I’d grown complacent with my life, and I needed some motivation to pick myself up, to get going somewhere, anywhere but Humpuck. I guess going on the run from things that wanted to kill me and eat my soul was motivation enough.

  But still – what in the actual fuck was going on?

  There. A skate park, one I used to visit to just to watch the other kids show off their tricks. My situation was serious, yes – could anything be more dire than fleeing a demon prince on foot? – but my laughter came as a single burst of air through my nostrils as I remembered how, back in the day, I thought that maybe skating would be my ticket out of town. A few of the guys had moved on, leaving Humpuck to go live and work in Los Angeles, or San Diego, beating their chests and boasting about how they were going to be the next Tony Hawk. I had to wonder if any of them ever made it.

  I launched myself at one of the smaller full pipes set around the park, one that always had this particular problem of getting overgrown on the inside with weeds and shrubs that insisted on poking their way up through the cracks. Nobody used that one, not unless they wanted a face full of brambles. I pressed my back up against its cold cement wall, tucking myself as close to a prickly bush as I dared. The light from outside wouldn’t reach in there. I’d be safe.

  Except that my skin was glowing like a lantern.

  No. That was the last thing I needed. I glanced down at myself, horrified at the golden light spilling out of the sigils branded into my body. The patterns didn’t hurt anymore, but I was going to be in so much more trouble if Beelzebub found me. Why were they glowing? Why was I glowing?

  I shut my eyes, steadying my breath, willing myself to calm down. Through my eyelids I could tell that the light was fading. It was working. I opened my eyes again, and my skin was back to normal, the sigils tattooed there dormant, unremarkable apart from their design.

  My hand clamped over my mouth as I let myself settle even more, as I tried to keep myself from breathing too loudly. The run had taken a lot out of me. I wasn’t new to the concept of exercise, okay? But you try running full tilt from a thing that promises it won’t hurt when it tries to take a bite out of your soul.

  From somewhere outside the pipe, I thought I heard footsteps. I held my breath, the fingernails of one hand digging into the skin just by my mouth, my other hand pressing a wet, sweaty palm print into the pipe’s inner wall. Then seconds later, from far overhead, came the sound of buzzing. Was that how demons worked? Did Beelzebub turn himself into a sentient swarm of insects, and was it out looking for me?

  The buzzing faded away soon enough, leaving just me huddled in the dark of the pipe. I gave it a few more minutes before I even thought about crawling out again, just to be sure. The world outside was safe, or as safe as it could be. Nothing but the wind softly blowing through trees, the skate park empty, like a playground after the Rapture.

  I sighed, sitting just at the mouth of the pipe, my arms resting on my knees. Where the hell could I even go? I had no family, no real friends to speak of. There had to be something. There had to be someplace. I leaned back, my hands pressing into the cool concrete of the skate pipe as I looked up at the sky, searching for a swarm of insects. Instead I found the pulsing blue pillar of light, far in the distance, where Raziel said I was meant to go.

  Samyaza. I had to find my father.

  5

  I ran my finger along the page, aging paper smooth and dry under my skin, my eyes still bulging out in disbelief. There he was, at least in name. Samyaza, king of the Grigori, of those who fell from heaven.

  My heart was racing, and I thought I could feel little beads of sweat forming on my back. Probably kind of an overreaction for someone who’s just flipping through some books in a public library, but this was more than just a little research session for me. In a way, it was like looking at a family tree, or just that one elusive yet important branch just above me, the one that represented an entire half of my heritage that had remained hidden all of my life.

  I kept my hand pressed gently down on the book to keep my spot as I looked around the library, like I was searching for clarification, for answers. Yet they were all there, right on the pages. Samyaza, Raziel, Beelzebub, just names out of books, all come to life in the span of an afternoon.

  “I must be losing it,” I mumbled to myself.

  Unless a bunch of psychos had gotten together, then orchestrated some elaborate ruse where everybody took on some extremely specific and very uncommon names, then this had to be true. I knew reality TV pranks could go pretty far, but who would go to such lengths just to get a reaction out of me?

