Kasdeya scrambled up a ladder in the subway to the street above and merged with the crowd. She couldn’t be captured. Not yet. She had to live long enough to get revenge on Abaddon. A quick look behind her showed Marshal in swift pursuit. Before she’d been reverted to human form, before her injuries, she could have left the man far behind her. No longer. Now she was nothing more than a mere mortal, with all the setbacks that came with it.
The ache in her ribs sent sharp pain through her chest with each breath. Her red leather jacket, torn at the shoulder, felt heavier than before. The weight of her human limitations pressed down like chains she’d never worn.
“Just listen to me.” Marshal raced after her.
“Help me.” Kasdeya gripped the arm of a large man next to her. “Stop him. He’ll hurt me.”
While the stranger blocked Marshal’s path, Kasdeya ducked into a corner café and out the back door. With a quick glance both ways, she chose right and sprinted down the alley, one arm pressed to her battered ribcage. The smell of garbage and decay filled her nostrils—scents she’d never noticed when her demonic senses had been sharp enough to filter them out.
Coming back onto the busy New York street, she continued her flight. Pedestrians moved around her like water around a stone, their faces blank and unseeing. The darkness that had begun to creep over the city made everyone hurry toward shelter. With no money and no food, her options were few. A women’s shelter a few blocks over seemed her best bet. That or a church. She was sure God wouldn’t let her step one toe inside His house. Women’s shelter it was.
The building stood modest and worn, its brick facade marked with years of weather and neglect. She pushed through the double doors and leaned against the wall, struggling to catch her breath against the pain in her side. The lobby smelled of industrial cleaner and hope—an odd combination that made her stomach turn.
A middle-aged woman rushed to help Kasdeya into a chair. Her name tag read “Doris” in cheerful blue letters.
“Oh, dear.” She snapped her fingers at a younger woman. “Get the doctor.” She turned back to Kasdeya. “Who hurt you, honey? Do you want me to call the police? What’s your name?”
Too many questions. The concern in the woman’s voice caught Kasdeya off guard. When had anyone shown her genuine care? “No police, thank you. The man who…mugged me is long gone. My name is Kassy.”
The lie came with ease, though something in her chest tightened at the deception. These people wanted to help her, and she was deceiving them from the first moment.
“Come on, let’s get you taken care of, fed, and cleaned up.” Doris helped Kasdeya to a back room and handed her a towel. “Shower is right through there. Just wrap the towel around you so the doctor can get a good look at your injuries. I’ll be right here if you need me. Are you hungry?”
Kasdeya nodded on her way to the shower. Her stomach had been empty for hours, another human weakness she’d forgotten about. She stripped down and placed her red leather jacket and pants on a nearby stool. They’d need cleaning, but would have to go to a dry cleaner. She could change into something else, but the leather made her feel fierce, and she’d worn it for a long time. So long, it had become like a second skin to her.
In the mirror above the sink, her reflection startled her. Bruises colored her pale skin in shades of purple and yellow. Her dark hair hung in tangled strands around her face. She looked broken, defeated. Nothing like the powerful being she’d once been.
Closing her eyes, she stepped under the hot spray of the shower and let the water wash away the grime from the tunnels and ease some of the aching from her shoulders. The heat felt good against her human skin, another sensation she’d forgotten about. Tears rolled down her cheeks, disappearing down the drain with the water. If she’d killed the child as ordered, she’d still be Abaddon’s right hand and powerful. Her heart wasn’t as dark as people believed after all.
The memory of little Hanna’s face haunted her. Those innocent eyes, that trusting smile. She’d raised her blade, felt the power coursing through her, and then…stopped. Something inside her had refused to complete the task. That refusal had cost her everything. Her immortal form, her strength, and her place in Abaddon’s army.
After her shower, a different woman waited in the next room. She wore scrubs and carried a medical bag.
“I’m Doctor Clark. Sit on this cot and let me take a look at you. Doris brought you a dress.”
Kasdeya eyed the simple blue cotton dress with distaste. “I’d like to wear the red.” She sat, turning a suspicious gaze on the doctor. Learning to trust humans again would take time, if she could manage it at all.
“Let’s at least get it cleaned, shall we?” The doctor listened to her heart, her lungs, then had her lie back so she could press her ribcage with gentle fingers. “I suspect you have some fractures but no hard breaks. That is good. I’ll wrap you up and tend to your scrapes. Would you like to tell me what happened?”
The question hung in the air. How could she explain that she’d been cast out from the forces of darkness for refusing to murder a child? That she’d once commanded legions of demons and now couldn’t even defend herself against a single human detective?
“I betrayed a powerful man.”
The doctor made a disgusted sound in her throat. “That will get you beat up every time. My advice to you is to stay away from him.”
Kasdeya nodded, intending to do anything but stay away. Once she found a way to destroy the leader of the dead, she’d make sure he joined those who followed him into hell. The thought brought her some comfort, though she had no idea how she’d accomplish such a task in her current state.
When the doctor left, giving her pills for the pain, Kasdeya put on the simple red and yellow sundress. The fabric felt strange against her skin—soft where leather had been hard, loose where her usual clothes had been fitted. She caught her reflection again and almost didn’t recognize herself. She looked…normal. Human. Vulnerable.
She stretched out on the narrow cot and closed her eyes. Sleep came easier than expected, bringing dreams of fire and brimstone, of power and betrayal, of a small child’s grateful smile.