Christina Henry: Black City

“I wouldn’t mind a little something myself,” Beezle said.

“You don’t need it,” everyone in the room replied, including Samiel, who signed the words.

“If you’re going to be that way about it,” Beezle grumped.

“We are,” I said.

Samiel went into the kitchen. Nathaniel and Jude continued bristling at each other.

“Why is my life filled with men?” I said to no one in particular.

“Beats me,” Beezle said. “It’s not your charming personality—that’s for sure.”

I gave him a sour look.

“I don’t even have to try,” Beezle said. “The punch line was right there.”

“Stand down,” I said to Nathaniel and Jude.

They both turned to look at me, and it was only then that it really registered that they were both covered in blood. And so was I. I was abruptly aware of the gore drying on my face, of my red-stained hands. It was a sad commentary on my life that I was so frequently covered in blood that I wouldn’t notice its presence even when I was soaked in it.

Samiel reentered the living room carrying a sandwich. The thought of eating it while covered in the ichor of dozens of vampires made my stomach turn.

“Help me up,” I said.

Nathaniel rushed to help me but I gave him a pointed look. “I asked for Samiel.”

My brother-in-law put the sandwich on the coffee table as Nathaniel backed away with a frozen look. I knew there was a reckoning coming with Nathaniel. Sooner or later I’d have to decide whether he was an ally or an enemy. I couldn’t keep him floating in the netherworld between forever.

Don’t touch that sandwich, Samiel signed to Beezle.

“I know how to get my own food,” Beezle said loftily.

Don’t touch that sandwich, Samiel repeated.

He came around to take my arm as I stood. Now that the adrenaline of the fight had worn off, my legs had turned to mush.

“Bathroom,” I said, and Samiel helped me limp along while the other three silently watched us go.

Samiel helped me as far as the tub, then looked at me expectantly, his face red.

“Yes, you do need to help me get my clothes off,” I said. “I’m sorry. Chloe would be better for something like this.”

Samiel’s face went tight at the mention of Chloe. The Agents we saved from Azazel were taken to Northwestern. I overheard Sokolov’s goons talking about it.

Sokolov. The lapdog of the Agency administration who seemed to have devoted his life to making mine miserable. Just thinking about him made my fists curl.

I knew what Samiel was worried about. Northwestern Memorial Hospital was downtown, just off Michigan Avenue. But it was several blocks north and west of Daley Plaza.

“Don’t worry,” I said, and I was glad Samiel could only read lips. I didn’t sound very convincing. “The barriers were being set up south of the river. The hospital is well north of there.”

You know and I know that if the vamps get inside the hospital, it will be a bloodbath, Samiel signed.

“Chloe’s tough,” I said.

She’s also recovering from major trauma.

“All right. All right. We’ll go get her,” I said. “Just let me clean up first.”

Thank you, Samiel signed, his face relieved.

We managed to get me through the bathing process with a minimum of embarrassment on both sides, and Samiel helped me dress. As I pulled a tank top over my head he touched the long scabs on my back where my wings used to be.

Do you miss them? he signed.

I put a sweater over the tank top and nodded. “I never thought about how much I relied on them before they were gone.”

I wonder if you’ll ever get them back.

“I don’t think so,” I said. “They were part of my Agent’s powers, and I’m never going back to the Agency.”

But you’re Lucifer’s granddaughter.

“Much diluted by thousands of intervening generations.”

Samiel shrugged. You’ve had other latent powers appear.

“I suppose,” I said doubtfully, looking at the missing two fingers of my left hand. Lucifer had assured me some time ago that the digits would grow back, and they never had. So I wasn’t putting a lot of stock in the idea that I might regrow my wings.

Samiel left the room for a few minutes. When he returned I’d managed to get my socks on. He carried a plate with a sandwich.

“That doesn’t look like the same sandwich,” I observed.

Can you guess what happened to the other one? Samiel signed. Now, eat up. I swear you are looking thinner by the minute.

I’d thought they were all exaggerating about my appearance, but I’d noticed my jeans were looser than they were yesterday. This was probably a worrisome development, but given all the other worrisome developments in my life, losing a little weight ranked low on the priority list.

I stuffed the sandwich in my mouth. I didn’t realize just how ravenous I was until I took the first bite.

“There’s one thing I want to do before we go to the hospital,” I said after chewing the last bit of sandwich. “Call J.B.”

He won’t be able to help us, Samiel signed. He’s on thin ice with the Agency as it is.

I had a flash of J.B. spread-eagled on a table, tortured by Sokolov and his goons. “Yeah, you could say that. But he’ll be able to confirm the location of the hospitalized Agents for us.”

I’ll get your phone, Samiel said, and went out again.

I could hear raised voices coming from the living room, but I didn’t have the energy or inclination to intervene in yet another argument. Jude and Nathaniel probably needed to have it out once and for all anyway. I just hoped they didn’t destroy the living room in the process. My house had been trashed enough in the last month or so.

Samiel returned and handed me the phone. I saw that there were four missed calls, all from J.B.

I dialed his number and waited for him to pick up. There was barely half a ring before he barked into the receiver. “What’s the point of having a phone if you never pick it up?”

“So sorry. I was busy battling the vampire menace taking over the city,” I said dryly.

“I know where you were,” J.B. said. “I saw you, and so did everyone else in Chicago with a television set. You and Jude and Nathaniel and Samiel.”

“We were on the news,” I said, dread filling me. This was not good.

“Goddamn right you were on the news. And you’d better be more careful from now on. Half the reporters have decided you’ve been sent from heaven to save humanity from the plague of vampires, and the other half have declared you should be shot in the street with all the other monsters,” J.B. said. “I’ve got to go. It’s total chaos here. The whole Agency is in lockdown mode.”

“Wait,” I said. “Can you tell me if Chloe and the other Agents we saved from Azazel are still at Northwestern?”

“Yeah, the Agency hasn’t had time to move them with everything else going on. We can’t even come close to keeping up with the new souls. The board is diverting Agents from other regions to help. Wait—why do you want to know about Chloe?” J.B. asked warily.

“Samiel wants her with us,” I said shortly. “Why doesn’t the Agency put together an army to fight the vamps instead of struggling to clean up the mess?”

“You know the answer to that,” J.B. said.

“If the Agency doesn’t get off their ass and do something, there won’t be any souls left to collect in this city.”

“You don’t have to tell me that,” he said. “But I’m not exactly a trustworthy figure around here anymore. No one in upper management is going to listen to me.”

“You spend too much time with me.”