  And what about the huge sword? That was real, too. I cut that guy’s arm off, and he picked it up and tried to use it to club me like it was nothing. Beelzebub’s eyes, I definitely didn’t imagine those. I tugged on my shirt and peered down at my chest.

  Yup. Those were still there, all the glyphs and sigils that burned themselves into me. I was still very much aware of them lingering on my skin, even though the pain had gone completely. As I realized in the skate pipe, everyone else would become aware of them, too, if I wasn’t careful about controlling my emotions.

  Last year – the first year I had to celebrate without Mom – I got myself a cupcake, stabbed a candle into it, and called that a birthday. This year I got burned alive by flaming tattoos that came out of nowhere, then hounded by a bunch of supernatural crazies. Probably my second worst birthday yet.

  I jumped as a paper cup thumped just next to my open book. I looked up to see who had offered it, my fight or flight instincts kicking in just as soon as I locked eyes, for the second time that day, with Raziel.

  “Drink up,” he said softly, smiling as he brought his own cup to his lips.

  I glanced around suspiciously, watching the corners of the library and straining to see around the edges of bookshelves to find any angels that were waiting to ambush me. But there was no one there.

  My fingers pressed even harder into the page with my alleged father’s name on it as I glared up at Raziel in defiance. “I think I’m better off not accepting drinks from strangers, thanks.”

  He shook his head and tutted, the sound of wood sliding across linoleum almost soothing as he slipped into the chair next to me. “Well, it wouldn’t be very angelic of me to poison you, would it?”

  I shrugged. “It wasn’t very angelic of those goons of yours to attack me and trash my home, either.”

  Raziel placed his cup on the table gently and sighed. “Again, I’m not affiliated with those ruffians. We’ve got our own factions upstairs, you know. I can assure you, I’m not at all interested in seeing you murdered.”

  I placed my fingers around the cup carefully, as if fearing it might explode, then gave it a tentative slosh. It was just water. Plain water. “We’re not supposed to be drinking where there are books, you know.”

  “Our little secret.” He winked, then brought his cup to his mouth again, taking a sip as his eyes glanced over to the book I was keeping open. “Ah. I see you’ve been doing a little homework.”

  I slammed the book shut, frowning. “So what if I have? I needed to verify a couple of things, see if you people were pulling my leg.”

  “And?”

  My hands ran across my scalp, ruffling my hair in frustration. “And I still think this is all too crazy to be true, but you’re all in there. My father, Samyaza. I saw mention of you, too. Angel of mysteries and everything. Then there’s that guy, Beelzebub.”

  Raziel’s eyes went wide, and his hand shook as he lowered his cup. “I’m sorry. I’m just confirming that I didn’t hear you wrong. Did you – did you say Beelzebub?”

  “That’s the one.” I pointed at one of the books on demonology I’d pulled out of the occult section. “Says here that there are different classifications of the princes, but most sources say that he’s the Prince of Gluttony. Also the Lord of the Flies.” I blinked, looking off into the distance as the pieces all locked together in my brain – the eyes, the iridescence, the constant buzzing. Now it made sense.

  “So the princes have taken an interest in you. This isn’t good, Mason. You need to leave Humpuck as soon as possible. Head for safety, for the pillar of light.”

  My eyes narrowed as I studied Raziel for a moment. It wasn’t that I distrusted him completely. As far as near total strangers went, he seemed okay, hadn’t tried to kill me on either occasion that we’d met. His eyes had an open, earnest quality to them, his mouth set in a troubled line, like someone who was genuinely concerned about what would happen to me if I stayed.

  And that was when I worried. I took a sip of my water – cool and crisp, and most important of all, free of angel poison – then settled my elbows and forearms on the table, watching him closely as I spoke.

  “Why do you care so much?”

  “I’m sorry?” Raziel’s lashes fluttered, his head shaking subtly, like he was taken aback. “What do you mean, why do I care?”

  “You don’t know me from Adam. We only just met. Yet everything you’ve told me suggests that you know of me, or at least my father. I should mean nothing to you – to any of you – but I knew that those angels wanted me dead because I’m an abomination, and I at least know that Beelzebub wants to eat my soul. But that leaves you. Why do you care so much?”

