Traces of Sulfur Read online

  Muffled grunts and the scrape of shoes against concrete floated through the air, and I shook my head, sure I was imagining things. But the shouting and cursing punctuating the scuffling noises convinced me otherwise, and I pushed myself to my feet. Ignoring the wave of nausea warning me to take it slow, I snuck toward the corner behind which the thief had disappeared.

  Two figures tussled on the street, and my first thought was that maybe somehow I could grab my bag while the thief was distracted. But a simple lurch forward was enough to prove my collision with the brick wall still had me rattled.

  The newcomer—a guy with inky hair wearing a black guard uniform—moved so fast it was hard to follow each motion. In what seemed like a flash, he had the thief pinned to the ground and my bag lay several feet away.

  Afraid the attacker might claim my purse as a reward for a job well done, I stumbled forward and grabbed a hold of the strap. Yanking it up onto my shoulder, I spun on my heel and started back where I came from.

  But I didn’t make it more than a few steps before a voice called, “I assume that bag is yours?”

  I froze and turned back toward the guy, who slid flexible cuffs around the thief’s wrists before pulling her to her feet. Because it was clear now the purse-snatcher was a girl who probably wasn’t older than fourteen.

  “Yeah, it’s mine.” I tried to make my voice sound confident without being challenging. The last thing I needed was this guy to demand to see some identification.

  He stared at me expectantly with his deep brown eyes. The intensity of his gaze made heat rise to my cheeks. I recognized him. He was the guard on the main parade route who his fellow officers were considering sending to the Cameron Heights side of the road if they called for backup. Kouri.

  “What?” I asked after an awkwardly lengthy pause. I glanced down at my shirt to make sure my clothes hadn’t lifted or bunched when the girl threw me against the wall.

  Kouri lifted a shoulder. “Nothing. But in a situation like this, most people would offer a thank you.”

  I only half heard his words as I continued checking myself for anything out of place. I gently touched the throbbing spot on the back of my head only to pull my hand away quickly, hissing.

  “What’s wrong?” Kouri closed the distance between us, dragging the thief behind him. Before I could stop him, he leaned over my shoulder to examine the spot for himself. My head swam again, but not because of the pain. My self-appointed savior smelled insanely good—sharp like citrus and calming like earth. And something about his nearness made my body tingle and heart hammer against my chest.

  It’s because you’re carrying contraband in your purse, the logical part of my brain chided. He‘s too close. What if he figures out what you’ve got in there?

  But the guard didn’t seem at all interested in the contents of the bag he liberated from the thief. “That’s a nasty hit. You might want to visit a hospital to make sure you don’t have a concussion.” He pulled at the cuffs, tugging the thief forward. “As soon as backup gets here to take care of her, I could take you there.” The corner of his mouth quirked upward, and my stomach swooped in response.

  I took a step backward. “Um, no. That’s not necessary. My—um—aunt is a nurse.” The lie tumbled clumsily out of my mouth, but if he detected the deception, his face didn’t show it. Maybe that was because the best lies came from a seed of truth. While Liza didn’t have any formal medical training, she knew the names and uses of every medication imaginable, and she could patch up just about any injury.

  The girl twisted against her bindings. “She has her bag back. You can let me go.”

  I expected Kouri to snort or sneer at his prisoner; instead, he turned to study her face for what appeared to be the first time. Now that I was closer to him, I could tell my earlier assessment had been spot on. He was young, and I wondered if his black uniform was a sign he wasn’t a full member of the Guard.

  “Choices have consequences,” he said firmly. “You chose to steal. Just because you didn’t get away with it doesn’t give you a free pass.”

  The response was far more measured than I’d ever heard from a guardsman, but Kouri’s words barely registered. All I could see was the girl’s face. Terror drained the color from her already pale complexion, and a shadow fell over her eyes.

  “Please,” she pleaded. “It’ll be my last mark, and I can’t…” Her voice broke.

