Seraph and my feet know the path to Reformation Faith Evangelical Church better than I do. A flock of birds sits on the power lines, flapping their wings at one another as they fight for space like crows on the culling grounds. The Angels thought they could take the ALC from me. That without the ALC, I would have nowhere else to run except back to Theo. I’ll give them what they want. I will come back to him, and I will make them regret it.

My jaw aches and cramps, the muscles moving on their own. My next breath comes out in a snarl. Inhuman and so deep in my chest, deeper than I’ve ever felt anything. I pass the bodega and the cat sits in the window, tail flicking anxiously. Something cracks in my gum line, and I pull out an old tooth. There are new teeth there, uneven in my mouth like shattered glass.

I will hunt the Angels who did this. The ALC will be safe.

Everything hurts. I want to take handfuls of my face and pull it off. I’m halfway to Reformation, I think. I only stopped once. When the pain got too bad. When I couldn’t keep my eyes open anymore. I pressed my head against a wall to push back whatever was breaking it apart from the inside and screamed. I thought my skull was going to split, and so much more rotten shit came up, and now there’s something else sitting heavy in my mouth. A tongue like something alive anchored in my throat, threatening to fill me up, falling out in a rope of flesh. I have so many teeth. My mouth opens all the way to my ears. It hurts.

I look like the billions of dead with the Flood tearing them to pieces. I look like the people who didn’t survive. I look the way I should, and Seraph isn’t even done with me yet. Nick and Erin will have to tell everybody when I get back, but that’s fine. That’s fine, because after I do this, they’ll understand. They’ll forgive me. It’ll be okay. I can fix this.

On the wind, I hear prayer.

I don’t feel the stab of panic in my chest like I should. Like I used to. Instead I stop, lifting my head to the breeze, letting it wash over me.

“Lord, we praise You and thank You this glorious night!”

Death squads usually don’t work in the dark. They’ve been on the hunt; they’ve been chasing their prey for hours. They’re high on the kill and lost in their purpose.