Part 1 (2/2)

”Emergency medical technician. I drive an ambulance.”

”Next best thing.”

”To a doctor?” He shook his head again, this time more emphatically. ”Not at all.”

”Well,” she said. She hesitated, finally stepping back from the shelf. She'd run out of creativity and couldn't think of anything else to talk about. ”Thanks for the advice.”

His eyes widened. ”Wait-aren't you going to pick up some supplies?”

”Maybe later.”

”Ah.” He frowned at her, then his expression smoothed. She realized instantly that he knew she had no money. As much as he dealt with people, he was probably an expert at reading situations. ”I'm Toby. What's your name?”

Name? Of course-she should have one of those, yet she hadn't given it a moment's thought. Giving her real name was unthinkable, but what should she call herself? Twice before she had been formally named, and she had used thousands of others through the millennia; for the first time, now she could choose her own. A million alternatives flashed through her brain, letters and languages with little rhyme or reason, still others with hidden purpose- ”Brynna,” she blurted.

All right. That would do.

”Very nice,” he said, but it was clear he was thinking about anything but that as his hand dug in his back pocket and brought out a worn leather wallet. ”Listen, Brynna. I think you could use a little hel-”

The left side of his head caved in.

There wasn't much sound with it, just a sort of thump thump and a crystalline tinkling that seemed to come and a crystalline tinkling that seemed to come afterward, afterward, almost as an addendum to the actual event. One moment Brynna was gazing at Toby, whose expression was sincere and vaguely like that of an eager-to-please child as he prepared to offer her money; in the next, she was blinking at a misshapen red hole easily two inches around. It was a huge and ugly thing that gouted blood down his shoulder; even more hideous was the way the right side of his skull had suddenly bulged outward, like someone had forced air into a balloon then let only part of it out. Toby's knees buckled and he turned and fell in front of her, leaving a pattern of b.l.o.o.d.y mist and vaporized skin in his wake. He went down as quickly and gracelessly as a dropped wooden puppet. almost as an addendum to the actual event. One moment Brynna was gazing at Toby, whose expression was sincere and vaguely like that of an eager-to-please child as he prepared to offer her money; in the next, she was blinking at a misshapen red hole easily two inches around. It was a huge and ugly thing that gouted blood down his shoulder; even more hideous was the way the right side of his skull had suddenly bulged outward, like someone had forced air into a balloon then let only part of it out. Toby's knees buckled and he turned and fell in front of her, leaving a pattern of b.l.o.o.d.y mist and vaporized skin in his wake. He went down as quickly and gracelessly as a dropped wooden puppet.

Brynna scowled and bent over him, but it was a useless gesture. He'd been gone and sent to glory in the millisecond between when the bullet had touched his left temple and slammed against the inside of his skull on the right. If she touched him, she might be able to see at least a hint of the duty his destiny had demanded, but why bother? Whatever task had been a.s.signed to this gentle and generous nephilim soul would never be completed. Now he was just an empty husk ready to be returned to the dust of the earth. ”For dust thou art, and unto dust shalt thou return,” she murmured.

Brynna straightened, then realized someone was screaming. It was an older man in a white coat behind the counter at the end of the aisle, and the only reason she even noticed was because it was so odd to her senses that there was just one man screaming instead of thousands. He was frozen in place, his sight locked on her as his mouth gaped and howled, and he gave no sign of stopping anytime soon. She sent him a puzzled look, then it hit her that this must be a terrible shock-most humans simply weren't used to blood and death on the same scale she was.

As if to underscore that, something red and moist dribbled down Brynna's forehead and slid across the bridge of her nose. When she reached to flick at it, her fingers came away washed in the familiar hue of scarlet. Her hair and face were splattered with Toby's blood. Nothing new historically, but it was really kind of admirable, the way humans had come up with so many deadly methods of killing one another. Twenty thousand years ago she never would have thought them capable of much more than desperate hunting with rudimentary tools, yet look at them now.

Brynna sighed and automatically tuned out the old man's screeching as she turned away from the nephilim's corpse. There was nothing to be done for Toby now, and she didn't have currency or anything else that seemed likely to be accepted in trade for the medicine the dead EMT had recommended. She had an idea that Toby's death was going to throw off the normal rhythm of things, anyway. From where she stood, Brynna could see the front window of the drugstore, or what had been the window before it, too, had been shattered by the same bullet that had killed her nephilim. Gla.s.s fragments sparkled in the sun where they weren't shadowed by the flapping remains of the advertising posters that had been taped to the inside surface. She glanced back at Toby one more time before starting toward the door. As she did, her gaze skimmed across the people gathering on the sidewalk; she stopped short as her eyes locked with those of a single young man.