  A shiver shot down my spine. I’d overheard whispers about what awaited third time offenders. If societal rehabilitation didn’t work after the second attempt, the Guard stashed people caught on the wrong side of the law a third time in dungeon-like prisons—colloquially referred to as “the pit”—where food was scarce and daylight scarcer. The few people I’d seen return from their time locked up were mere shells of their former selves. I shuddered for what a sentence like that would mean for such a young girl.

  Kouri pursed his lips, his brow furrowing. “You’re pretty young to be on your last mark already.”

  “You don’t understand,” the girl began.

  “Maybe this will be good,” Kouri continued, although his tone suggested she wasn’t the one he was trying to convince. “Maybe you’ll have some time to think about the choices you’ve made and—”

  The change came in an instant. The girl twisted like a serpent, taking Kouri off guard. She slipped from his grip and rammed her shoulder into his chest, sending him stumbling backward. His arms shot out as he went, and he swept me out of harm’s way. As he regained his footing, his hand strayed to the stunner strapped to his belt.

  “Stay behind me,” he murmured over his shoulder, keeping his eyes forward. “She’s a demon,” he continued, more to himself than me. “She’s a demon.”

  His pronouncement was unnecessary. The girl snarled, but it wasn’t her expression that transformed her face. Her eyes were wholly black as she glared at Kouri. She strained against the flexible cuffs for a few moments before they snapped, leaving her arms free.

  “I don’t want to hurt you,” Kouri said, holding one hand out in front of him, even as the other remained on his weapon.

  “You might not want to hurt me, but that’s exactly what you’ll do.” Her eyes flickered from wholly black back to their natural blue and back again. The fear and rage within her were vying for dominance. I’d never seen the struggle play out in real time, but I’d heard stories about demons overcome with rage whose eyes darkened as they gave in to their basest desires. If one spent too long indulging that anger, their skin would begin to turn red and scaly and horns would grow out of their head. “You keep talking about my choices like you have any idea what my life is like. And I’m sick of people like you trying to tell people like me what’s best for us.”

  For the first time, I wondered why this girl had attempted to take my purse. The hooded sweatshirt I thought I had committed to memory looked different now that she wasn’t in constant motion. A jagged rip ran along the bottom of the large front pocket, and the cuffs around her wrist were frayed. This was probably the only sweatshirt she owned. Couple that with the hollowness of her cheeks, and it was more than likely she was homeless or nearly so. This whole time I was so focused on what she had stolen I hadn’t given a single thought as to why.

  “Let her go.”

  Kouri spun to face me, gaping. “What?”

  “Let her go,” I repeated, speaking each word slowly and clearly. “I’m not going to press charges or whatever. It was all a misunderstanding.” I stuck my hand into my bag as I spoke, feeling through the pens and receipts for the ration bars I had thrown in as a last-minute touch.

  Kouri shook his head. “If I let her go, what’s stopping her from going right back out there and trying to snatch another purse?”

  “Besides the fact that you’re going to be watching her like a hawk?” I held his gaze, daring him to disagree with my assessment.

  I expected him to look away—or at the very least to look mildly embarrassed—but he didn’t back down. Inste
ad, his dark brown eyes hardened and his probing look intensified as if he were trying to read my thoughts. The moment seemed to stretch out and crystallize in the space between us—something solid, but fragile, and ready to shatter at the slightest provocation.

  Without breaking eye contact, he twisted his chin toward the girl. “You’re free to go.” He didn’t look at her, and I couldn’t help wondering if it was to make her feel more comfortable or whether the benefit was all his.

  But the girl didn’t look at him at all. Instead, her eyes remained glued to me.

  “Here,” I said, holding out my meager offering of ration bars.

  Her eyes widened, but she hesitated only a moment before relieving me of the items. Even if she split each bar in half, what I gave her could provide her enough calories for two whole weeks. She might even put on some weight.

