Dead Harvest

  'I made my choice a long time ago. Save your talk of redemption for someone who deserves it.'

  His eyes danced with mischievous cheer. 'Like, perhaps, the MacNeil girl?'

  'So that's what this is about.'

  'Again you persist in this fruitless quest for understanding.'

  'Yeah,' I said, 'I'm funny that way.' Then my brain played a little connect-the-dots and I flashed the angel a rueful smile. 'The guys in the Crown Vic this morning – they were your boys, weren't they?'

  'An unfortunate misunderstanding,' the angel replied. 'I was laboring under the misapprehension that you were willingly subverting the ancient balance, and I reacted accordingly. Now I understand that your intentions are pure, and that you've simply been misled.'

  'So what – you're here to scare me straight?'

  'I'm not here to scare anybody, Collector. I'm simply here to remind you that this detente of ours has lasted for millennia, and it has done so because the balance has always been carefully maintained – by those like me, as well as those like you. I would be loathe to see anything disrupt that balance – the results would be catastrophic.'

  'And if the girl is innocent?'

  'Not a soul among us is innocent,' he replied, 'but of course that is not what you mean. You might be surprised to know your concerns have not fallen on deaf ears. I've looked into the matter myself, and I've been assured that she is anything but. To put it plainly, she's been deceiving you.'

  'I don't accept that.'

  'Whether you accept it or not is immaterial. The girl's collection is inevitable. If you truly care for her, the best thing you could do is collect her yourself. If you fail, they'll send another, and I doubt that Collector will share in your compunctions. You could spare her a world of pain with a simple act of mercy – and in the process, spare this world a war the likes of which it's never seen.'

  The angel gestured toward the cell door. It slid open as if of its own accord.

  'So you're just going to let me go?' I asked.

  'Yes.'

  'And what about the cops? They're going to wonder where the hell I went.'

  'I assure you, they'll remember nothing of this. It's best that way, don't you think?'

  'You have to know I still mean not to take her.'

  'I have faith that when the time comes, you'll do what's right.'

  What's right – sure. I untied my shirtsleeve from the bed frame and slipped on the shirt. The angel conjured a business card from thin air, extending it to me. 'If ever you need assistance,' he said, 'don't hesitate to give me a call.'

  I glanced at the card. It was a white so bright it seemed illuminated from within. On it was no number, no address, just a single embossed word, printed black as moonless night: So'enel.

  'Thanks,' I said, tucking the card into my pocket. Then I shuffled out of the cell block and through the oddly silent precinct house, fetching back my belt and laces from the abandoned guard's desk along the way. Outside, the sidewalk was flush with foot traffic, folks in business suits headed home from work.

  With a glance back to be sure I wasn't followed, I descended the steps of the precinct house, disappearing into the crowd.

11.

Night had settled over the city by the time I made my way to the park. I was relieved for the anonymity the darkness afforded, but I didn't relish the prospect of tracking Kate and Anders down in it. At just a single city block, Chelsea Park wasn't a ton of ground to cover, but when you've got an angry horde of demons on your tail, you don't feel too compelled to stray from the cold comfort of the sodium-vapor lights and into the shadows beyond – missing girl or no.

  Twice I wandered the perimeter of the grounds – up Ninth to Twenty-eighth, then over to Tenth and back down to Twenty-seventh – but Kate was nowhere to be seen. I hopped the low metal fence-rail and cut across the grounds. At this late hour, the park was devoid of patrons, with the exception of the derelicts who took refuge beneath her trees and sought comfort on her benches. As I wandered the footpaths beneath the canopy of leaves, I shivered. Sheltered as it was from the stone and brick and glass of the city, which seemed to radiate the sun's heat for hours into the night, it was colder here – achingly so. I shoved my hands into my pockets and pressed on, hoping against hope that I would turn the corner and find them there, waiting.

  Eventually, my head caught on to what my gut had known all along: Kate and Anders were gone. The thought of Kate wandering the city with just a mental case with a bowie knife to protect her made my stomach lurch. I mean, Anders was a good kid, but what the hell was he gonna do if they came across another Collector, sent to do what I wouldn't? And if she were taken, what then? Apocalypse?

  All of which meant there was no plan B: I had to find them first.

  'Hey, pal, you got a smoke?'

  He was huddled under a tree at the edge of a basketball court. With his matted gray beard and his ratty, timeworn clothes, he nearly disappeared into the gloom.

  I patted my pockets reflexively, but of course I didn't have any. Whatever Flynn here had in his pockets when I snatched him had been confiscated before I ever came to.

  'Sorry,' I replied. 'I wish I did.'

  'How 'bout a little cash, then?'