Brown hair cut very short, hazel eyes. Tall and overly thin, all arms and legs underneath a hip-length denim jacket that was too heavy for the hot afternoon and bulky along one side- The escalating sound of a siren cut through the jabber of conversation outside. The man jerked his gaze away from Brynna's, then backed up and disappeared behind the gawkers crowding up to the broken window.

Brynna stared at the s.p.a.ce where he'd been, considering, before she quickly left the drugstore. There was no reason to stay here, and she certainly didn't want to be involved in any police investigation. The man outside, though, he was another story; there was something about him that intrigued her. Was he also a nephilim? Nephilim weren't common but they also weren't rare; still, to see one at the moment of another's death ... that was certainly on the side of odd.

The people standing on the sidewalk stepped aside to let her pa.s.s, and it took Brynna a couple of seconds to figure out why-she was b.l.o.o.d.y, her face and shoulders splattered with the last moments of Toby's earthly life. With her history, it was ridiculously easy for her not to notice something like this; the sensation, the sticky, heavy copper scent, the warmth-it was all just one more part of a bigger normalcy. But that had to change if she was going to blend into this this world. Judging from the appalled expressions of the onlookers and the way they backstepped, she really needed to work harder on remembering her surroundings. It was d.a.m.ned ironic-all the mayhem, murder, and devastation that mankind had wrought throughout the ages, yet now people in some of the most densely populated areas on the globe couldn't seem to stomach the sight of blood. How had the human race ever gotten through the Dark Ages? The Inquisition? The countless, never-ending wars they waged upon one another? world. Judging from the appalled expressions of the onlookers and the way they backstepped, she really needed to work harder on remembering her surroundings. It was d.a.m.ned ironic-all the mayhem, murder, and devastation that mankind had wrought throughout the ages, yet now people in some of the most densely populated areas on the globe couldn't seem to stomach the sight of blood. How had the human race ever gotten through the Dark Ages? The Inquisition? The countless, never-ending wars they waged upon one another?

There wasn't any place she could wash as she had in the park, so the best Brynna could do was stay close to the buildings and duck her head when someone came toward her on the sidewalk. She didn't miss that she was essentially skulking in broad daylight, and she hated having to do that. Skulking reminded her of the alley demons from Below, hideously filthy creatures that looked like a cross between hyenas and Komodo dragons. They prowled the blood-soaked pa.s.sageways of the undercities and preyed on fleeing souls, darting forward to snap and drag a fugitive into the darkest shadows. There they chewed on the screaming victim until nothing remained but ragged, twitching puddles of ripped and half-digested soul-flesh. When the soul finally died, they moved onto the next and left the ruined spirit to disintegrate and re-form back at the original location it had so stupidly thought it had escaped. h.e.l.l was nothing if not repet.i.tious.

Finally Brynna found a service station with outside restrooms. She waited, and when an older man came out of one door, she ducked inside; the sarcastic comment he started to utter died in his throat at the sight of her blood-smeared cheeks.

With her face and hands cleaned a few minutes later, Brynna came out and studied her surroundings. There was a big yellow Sh.e.l.l symbol above her, and on the corner was a dual street sign that read HALSTED HALSTED on one side and on one side and WRIGHTWOOD WRIGHTWOOD on the other. The air was heavy with the smell of gasoline, but Brynna barely noticed. She'd smelled a lot worse. on the other. The air was heavy with the smell of gasoline, but Brynna barely noticed. She'd smelled a lot worse.

The slight breeze tingled the places on her face that were still wet and Brynna let herself soak in the feeling for a few seconds. But only that-she wasn't here, standing on this particular corner in the city, by happenstance; even as she'd tried to make herself as invisible as possible, she'd been tracking the man she'd seen staring at her through the drugstore's broken window. There wasn't much to go on but the slightest hint of his body odor; by itself it wouldn't have been enough-there were too many other scents in the city that smothered it. But there was something unnatural mixed with it, something much stronger and heavier and impossible to miss.

Gunpowder.

Feeling less conspicuous now that she'd been able to clean up, Brynna lifted her head to the suns.h.i.+ne as she turned onto Wrightwood and followed the acrid scent west. She'd only gone two blocks before her sharp sense of smell made her turn north onto a heavily tree-lined street called Mildred Avenue.

The thick canopy of leaves from hundred-year-old oaks made the air cooler and dimmer; instead of heavy summer suns.h.i.+ne, the sidewalks and buildings were mottled with thousands of sunlit circles that moved and danced as the breeze cut through the leaf-laden branches. It gave the old apartment buildings a softer, more appealing look than they would have normally had. On an overcast day, Brynna knew they would appear as they really were: worn and overused brick and crumbling mortar fronted by cracked sidewalks and lawns dotted with weeds. Here and there were halfhearted splashes of color, geraniums, petunias, and marigolds planted along borders that weren't particularly straight. Right now there wasn't much going on and the street was devoid of people. That made it easy for Brynna to follow the stink of gunpowder down a shadowed walkway to where it ended at the gla.s.s-fronted door of an apartment building.

