City of Dust

Chapter Twenty-Five

The tunnel exit is littered with bodies when we reach it—on both ends. I see guns laying on the ground, dropped by the dead soldiers. From the way sickly yellowish smoke curls from the corpses, I can hazard a guess as to who killed them. In the distance, I can still hear Ehtab and the unnamed angel battling it out. The sounds of their swords clashing echo throughout the City of Dust.

High above, a massive dust cloud emerges. Whatever magic Ehtab was using to conceal the truth from the residents has been broken. A hot wind blows down through the city and I jerk up my scarves to protect my face.

The pony mare squeals and bucks, shaking her head as the dust stings her eyes. I've nothing to put over her face. Everything I had was with Winston—or the angel that was trapped in Winston's body.

We bolt through the tunnel and out of the other side, ignoring the sounds of bones snapping as the stallion and pony ride over the corpses. There, the wind is calm and no dust flies around us. The mare calms somewhat, but her neck is caked with mud.

Glaris doesn't stop. He urges us onward, running for at least another mile before he pulls his stallion to a stop. The giant black horse immediately drops his head between his knees as Glaris slides down, carrying a limp Kayleigh.

Leaving the kid on the side of the road, he instructs Egon to watch over her, which of course the enfield does. His sides heave with exertion, jaws agape and panting.

I dismount and take the pony mare by the reins and begin leading her in a slow circle to cool her down. I've already lost one mount, I can't afford to lose another.

Winston.

A sob catches in my throat as I think back on what I saw. An angel. Living in my battle-elk.

Was he always there? Or did he somehow possess Winston accidentally?

It's not like I'll ever know the answer.

Still. A tear slides down my cheek. It's soon followed by another. Before I know it, I'm full-on sobbing, something that I haven't done since before the Turning.

"Are you all right?" Glaris asks softly, slightly out of breath as he continues to walk his horse.

I laugh, but it comes out as a wheeze. "No."

"Did you know that an angel was in ... ?"

"No!" It's so ludicrous, but it does explain a lot. I'd been told that battle-elk had the intelligence of a toddler, but even then, Winston seemed a lot smarter that the rest of his species.

The pony mare whickers and I idly stroke her nose. It's not the same as Winston's muzzle, but it's something and I need what small comfort it brings. But that doesn't mean I won't trade her for a proper horse the minute we get into a town. I need to be up higher; this feels like I'm scooting my butt over the highway. And I definitely don't like being lower than Glaris on his massive stallion.

"So," the demon-hunter says in the silence that follows, "she's a nephilim."

"As I said, half-angel," I say with a shrug, too drained physically and mentally to discuss the finer points.

"I heard you," he replies, tugging down his mask so I can see the stark white scars on his cheeks. "Who knows what else she's capable of?"

Adrenaline surges through me; I drop the mare's reins and lunge at the demon-hunter, grabbing his cowl with trembling fingers. "Don't you dare," I hiss, shoving a shim close to his jugular. "Don't you even think about selling us out!"

Glaris bats my hand away, the skin around his eyes creasing in a wince as he does so. Good, I hope he's bruised all over.

"You're insane, you know that?" he retorts hotly, glaring at me. "Do you think that everyone is out to get you or has an alternative agenda?"