Hell Followed with Us(66)

I am going to walk into the Angels’ arms. I am going to repent, twist them around my finger, and then turn the Graces against them like the tide. I will rip salvation from their hands because that is what it means for them to suffer. The good the world needs right now is teeth and claws and a taste for blood.

I am going to shatter them, and I will be the vengeance of God, I will.

And the Watch is going to get me out of it alive. They are the only people I could ever trust to do this.

Acheson, Pennsylvania, will be free. We won’t need the Vanguard. There will be nothing to run from. The city will be ours, and we will survive the summer when we don’t have to hide like mice under the floorboards.

“They’ll hold absolution down by the river,” I say, pointing at the western edge of Nick’s crude map of New Nazareth, right at the edge of their territory. “It’ll probably be the second day because there’s no way they’re risking not locking me down as quickly as they can.” I know how Mom works. I know what she’ll do to me—but I have to suffer it for this to work. “Is there anything you can do with that?”

Nick squints. “I think so. That’s close enough to the road. We’ll position there and get you out as soon as possible.”

I’m going to make this right. I’m going to fix it. The ALC will be safe, and the Angels will never hurt us again.

All I have to do is walk right into the mouth of Hell.





Do not be afraid. Have faith. What is right will be done.

—The Truth by High Reverend Father Ian Clevenger



“You wasted backpack space for a bottle of…” Faith squints. “What is that?”

“It’s Brunello,” Cormac says, as if offended that Faith can’t recognize it on sight. “Classic vintage, 2019.”

“Just say old-ass wine, nerd,” Aisha says. “Let me see it.”

“Absolutely not. This cost four hundred dollars.”

Salvador puts up a hand from where xe’s sprawled on the carpet. “I think we’re in a situation where eating the rich is not only allowed but acceptable, encouraged, and part of a well-rounded diet. Essential vitamins and minerals, you know.”

“We hardly counted as rich,” Cormac says.

“You have a four-hundred-dollar bottle of grape juice. I’m literally going to kill you.”

Cormac wrinkles his nose. “I hate you all. Do you want any or not?”

The lot of us—the Watch, minus Nick—sit in a back corner of the bank in the late afternoon. Sunlight comes in through the high, dusty windows, dappling the carpet in gold and making everything just a little too warm. Our exhaustion seeps into the walls, deadens our eyes as we try to laugh and pretend we aren’t terrified of Angels, starvation, and the summer. Of everything now.

I want to tell them that there’s a plan. That they’re going to be okay, that we all are. I want to wipe the pained looks off their faces, the ones creeping behind their masks even as they act like they’re smiling. The looks of people who are realizing that in a month, we will probably be dead, and there’s not much they can do.

But I need a little more time with them before everything changes.

“I thought you were saving it for a special occasion,” Aisha says.

Cormac stares at the bottle, its beautiful black glass wrapped in gold lettering. “I was. But it almost burned with the rest of my stuff, and wine is shit after it gets too hot.” He pulls out his knife and pops the cork with it. “And, you know, we’re fucked! Might as well get drunk. You guys better thank me.”

He drinks straight from the bottle before grudgingly handing it to Faith, who takes a large swallow to the hooting of Aisha and Salvador. Cormac grumbles that you’re supposed to savor the taste of something like this, even if it isn’t as good as it should be. Aisha makes a show of taking a dainty sip with her pinkie finger up, and Salvador somehow manages to drink without picking xyr head off the floor.

Xe taps the bottle against my leg. “Hey, short stuff. Want some?”

I shake my head. It’d mean taking my mask down, and besides, I’ve never actually had alcohol before. This doesn’t seem like a great time to start. “I’m good.”

Cormac wrinkles his nose. “You sound awful.”

“Seriously,” Aisha says. “Everything okay?”

I try to force a smile, but as soon as it reaches my eyes, I find I’m not faking it at all. They’re my friends. I don’t have to fake it for them.

“I’m fine,” I say. “Just trying not to think about, you know, everything.”

“Don’t I know it,” Aisha says. She takes my hand and turns it over. Thankfully, the blisters from the fire overshadow the growing discoloration of my fingers, and my arms are very hidden. “If you want something to take your mind off it, I’ve been wanting to do someone’s nails for a while. It won’t be too feminine if you don’t want it to be. I just need a test subject.”

“I want my nails done,” Salvador whines.

“The offer’s only open for Benji. He didn’t steal my favorite skirt last summer.” I lean my head against Aisha’s shoulder and shoot Salvador a petty look. Xe pouts. “And he doesn’t like coffee, so he needs something good in his life.”