaven either.