  Raziel’s palms were flat against the table, his fingers trailing across the surface as if they were trawling the wood for the answer he couldn’t give me. His eyes flitted to either side as he gawped like a fish, but a few seconds of hemming and hawing later, he finally sighed and spoke.

  “You are a newly awakened nephilim, Mason. A rare breed indeed, the offspring of a fallen angel who has access to unusual abilities. Being able to gather arms and armor from the Vestments isn’t something just anyone can do. It’s a powerful gift, and if used correctly, and responsibly, it can make you an extremely precious resource.”

  I raised my eyebrow. “A resource. Like a commodity.”

  “Don’t think of it that way.”

  “No, I think you made yourself perfectly clear.” I could feel the heat flushing up my skin. “I’m a rare specimen, so you and your people upstairs – at least the ones who aren’t out to kill me – are making nice and polite so I’ll come over to your side. Is that it?”

  Raziel shook his head quickly, raising his hands out towards me. “That’s not how it is, Mason. Please, you have to trust me. You’re in danger, and alone.”

  “And you’re supposed to be my guardian angel?”

  He straightened his collar, clearing his throat. “Well, not exactly. That’s not how things work, no.”

  I stood bolt upright, almost upsetting my chair entirely as I got to my feet. “Thanks for the drink, but I think I’ll pass on your offer of – whatever it was.”

  “Knowledge,” he said, reaching out to me, but never touching. “And the power that comes with it.”

  Power. Something like excitement shivered down my spine, and I almost turned to him, to ask more, to actually hear him out. Angel of mysteries, right? But something clattered from across the room, and not just the simple, accidental noise of a book falling from a shelf, either.

  I squinted, looking beyond the bookcases to find four men and women not at all subtly picking their way through the library, shoving people aside, ignoring a librarian as she chided them. She fumed as they pushed past and knocked over a stack of books, but the four strangers looked angrier, and all of them were headed directly for me.

  “Go,” Raziel said. “Now. You don’t want this to turn into something ugly, especially not with so many normals around.”

  “Normals?” I frowned at him, my feet ready to fly as the strangers came closer, and closer.

  “Civilians. The non-supernatural. Too much collateral damage. And you don’t want this fight, anyway. They’re demons. Unaffiliated, if you’re lucky, but they could be minions of the Seven.” Raziel shooed at me with his hands. “I suggest you flee. Now. I’ll see you again, Mason Albrecht. Stay safe. Stay alive.”

  He vanished before my very eyes, the empty air above me filling with the beating of huge wings. As for the four people stalking straight for me, I wasn’t staying to find out. I grabbed my duffle bag, turned tail, and ran the hell out of the library.

  Raziel did say demons, didn’t he?

  6

  I panted to catch my breath, my back pressed against a brick wall cooling from the warmth of day as night fell over Humpuck. If you peeled me off of it, I would’ve left a Mason-shaped imprint in the brick. Every part of me was covered in sweat, my clothes soaked through from the nerves, and yes, the fear. Demons, Raziel said. Whether they were sent by Beelzebub or someone else, I’ll never know, but I was gladder not to find out.

  I ran from the library and just kept running. Must have gone through five, maybe seven blocks, and assuming the demons didn’t know where to follow me, I was in the clear. It helped that darkness was already covering the city like a shroud, the sun dipping behind the skyline. A few more minutes, I told myself as I focused on taking deeper breaths, feeling the rise and fall of my stomach, the air smelling faintly of smog. Just a few moments more, just to be safe.

  Though safety, it seemed, wasn’t the order of the day. Just one alley over I heard a woman screaming, followed by the gruff grunting of what sounded like a very angry man.

  Shit.

  Humpuck was a trash heap, exactly the kind of place where someone might get mugged as soon as the sun went down. At least I hoped it was just a mugging. I hoofed it straight towards the sound of the struggle, fear and bravado pumping in my veins in equal measure. Just down the street, near the mouth of an alley, I could make out the silhouette of a man tugging on a woman’s purse. Shit. Someone was about to get hurt.

