c.l. polk

But every day, I woke up knowing that January 13, 1941, was my last day on Earth. I lived ten years waiting for that handsome devil who gave me exactly what I deserved. But here was this doll-faced femme, my best client, smiling as she told me it was Christmas all over again.

My soul. My soul. The words thumped along with the rhythm of my steps and the excited throb of my heart. We would go out west together, Edith and I. We could live a real life together. We could get old. I had never let myself dream about this.

But now I could reach out and treasure what everyone took for granted—a future. A future with Edith, and I was going to blubber right there on the street if I let myself feel what pulsed deep in the hollow of my throat. I put my head down and smiled, hugging myself. My soul. My soul. And a thousand dollars, plus expenses.

I’d never ever seen that glitch before Edith. But there was Delaney with the same shine. Why?

I washed the print. I hung it up. I’d have to hide it before Edith came back, so I moved a stool and plugged in a fan to help speed it up. The dodged photo fluttered in the breeze, but I caught the bottom edge and stared at it, the augury forgotten.

I had taken the shots with the aim of recording the crime scene to examine later, and then the moon came and I was so busy being interrupted that I hadn’t seen it. But I saw it now.

On the ground at the very edge of the frame were footprints, tracking blood away from the ritual circle—and just a few feet up, on the bricks that made the corner of the butcher shop, a smear that could have come from a hand.

The White City Vampire had left a trail.

The pendulum had barely started swinging before the shadow of a man fell on the wall. I had my hand behind my back so fast one would think I was hiding a cookie. My startled fright did a loop-de-loop as Ted walked into a pool of light.

I let out a sigh and braced myself. Get away from here, he would say. Get away from me, you damned thing. He might even turn me in, and that would be a real wrinkle. But he kept walking, closer and faster until he caught me in his arms and swept me right off my feet, squeezing so tight, my heart knocked against my ribs.

Haraniel froze, turning to stare out the windows. Birds gathered on the sills, dodging and fluttering in a dark-feathered mass. Edith’s body sighed, and Haraniel pressed their lips together. “Get your coat. And your camera. There’s been another murder.”

“The White City Vampire is an angel, Elena. And that angel needs to be stopped.”

“What—who is the angel summoning?”

“The most powerful of us,” Haraniel said. “If anyone can open the way to Heaven, it’s the archangel Michael. The square on the wall and on the last victim’s chest was their name.”

Someone had. A shadow sat before my desk, dark and tall, with a wide-brimmed hat pulled low. The shadow leaned on his elbow, fingers tapping on the arm of his chair.

I lowered the gun. I let out a sigh, and when I hit the light switch, I squinted at my brother, Ted.

“That’s what you’re going to do with your bargain? You’re going to save your warlock sister?”

“I know the Perfect said she was the only vessel strong enough. But you can’t use her for the last manifestation.”

My throat went dry. An angel needed a body descended from the Nephilim. And they couldn’t grab any old psychic to do the job. They needed someone with more power.

The White City Vampire had skipped me as a victim because they wanted my body for a host.

And Ted—my sweet, idiot brother Ted—had waltzed right into my stronghold and taken down all my wards. He had wanted to keep me safe, but instead he’d cracked open Fort Knox for them, thinking he could handle everything himself.

“You’re right,” Delaney said. “We can’t use her for the last manifestation. She’s tainted. She would never make a worthy vessel for the first sword of the army of God.”

In the fluorescent light from the hall, Delaney’s eyes shone like silver mirrors. Like they’d shone in the photo I’d snapped of him and Ted in the alley. Like all those failed pictures of Edith.

Oh, no.

Except Delaney dodged Edith. He dove for Ted and seized his wrist.

“It’s you, Magus Brandt. You’re the worthy one,” he said, and light flared around them both an instant before Delaney and my brother vanished.