  At times I’d lamented how little I had. I’d resented having to gulp down a ration bar—or worse, the meals of rehydrated protein paste smeared onto softened hardtack. I’d turned my nose up at my aunt’s sprouted seed cakes more than once. But even when things were at their worst, at least it had never occurred to me to steal from someone else.

  Rage and resentment bubbled up in me so fast it took my breath away. My attention returned to the angel, who stood aloof, still not looking at the scene unfolding in front of him. I supposed it shouldn’t surprise me. That was the angelic way, after all—paying attention to nothing but their own interests.

  That ended today.

  “I’m sorry it’s not more,” I said to the girl.

  “I’m sorry I…” She gulped, swiping at her eyes—which were blue once more—with the back of her hand. “I’m just so sorry.”

  I hazarded a glance at Kouri, who still stood silently apart from the scene. He stared resolutely at the ground in front of him as if hoping the two of us would disappear. Or maybe as far as he was concerned we already had.

  As if feeling the weight of my gaze on him, he finally straightened and lifted his head. “I need to get back to my position.”

  And then, without so much as a goodbye—let alone an attempted apology—he spun on his heel and headed back toward Haynes.

  As soon as he disappeared around the corner, the girl pocketed the food. “I can’t thank you enough. And, again, I’m really sorry for trying to steal your bag.”

  I nodded, but her sincere apology pierced my heart. It wasn’t her fault she was put in a position to steal. The fault ultimately lay with the people who made the laws that kept demons from bettering themselves. The angelic leadership was like a dragon hoarding every ounce of wealth, security, and success for itself.

  With a final farewell to the girl, I started back up West Charter, walking as quickly as I dared. I could only hope helping this one girl hadn’t cost me the chance to save a life.

  Chapter Three

  The crumbling brick façade of the old library looked even more desolate than usual as I tread toward it. Night was falling, casting long shadows like jagged teeth over the building. I stole into the darkness, melding with it until the casual onlooker would have trouble determining where the shadows ended and I began.

  Just the way Marco taught me.

  And although my first mission had been a success, a sense of foreboding pressed down on me as I neared the library.

  Ignoring the flaking paint on the red letters warning me to KEEP OUT, I toed open the building’s front door—a heavy wooden slab that appeared boarded closed to the untrained eye. But it swung open easily at my command, and I ducked under the thick plank that might have served as a barricade. The spring mechanism that I designed forced the door to begin closing almost before I was fully over the threshold, but I had enough practice coming and going to avoid getting my fingers or toes pinched.

  The library itself looked the same as always. Although most of the heavy wooden shelves were still upright, even after years of disuse, any books that remained littered the floor in sad mountains. The occasional loose leaf of paper littered the well-worn path from the front door to the information desk in the center of the space.

  Sometimes I liked to spend time up here, amid the musty scent of rotting books and the myriad of dust motes that glittered in the light shafts cutting through the gloom+. There was something peaceful about being surrounded by the voices of individuals who had lived very different lives than I had. I knew if I ever needed company, I had only to pick up one of the moldering books and read a few pages to remind me I wasn’t alone—but also that there were other worlds out there beyond the one I found myself within.

  I ducked behind the information desk and pushed aside the heavy-looking shelf labeled RETURNS. Despite its size, it slid easily on greased treads to reveal a set of metal stairs leading down into darkness.

  Even though I had walked down the flight countless times, the back of my throat still went dry at the illusion of endless blackness beyond. But the lingering high of my success overrode my usual trepidation. I stepped onto the first stairs and turned to slide the bookcase back into place. For a seemingly interminable moment, blackness engulfed me. My stomach swooped, and I pressed each of my hands against the walls on either side of me, willing myself not to pitch forward as I always feared I would. I closed my eyes. While it made no difference in a darkness so complete, it always made me feel better.

  Hold on, I told myself. Just a little longer.

  The high-pitched whine of a fluorescent light stuttering to life was the first sign that it would soon be safe to open my eyes. I counted to ten, and by the time my lids parted, the staircase was filled with a sickly yellow glow.

