“Excuse me,” I shouted and ran after him.
When I rounded the corner, he was gone, but the street was long. He couldn’t possibly have already walked the entire length. I rushed after him, noting the smell of vomit and piss, my skin prickling with some uneasy awareness. Danger danger, my instincts screamed. Knives out, I kept moving. Thunder cracked. I jumped and yelped. Damn, scared the bejesus out of me. Heart thumping, I walked, wishing my boots didn’t make so much noise.
And maybe they made little noise, but to me, I sounded like a herd of elephants in the neighborhood I would associate with downtown LA, not a place where I’d ever walk alone. This was a really dumb idea. There! The man with the fruit cart.
I ran as fast as I could. “Hey,” I shouted. “Hey!”
I rounded another corner and saw him round one too. I ran faster, shouting after him. The man maintained his pace, walking slowly, pushing the damned fruit stand to or from the market. How was he still ahead of me?
It didn’t matter. I kept running.
Fog rose.
Vanilla in the air.
I ran through the fog, knives gripped tightly, looking out for the Marked on the street, on the houses’ walls, everywhere.
My body and forehead hit something, and I thumped onto my butt. The fog disappeared, and my daddy stood there, one hand extended to help me up. I stared at his face forever.
“Come on, soldier. Up you go.” He wiggled his fingers.
Daddy’s beard was finely groomed. His green eyes still held yellow spots, the same eyes my little brother inherited. I coveted their eye color.
I took his hand and got up, wiping my forehead with a sleeve, a bump already forming on my head.
“You’re running like something’s chasing you.” Daddy bent and came away with a broadsword, then looked up the street. “I smelled them too.” He spat. “Damned people.”
I stared. Was it Lucifer playing tricks on me? I didn’t dare believe it was really my dad. Faith and courage. Michael’s words came to me. And hope. He forgot hope, and this was hope.
Dad gave me a side-eye. “You all right, soldier?”
I nodded.
“You need that cut fixed.”
I nodded again.
From his waistband, he handed me a white rag. “It doesn’t look like much, but it’s clean.”
I wanted him to remember me, but I didn’t want him to remember me.
Daddy smiled. “Try not to run into walls anymore, hm?” He lifted his hand and walked away.
He didn’t recognize me. I choked on tears and slapped a hand over my mouth.
They don’t know you exist.
I didn’t care. I knew they, or at least he, existed. I wiped my face and followed him. Pretty sure he heard me stomping behind him, but he didn’t turn around. He parked the rolling stand before a modest two-story townhome and opened the front door. Before he went inside, he paused and turned toward me.
“Mister,” I said. “Does this street have a name so I can tell my friend to come and get me?” Daddy wouldn’t take me inside no matter what. I knew this about him from the Before. No strangers inside our house. We never even answered the door for mail.
“This is Fourth Street in the Norah quarter.” He pointed. “Keep moving down and you’ll get to the boats. Happy Sunday, soldier.”
“Take care, stranger.”
He closed the door. I crumpled against the stone and cried.
Chapter Twenty-Four
At the top of the House, I stood, sharp eyes scanning the city, wings heavy and wet from the rain that pounded the east side of the Court. Only a few minutes ago, Noditas came back, reporting a sighting of Julia’s father. As requested, Noditas bent the light, thereby distorting her facial appearance, and her father hadn’t recognized her. Julia was smart enough not to probe his memories, but that didn’t mean she took their reunion well. I tried to tell her. I tried to protect her from it, but eventually, I found it necessary to arrange for their paths to converge.
Half a million civilians lived in the city. The chances of her finding her family were slim to none, especially because soldiers trained while civilians worked, their lives rarely intertwining. But if it had to happen, I would be sure I arranged it on my watch.
A small figure dressed in white stumbled inside the lower court. I spread my wings, groaning at the weight of them, then shook off the excess water before taking flight. I landed before her and spread my arms. “Julia.”
She went around me as if moving around a statue. My poor mortal.
I followed her inside the house, up the stairs I had no need to climb and onto our floor, where I opened my chamber door. As if on strings, she walked in there, methodologically, emotionless, not caring about anything. In the middle of the room, she stopped, looked down, then turned, gaze on the muddy tracks left from her boots. She slipped them off. “Sorry about the mess.”
She stripped off her clothes and got under the comforter, covered her head, and curled up in a ball. I sat on the bed beside her, wings dripping water. I shook out my hair and ran a hand down my face.
“You put their address in my file knowing I would look.”
“Yes.”
“Because you control everything.”
“Yes.”
“I saw my Daddy,” she said. “He’s alive and well. I didn’t say anything. He thought I was a stranger.”
Julia grieved. I felt it. “Approach, and I shall take some of your pain.”
She didn’t, but asked, “When you created this world, did you think about the families? Are they together?”
“Most of them. Some, like you, for example, ended up wherever needed.”
“I am not needed here.”
I lay beside her, stole her sheet, and crawled under it. I scooped her up and let her take strength from me. Julia drew circles on my chest. “I hate your world.”
My breath hitched, a hole made in my chest. I stroked her hair. “Your brother
