“Who is it?” I said, still trying to crane around and see over Nathaniel’s shoulder at the creatures chasing us.

“Bryson,” Nathaniel said. “And at least two other Agents with weapons.”

“Bryson,” I repeated. How had he found me? Was he chasing me at Sokolov’s request or for his own reasons?

The super Agent hated me, and with good reason. I’d captured him spying on my property and Nathaniel had tortured him at my behest. But why was Bryson chasing after me and trying to kill me now? Didn’t the Agency care that the city was under siege?

Nathaniel spun in the air, blasted nightfire at the Agents, then turned back to fly away from them. I heard one of the Agents cry out. I really wished I had my wings back. I was useless like this.

Nathaniel dipped and swerved, careening around buildings and into alleys in an attempt to shake off the Agents. But the staccato rhythm of gunfire chased us as we headed south. All I could see from my position was Nathaniel’s strained face. I kept my grip tight and tried not to distract him while he was trying to save our lives.

And then the unbelievable, the unthinkable, happened. I couldn’t see Bryson and his cohorts behind us. I was concentrating too hard on keeping a close grip on Nathaniel. But the sound of the gunfire changed, and I’ve seen enough movies to know what an automatic weapon sounds like.

Nathaniel cried out in pain, a sound I’d never heard from him before. I glimpsed Bryson’s malicious, triumphant face. Then I heard the horrible sound of tearing flesh, felt the hot stickiness of Nathaniel’s blood on my hands.

It happened so fast that I hardly knew what was occurring until we were falling out of the sky. The shock of it caused my grip to loosen and then I was alone, in the air.

“Madeline!” Nathaniel cried. His hands reached for me, missed. I glimpsed the terror on his face as I plummeted toward the earth.

This was how it was going to end. I was going to be smashed on the ground like a bug. Nathaniel fell toward me, spinning this way and that, a gruesome rain of scarlet spraying from his body. I saw his left wing flap as he tried to right himself, saw him reach for me.

Our fingertips brushed together, slipped apart. Then he grabbed my wrist, his face strained, the muscles of his neck bulging with effort as he struggled to halt our descent.

That was when I noticed his right wing hung at an unnatural angle, and that it wasn’t moving.

Nathaniel managed to slow us down enough that our brains wouldn’t splatter all over the sidewalk, but we were still going to hit the ground with more force than the human body could take.

Inside my belly, a tiny pair of wings fluttered in distress.

Nathaniel jerked my hand, grabbed my waist with his arm and managed to turn over in midair. We were locked together like a pair of lovers, lying prone as we fell. Nathaniel’s face was grim.

A second later we crashed to the ground. Nathaniel’s body cradled me, protected me from the worst of it, but I still felt the impact reverberate in my skull. I saw stars for a moment. When my vision cleared, Nathaniel’s eyes were closed. He was paler than death.

I touched his cheek. “Nathaniel?”

He opened his eyes, and they were full of pain. His voice rasped out, “I need you to move off me, very slowly.”

I slid carefully to one side. I could tell that Nathaniel was trying not to cry out again. In the process of moving I noticed a twinge in my shoulder. I sat up on the concrete and put my fingers to the hole in my coat. They came away bloody.

“Bryson hit you,” Nathaniel said. He watched me from his position on the ground. He hadn’t moved a centimeter since we landed.

“I think the bullet just skimmed me. I didn’t feel it,” I said, watching Nathaniel in growing dread. “Nathaniel, did you break your back?”

“Yes,” he said, and he sounded so strained. “I am attempting to mend it. But my powers are quite depleted at the moment, as, I imagine, are yours.”

It seemed like it had happened hours before, not minutes. The mention of the protective spell we’d put over the hospital—and what had come after—made me blush.

“Nathaniel,” I began, but he shook his head at me.

“If you have any magic to give now, you must use it to get away,” he said. “I do not know what became of the Agents or why they halted their pursuit. They may return to complete the task they have begun. But more important, there are vampires are approaching.”

“How do you know?” I asked, glancing around.

We were on the sidewalk in front of McCormick Place, next to the traffic circle and between the south and west wings of the complex. It looked like a ghost town. There was no traffic on King Drive—no taxis, no buses, no bikes. Nobody roamed through the pedestrian bridge that connected the two buildings. Everywhere was the detritus of people abandoning the area in haste. It was like we were the last two souls on the planet.

“I can hear them,” Nathaniel said. He’d closed his eyes again. “Madeline, you must go.”

“And leave you here to die?” I said.

“I will have fulfilled my pact with Lord Lucifer. I have protected you from harm, and now I can die with honor.”

“Are you out of your effing mind?” I said, grabbing his hand. “I am not going to leave you here.”

I tried pushing the healing spell into him, but my magic flickered and sputtered instead of pouring forth in a steady stream.

“Do not waste your energy on me,” Nathaniel said. “You must go. You must protect your child.”