“I will, as soon as I can. I promise.”
She gave vent to an exasperated sigh. “You’d better text me every half hour, or I’m using your toothbrush to clean the toilet.”
Saying goodbye, I returned to the kitchen where Eric was leaning against the countertop wearing nothing but his boxer briefs. Briefly stunned into incoherence by the sight of his near-naked body, I cleared my throat and managed to ask, “Do you mind if I take a quick shower?”
Sauntering closer, he murmured, “I was hoping we’d spend the morning in bed.”
“You have no idea how badly I want to do that. But I can’t.”
His eyebrows drew together. “You’re not going in to work, are you?” he asked in a perfect echo of Amira. “It’s Saturday. Also, the city is falling apart, in case you hadn’t noticed.”
“I have to.”
“No, you don’t!”
“Eric,” I sighed.
“Please stay here. With me.”
Staring into his eyes, my determination wavered. What was I supposed to do at work, anyhow? What couldanyof us do? If I had to wait for the world to end, I wanted to do it lying next to Eric.
My phone buzzed again in my hand. I knew without looking that it was Ms.Crenshaw. She needed me, and if there was anything that might stop The-One-Who-Hungers, it was somewhere in Dark Enterprises.
“I have to go,” I said quietly.
Disappointment and frustration filled his gaze. Glowering, he rubbed both hands over his face. “Fine. But I’m taking you there myself.”
After a quick shower, Ihopped back onto Eric’s motorbike and we set off toward Midtown. Several cars had been parked across Sixth Avenue and set on fire, forcing us to detour around them. Not long after that we encountered a convoy of armored personnel carriers, crawling slowly through streets scattered with more burnt-out cars. Eric slowed the bike as the hulking vehicles came into view, and almost immediately a voice blared from the closest APC. “The United States Army is enforcing a citywide curfew. Return to your homes. I repeat, a citywide curfew is in place. Return to your homes or be detained.”
Without hesitating, Eric turned onto a side street and we zipped away, followed by more threats of detention. Skirting Washington Square Park, we found it occupied now by what looked like a temporary military encampment, including a vast holding area ringed with barbed wire and filled with what I assumed were detainees,some of them cradling broken limbs, dried blood visible on faces and clothing. New York was dying, and our response was to loot and riot and beat and imprison. The-One-Who-Hungers had spoken of humanity’s endless capacity for evil, and here it was, on full display.
Avoiding two more military convoys as well as a large pack of feral New Yorkers who shouted and threw garbage at us, I guided Eric to a spot just down the block from Dark Enterprises. As I removed my helmet, I could hear something bad happening nearby, an audible swell of unfocused rage punctuated by the occasional crack of gunfire. Dismounting from his motorcycle and onto the sidewalk with absolutely no grace whatsoever, I handed over the helmet. “Thank you for the ride.”
“I’ll come and pick you up whenever you want,” he told me, voice a little muffled by his own helmet.
“Okay. Be careful.”
As he throttled his bike and roared off, I approached Dark Enterprises, noting without surprise that the Starbucks across the street was still open. The baristas inside owed their fealty to corporate masters almost as cutthroat as Management, and they would stay at their posts until the very end. Pushing through DE’s revolving doors, I found the lobby filled with dozens of employees, most of them casting apprehensive glances through the tinted glass walls at the city outside. Maybe they’d come in on the weekend to earn a little overtime, but I suspected the real reason was our building’s defenses.
When I got to the thirteenth floor, I found it busier than I’d ever seen it. Middle management was everywhere, their robes whispering along the dimly lit hallways while more screams than usual echoed in the near distance. Excited interns scuttled around, asking people if they needed anything, maybe a coffee or a breakfastburrito? It looked like someone had left the door to their holding pen unlocked.
“Harris!”
My stomach plummeted into my shoes at the familiar voice. I turned to find Sunil sauntering toward me, Tamsin at his side. They wore identical little smirks that, on any other day, would have made me extremely nervous. At the moment, though, I had more important things to worry about than these two jerks.
“What do you want?” I demanded irritably as they drew closer. “You shouldn’t be up here, especially on a Saturday. This floor is for top executives and their assistants.”
Tamsin’s smirk widened. “The entire board is here for an emergency meeting. Hadn’t you heard?”
“He’s probably been preoccupied trying to clean up his mess.” Sunil gave me a look of exaggerated concern. “How’re you holding up, buddy? Are you okay?”
I looked from one to the other. “What mess? What are you talking about?”
“Oh, just a little something we found in your desk.” Sunil produced a pamphlet from his pocket and held it up so I could read the title: “Summoning Angels.”
My heart lurched unpleasantly behind my ribs.
“We got here early this morning,” Tamsin cooed as she brushed something off my cardigan, “and had a little rummage through your things. Imagine our surprise when we happened across this.”
