physical upgrades, and one overriding mission
for vengeance.
The happy, calming thought I come
up with is donuts. The round, powdered-sugared kind with raspberry jam inside.
Then I remember that I can’t eat donuts anymore; can’t eat any human food.
Stupid, fucking donuts.
I turn around toward the grave.
Both Tarren and Gabe are staring at me. Standing side by side, they look
absolutely nothing alike, even though they’re full brothers. Tarren is tall and
muscled with chocolate brown hair that he keeps trimmed close to his head. Gabe
is average height and has a wiry build. He lets his hair grow out in golden
brown waves that he tames with his lucky baseball cap, an object worn so
continuously that the white has turned a turgid gray.
“Why don’t you go rest in the car,”
Gabe says. “This part is easy. Tarren can do it.”
Tarren picks up the second shovel.
“No,” I say, because I can’t be
weak in front of them anymore. Not if I want my brothers to trust me, to help
me find Grand, to let me kill him. “I’m good. Hunky-dory.” Yes, I actually say
this.
“You sure?” Tarren says. It sounds
more like a challenge than a question. He doesn’t let go of the shovel.
“Yeah, someone needs to keep
watch,” I say. Actually, no one really needs to keep watch. On this silent,
desolate night, I could hear a car coming from a mile away, but I know Tarren
is completely paranoid and thinks we should keep watches at all times. Mostly,
he thinks we should keep a watch over me.
Even though we’ve come to an understanding
and Tarren’s been keeping up his side of the bargain, our truce is uneasy. He
remains wary of me. I remain convinced that he’s just a big dumb oaf with no
sense of humor and no compassion. He’s been through hell, but so have I, and
that’s no excuse for being a dick all the time.
I hold my hand out for the shovel.
Tarren releases his grip, allowing the shovel to fall into my palm. He doesn’t
like to get close to my hands even though I always wear my gloves.
Gabe and I pitch dirt on the
bundle. As I was relegated to the car, I didn’t actually see the kill go down,
but I remember what Madelyn looked like from the research Gabe pulled on her.
She was VP of finance in Harold Krugal’s seed investment company. She had a
long, stern face. I wonder if any of it is left beneath that tarp.
After news of Krugal’s
disappearance, most of the angels in his circle fled. With good reason. We’d
tracked Krugal down through the bread crumb trail of dead bodies left by his
granddaughter, Amber. Turns out, his whole organization was filled with
angels. He gave them up with some persuasion from Gabe. My happy, sarcastic
brother still won’t talk about what specifics that persuasion entailed. This is
probably for the best.
The blue tarp disappears beneath a
hail of heavy, chunky dirt as Gabe and I erase Madelyn. Krugal was similarly
erased, and so was young Amber. I think of the red-headed teenager, her
tear-filled eyes and the wet Strawberry Shortcake pajama shirt she wore the
night we fought and Tarren killed her. I know that Amber was an angel. I know
that she fed on innocent people. I know that we saved lives by taking hers.
The hole is filled. Gabe and I turn
over the top layer of soil, packing the grass back on top. It doesn’t look very
convincing to me, but Gabe seems satisfied.
Just like that, Madelyn Mendoza is
gone. We’d been chasing her for over a week, following the trail of bodies she
left as she fled to this barren place. In fact, Madelyn had just killed a young
couple this morning. The two were engaged.
Madelyn deserved to be erased, just
like Amber. That doesn’t make it easier, at least not for me. I still feel like
I’ve tripped and fallen into a living nightmare.
Chapter 2
“Let’s do termite inspectors,” Gabe
says and stuffs the last bite of roast beef sandwich into his mouth.
Tarren shakes his head. “We had to
throw away your uniform. Too much
for vengeance.
The happy, calming thought I come
up with is donuts. The round, powdered-sugared kind with raspberry jam inside.
Then I remember that I can’t eat donuts anymore; can’t eat any human food.
Stupid, fucking donuts.
I turn around toward the grave.
Both Tarren and Gabe are staring at me. Standing side by side, they look
absolutely nothing alike, even though they’re full brothers. Tarren is tall and
muscled with chocolate brown hair that he keeps trimmed close to his head. Gabe
is average height and has a wiry build. He lets his hair grow out in golden
brown waves that he tames with his lucky baseball cap, an object worn so
continuously that the white has turned a turgid gray.
“Why don’t you go rest in the car,”
Gabe says. “This part is easy. Tarren can do it.”
Tarren picks up the second shovel.
“No,” I say, because I can’t be
weak in front of them anymore. Not if I want my brothers to trust me, to help
me find Grand, to let me kill him. “I’m good. Hunky-dory.” Yes, I actually say
this.
“You sure?” Tarren says. It sounds
more like a challenge than a question. He doesn’t let go of the shovel.
“Yeah, someone needs to keep
watch,” I say. Actually, no one really needs to keep watch. On this silent,
desolate night, I could hear a car coming from a mile away, but I know Tarren
is completely paranoid and thinks we should keep watches at all times. Mostly,
he thinks we should keep a watch over me.
Even though we’ve come to an understanding
and Tarren’s been keeping up his side of the bargain, our truce is uneasy. He
remains wary of me. I remain convinced that he’s just a big dumb oaf with no
sense of humor and no compassion. He’s been through hell, but so have I, and
that’s no excuse for being a dick all the time.
I hold my hand out for the shovel.
Tarren releases his grip, allowing the shovel to fall into my palm. He doesn’t
like to get close to my hands even though I always wear my gloves.
Gabe and I pitch dirt on the
bundle. As I was relegated to the car, I didn’t actually see the kill go down,
but I remember what Madelyn looked like from the research Gabe pulled on her.
She was VP of finance in Harold Krugal’s seed investment company. She had a
long, stern face. I wonder if any of it is left beneath that tarp.
After news of Krugal’s
disappearance, most of the angels in his circle fled. With good reason. We’d
tracked Krugal down through the bread crumb trail of dead bodies left by his
granddaughter, Amber. Turns out, his whole organization was filled with
angels. He gave them up with some persuasion from Gabe. My happy, sarcastic
brother still won’t talk about what specifics that persuasion entailed. This is
probably for the best.
The blue tarp disappears beneath a
hail of heavy, chunky dirt as Gabe and I erase Madelyn. Krugal was similarly
erased, and so was young Amber. I think of the red-headed teenager, her
tear-filled eyes and the wet Strawberry Shortcake pajama shirt she wore the
night we fought and Tarren killed her. I know that Amber was an angel. I know
that she fed on innocent people. I know that we saved lives by taking hers.
The hole is filled. Gabe and I turn
over the top layer of soil, packing the grass back on top. It doesn’t look very
convincing to me, but Gabe seems satisfied.
Just like that, Madelyn Mendoza is
gone. We’d been chasing her for over a week, following the trail of bodies she
left as she fled to this barren place. In fact, Madelyn had just killed a young
couple this morning. The two were engaged.
Madelyn deserved to be erased, just
like Amber. That doesn’t make it easier, at least not for me. I still feel like
I’ve tripped and fallen into a living nightmare.
Chapter 2
“Let’s do termite inspectors,” Gabe
says and stuffs the last bite of roast beef sandwich into his mouth.
Tarren shakes his head. “We had to
throw away your uniform. Too much
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