What the bloody hell is that? A gigantic light splits the back of the room and sends out a glow. Did someone open a door or turn on a spotlight? I look at Anna and find she is the only one not looking at the light.
She’s looking at me. And then Kopano, who’s standing two seats down. She gives her head an almost indecipherable shake, and I feel an overwhelming urge to sit. It takes me a moment to realize she is using her silent compulsion, and I want to scream.
The room brightens further and Rahab lowers his arms. All of the attention has turned away from Anna, to the light. I squint as I try to look at it. Abruptly, I fall back into my chair and stare.
Angels. The Maker sent angels. Is this . . . did He answer my prayer? Or is this coincidence? I begin to shake, overcome by the beings pushing into the room. The Dukes are falling back and scrambling to move away. Neph jump up and run, huddling against the walls in fear. The angels eye the room sternly and I have no doubt they would gladly take out every one of our stained souls if the Maker gave the order. I want to run onstage and snag Anna away, but the angels move forward.
“It is not her time,” says the angel in front, nodding to Anna. “She will serve as a test to many souls.”
Not her time . . . I exhale in a rush. They really are here to save her.
Oho, Rahab is livid. A purple vein has taken prominence in his forehead. To see the Dukes crapping themselves might be the highlight of my life.
“Fine,” Rahab says with a deadly smile. “It is not her time now. But it is hers.”
The bastard raises his gun and shoots Gerlinda in the face. Anna shrieks as the girl tumbles back, dead. The angels rise up in unified indignation, and I lift a hand to block the brightness.
Chaos breaks loose as Rahab orders everyone out of the room. Neph push and shove to get to the exit. Where is Anna? As the angels retreat and the light fades, it’s turned into a damn near trampling spree.
I search for Anna, working my way through until I see her golden head. I call out to her, and she tries to press back into the crowd to get to me. I don’t know why it’s so important for me to touch her in that moment, but I need to feel her, to prove to myself she’s alive. We finally link hands near the exit, but Belial pulls us apart. He practically carries her out and shoves her into a cab, where she is whisked away. Anna and I watch each other through the back window until she’s out of sight. She’s safe. Adrenaline still charges through my body. I turn and walk briskly with the running crowd, getting as far from the Dukes as I can.
After an hour of wandering, I sit on a park bench in Manhattan and stare down at my shaking hands in the glow of a streetlight. I don’t know where the others have gone. I simply stare at my hands, in shock that there’s still blood of life pumping through them. My breaths are still hot against the cold air. My boots are still solid on the ground.
When you’re certain you’re going to die and then you live, it’s a strange sensation. But I don’t dare feel relief. I don’t dare feel anything. I don’t even startle when a hand comes down hard on my shoulder and I look up into the face of Belial. He jerks his head for me to follow him, and turns to leave without waiting. I shove my hands into my pockets and follow a few feet behind him.
I follow him into the underground, where we take the train to the end of the line in New Jersey. I follow him until we’re at a packed bar in Hoboken, clear of the Dukes in New York City. And then I sit in silence at the end of the bar as Belial orders five shots of Wild Turkey and throws them back one after the other, before sitting on the edge of the stool beside me.
He puts one giant hand on his thigh, and the other arm drapes along the bar beside me. He leans forward, boxing me in, and talks under his breath