  Well, maybe filled was generous—but at least there was enough light to see by. Keeping one hand against the cool, rough concrete wall, I treaded down the stairs.

  The sounds of the bunker reached me before I made it to the bottom of the flight. Outside of the usual hum of lights and the air circulation system, the familiar cadence of Liza’s voice pricked my ears. My heart rate kicked up a notch. Were there associates in the bunker? They came when called—when we needed goods procured or moved. Usually, arriving home to find the main room stuffed with bodies put me on edge, but today I welcomed the idea. Despite the mugger and the angelic guardsman, I’d made it to the rendezvous point in time and handed off the medicine. It wouldn’t be the worst thing if people knew that.

  But when I made it to the bottom of the stairs, my hope of accolades vanished. Liza and Derek glanced at me from their spots around the small, round table where we usually ate our meals. Neither of them looked surprised by my arrival due to the security feed that activated when the tunnel lights turned on. Even now, the flat monitor hanging on the wall some five feet behind Liza showed a black-and-white version of the stairs I just descended.

  Liza rested her elbows on the table and folded her hands beneath her chin. Her black fingernails glinted in the fluorescent light. “I hear you were late.”

  I winced, even though Liza’s words were more matter-of-fact than accusatory. Derek offered a sympathetic half smile, which gave me the strength to lift my chin. “I still made the drop, didn’t I?”

  “Winston reached out after you parted ways,” Liza pressed. “A Guard patrol was on its way. If you were there two minutes later, they would have caught you.”

  “But they didn’t,” Derek said. “She made it.”

  Sighing, I sat in my usual chair. “I would’ve been on time if some girl didn’t purse-snatch me when I was nearly there.”

  Liza’s eyes widened. “Someone grabbed your bag?”

  I nodded, swinging the purse off my shoulder and onto the table. “I said that bringing a shoulder bag was risky given how many people would be out today, but somebody wouldn’t let me used the backpack with the hidden compartment.”

  Derek crossed his arms over his chest. “I needed to keep the pack in case we got a pickup call. How would I look carrying that purse?”

  I snorted. “I think it suits you.”

  He wrinkled his nose
and stuck out his tongue, eliciting a giggle from me. In the two years I’d known Derek, he hadn’t changed much. He still kept his dark blond hair short on the sides and long on top—a look that went out of fashion before we even met. I was confident the ratty tee-shirt he wore now—dark blue with a sunglasses-wearing cartoon hedgehog—was one of the few belongings he’d brought with him when he moved in. He could be annoying and goofy and charming, and I’d spent the better part of two years figuring out just how I felt about him. We tried our hand at being a couple in the months after his arrival, and even though the relationship didn’t stick, every once in a while I wondered if we should try again.

  Liza sighed, tipping her head. Her wavy dark brown hair shifted against the smooth black horns that curved out of the top of her head. “Someone grabbed your purse. That’s… less than ideal. But at least you were able to chase them down and get it back.” She paused, studying my face. “You did get it back on your own, didn’t you?”

  “Some guard got in the way.” I crossed my arms over my chest. “I had it under control, but he just had to be the hero. But it’s not like he found the package, so what does it matter?”

  Derek’s brow creased. “What happened to the thief?”

  Something like pride surged in my chest, and I sat a little straighter. “I made him let her go.”

  Liza raised an eyebrow. “You made him? Now, I’ve got some people who can talk their way out of sticky situations, but most aren’t usually so lucky.”

  I bristled at the doubt in her tone. “Maybe I didn’t make him, but I convinced him. She was hungry. She was probably looking for some money to buy food. So I gave her the ration bars I shoved in the bag for cover.”

  “All of them?” Derek asked. “That was more than two weeks’ worth of food.”

  My gaze dropped to the floor. Although our little household wasn’t as bad off as that girl had been, it didn’t mean that we were in a position to take our next meal for granted. When I took the ration bars from the emergency pantry, I’d had every intention to replace them. But looking back now, I don’t know if I could have made a different decision.