  What the hell was I thinking? I wasn’t a superhero. This was a great way to get killed. Still, something in my head told me that this was the right thing to do. I had to help. That wasn’t anything new, I guess. I’ve never been one to stand aside while a kid in school got bullied, and this was way more dangerous, way worse. Wait, was it the angel half of me that made me all nice and righteous? Aw, man. Lame.

  And yes, I realize the bad decision-making involved in my intervention – fleeing from demons just to run headfirst into more danger. But you know what? When a clutch of angels breaks your door down and a demon prince shows up asking to eat bits of your insides, a mugger doesn’t seem all that scary anymore.

  I turned the corner into the alley – why is it always an alley? – and flung my hand at the man. “Hey. Asshole.” I puffed my chest up as he turned to glare at me. Maybe if I made myself look bigger, I’d actually scare him off.

  Fat chance, though. I’m fairly tall, but this dude was taller. And I try to work out most days, but this guy looked like he was raised on a farm. By that I mean that he looked like he drank cow’s milk straight from the udder, then bench-pressed the cow the rest of the day. Protein and gains. He looked like he could snap my spine over his knee, in short, and it looked like he wanted to do it, too. Even the woman with the purse was looking at me with more pity in her eyes than fear for herself. I bit the inside of my cheek, stuck out my upper lip, then pushed my chest out even more, broadening my shoulders. That just made the mugger angrier.

  “What the fuck do you want?” he growled.

  “Put down the knife and step away from the nice lady.”

  The man’s eyes went up and down my body, cutting into me like blades. His hand pressed like a pincer around the woman’s purse the entire time. He spat on the ground, then leered at me. “I can eat you up and shit you out for breakfast, kid. Better go run to your mommy before I fuck you right up.”

  “No chance, dickhole.” I tried not to look so surprised by my own words. This sudden spurt of courage was unexpected, to say the least. It even felt like my shoulders were broadening more, my spirit somehow too big for my body to contain. “Let the lady and her stuff go and we’ll forget this ever happened.”

  The mugger released the purse, then cracked his knuckles. The purse fell to the ground, spilling its contents across the cement. The woman hyperventilated and clutched at her chest – nowhere to go with the man blocking her way out, and the alley tapering to a dead end. I’d have to beat the shit out of him, then. The question was how.

  But the knife in the man’s hand sent a little shiver of uncertainty through my chest. It wasn’t very big, but its blade was certainly long enough to do some serious damage. I reached out with my mind to the ether, waiting and hoping for something to happen – but nothing.

  I stared down at my empty hands accusingly. Where was that huge sword that magically appeared earlier? If I could just call that thing back into existence, then I could end this fight without even breaking a sweat. Theoretically, the sight of a weapon would be enough to scare the thug off. But nothing.

  The man stalked towards me, his teeth gritted and bared. What did Raziel call my gift again? The Vestments? Well, where the hell were they, and how was I supposed to tap into them?

  Closer, the man came. Three feet, now two feet away. “Come on, Mason,” I muttered to myself. “Do the thing. Come on, Mace. Come on.”

  Then it happened. A pulse of golden light illuminated the alley, distracting me, at first, until I realized that it had shot out of my own hand. Warm, solid steel filled the space between my fingers and palm, sturdy enough to strike with, but so unbelievably light. I looked down, finding a thick rod tipped with a large, menacing ball. A mace. I frowned at it.

  “Very funny,” I whispered.

  The woman screamed, and the man growled. “What the fuck is that?” He hesitated mid-step, looking around the alley. “Is this supposed to be some reality show? Where are the hidden cameras?” He regained his composure, raising the knife, then advancing towards me again. “You know what, fuck this. And fuck you, kid. Get ready to die.”

  My muscles took over, my heart about to burst out of my chest. I reared back, swinging the mace from a steady start and bringing it around in a whizzing circle to make direct contact with the man’s head. The awful sound of bone breaking cracked through the alley as my mace smashed against the mugger’s face.

 

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