Brynna stood there for a moment, then tried the door. It was locked, which wasn't much of a surprise. Humans always thought they could keep out their version of the Big Bad with things like flimsy metal fastenings. It was a useless effort, but she wasn't here to be the evil anymore, was she?

She was pretty sure her target was a nephilim-he'd paused at the door and she was almost positive an ocean scent lingered beneath the caustic smell of gunpowder. There were names and doorbells along one side, but unless he made a habit of pus.h.i.+ng his own bell, she had no way of sensing which one belonged to him. It was a big building, at least thirty-six units, but once she was inside, it would be easy to find the door to his apartment.

Brynna tried the door again. The handle was nothing but decoration; the lock mechanism above was what kept it closed. To force it, she'd only have to break the jamb on the side.

”What are you doing down there?”

A sudden gravelly voice somewhere above her head made Brynna jump. She backed away from the door and looked up to where a wrinkled old woman with fuzzy, iron-colored hair was glaring down at her from two stories above. ”This is a Neighborhood Watch area, missy, and you'd better believe I watch it all the time.” The woman's voice climbed higher and took on a threatening tone as she squinted at Brynna. ”Never seen you here before.”

”I was looking for a friend of mine,” Brynna explained.

”Then ring the d.a.m.ned doorbell instead of hanging around like a hoodlum!”

”I don't know his last name,” Brynna said without thinking.

”Then you're not much of a friend,” the woman snapped back. ”You get out of here or I'm calling the police. This is a Neighborhood Watch area!”

”I heard you the first time,” Brynna said. She gave the door a final look, then shrugged. If the murderer who'd gone into this building really was a nephilim, he'd been corrupted, led astray from the path G.o.d had set out for him. It was unlikely Brynna would do herself any good by finding him anyway. Let the humans deal with the killer in their midst. She wanted nothing more than to forget he existed.

”I'm warning you!” the elderly woman screeched. the elderly woman screeched.

Brynna turned to follow the sidewalk back to the street. ”You have a nice day, ma'am,” she said as sweetly as she could. The woman muttered something cantankerous in return as Brynna touched her forehead in a gesture of farewell. A moment later the crone gasped and backed away from her concrete windowsill.

Brynna grinned darkly. Stone was always so good at soaking up heat. Maybe that would keep the old bat away from her Neighborhood Watch area for a while so her fellow tenants could go in and out in peace.

Two.

Spending her first night in human form was definitely a learning experience for Brynna. It might have gone better except for the burn on her arm; the wound was healing rapidly, more so than any normal person's would have, but it still hurt. The swift healing process also had a downside: the growing skin itched ferociously, yet if Brynna gave it the smallest rub, the itch morphed into a deep, savage sting.

She didn't notice the summer night's cooler temperatures; her heat came from within, stored from millennia spent in h.e.l.l. Had it been winter, Brynna could have slept in the snow and her body temperature would have melted a circle around her. But the weather wasn't the problem-she had nowhere to go, nowhere to sleep, nowhere safe safe to be. Still out there somewhere was the Hunter that had tried to capture her earlier, and although she might have a demon's soul, this was a human body, more or less, and it had human requirements. It screamed for things like food, rest, and bodily comfort. to be. Still out there somewhere was the Hunter that had tried to capture her earlier, and although she might have a demon's soul, this was a human body, more or less, and it had human requirements. It screamed for things like food, rest, and bodily comfort.

Tomorrow, she decided, she would figure out how to get some money and go back to that drugstore for some of the ointment the dead nephilim had recommended. She could ignore the feeling of hunger in her belly, but this body had been injured and overtaxed. It required rest to heal, so she couldn't put off the need to sleep. When Brynna thought back, today's events didn't seem all that taxing; on the other hand, it wasn't every day that a high-level demon escaped from Lucifer's Kingdom and re-formed herself on earth as a human woman.

She was tired. tired.

Brynna had endured a lot in h.e.l.l, and although a soft bed with silk sheets would have been nice, there was absolutely nothing wrong with the dark niche she found between a Dumpster and the back wall of a d.i.n.ky neighborhood restaurant. She settled herself beneath the dubious cover of a torn, dirty cardboard box and thought wearily about Toby, the dead nephilim. She didn't know if it had been the sight of the horror on the faces of the onlookers outside the drugstore's broken window or the memory of his blood trickling down her sun-warmed cheeks, but as her eyelids fluttered closed, all Brynna could think about was that it was a shame Toby's already short human life had been cut even shorter.

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