City of Fallen Angels

Kyle nodded. “My truck’s just outside if you want to ride into the city with me.”


Simon bent to grab his duffel bag and straightened with it slung over his shoulder. He slid his phone into his pocket and spread his hands wide, indicating his readiness. “Let’s go.”





5

HELL CALLS HELL


Kyle’s apartment turned out to be a pleasant surprise. Simon expected a filthy walk-up in an Avenue D tenement, with roaches crawling on the walls and a bed made out of mattress foam and milk crates. In reality it was a clean two-bedroom with a small living area, a ton of bookshelves, and lots of photos on the walls of famous surfing spots. Admittedly, Kyle seemed to be growing marijuana plants on the fire escape, but you couldn’t have everything.

Simon’s room was basically an empty box. Whoever had lived there before had left nothing behind but a futon mattress. It had bare walls, bare floors, and a single window, through which Simon could see the neon sign of the Chinese restaurant across the street. “You like it?” Kyle inquired, hovering in the doorway, his hazel eyes open and friendly.

“It’s great,” Simon replied honestly. “Exactly what I needed.”

The most expensive item in the apartment was the flat-screen TV in the living room. They threw themselves down on the futon couch and watched bad TV as the sunlight dimmed outside. Kyle was cool, Simon decided. He didn’t poke, didn’t pry, didn’t ask questions. He didn’t seem to want anything in exchange for the room except for Simon to pitch in grocery money. He was just a friendly guy. Simon wondered if he’d forgotten what ordinary human beings were like.

After Kyle headed out to work an evening shift, Simon went into his room, collapsed on the mattress, and listened to the traffic going by on Avenue B.

He’d been haunted by thoughts of his mother’s face since he’d left: the way she’d looked at him with loathing and fear, as if he were an intruder in her house. Even if he didn’t need to breathe, the thought of it had still constricted his chest. But now…

When he was a kid, he’d always liked traveling, because being in a new place had meant being away from all his problems. Even here, just a river away from Brooklyn, the memories that had been eating at him like acid—the mugger’s death, his mother’s reaction to the truth of what he was—seemed blurred and distant.

Maybe that was the secret, he thought. Keep moving. Like a shark. Go to where no one can find you. A fugitive and a wanderer shalt thou be in the earth.

But that only worked if there was no one you cared about leaving behind.

He slept fitfully all night. His natural urge was to sleep during the day, despite his Daylighter powers, and he fought off restlessness and dreams before waking up late with the sun streaming in through the window. After throwing on clean clothes from his knapsack, he left the bedroom to find Kyle in the kitchen, frying bacon and eggs in a Teflon pan.

“Hey, roommate,” Kyle greeted him cheerfully. “Want some breakfast?”

The sight of the food made Simon feel vaguely sick to his stomach. “No, thanks. I’ll take some coffee, though.” He perched himself on one of the slightly lopsided bar stools.

Kyle pushed a chipped mug across the counter toward him. “Breakfast is the most important meal of the day, bro. Even if it’s already noon.”

Simon put his hands around the mug, feeling the heat seep into his cold skin. He cast about for a topic of conversation—one that wasn’t how little he ate. “So, I never asked you yesterday—what do you do for a living?”

Kyle picked a piece of bacon out of the pan and bit into it. Simon noticed that the gold medal at his throat had a pattern of leaves on it, and the words “Beati Bellicosi.” “Beati,” Simon knew, was a word that had something to do with saints; Kyle must be Catholic. “Bike messenger,” he said, chewing. “It’s awesome. I get to ride around the city, seeing everything, talking to everyone. Way better than high school.”

“You dropped out?”

“Got my GED senior year. I prefer the school of life.” Simon would have thought Kyle sounded ridiculous if it weren’t for the fact that he said “school of life” the way he said everything else—with total sincerity. “What about you? Any plans?”

Oh, you know. Wander the earth, causing death and destruction to innocent people. Maybe drink some blood. Live forever but never have any fun. The usual. “I’m kind of winging it at the moment.”

“You mean you don’t want to be a musician?” Kyle asked.

To Simon’s relief his phone rang before he had to answer that. He fished it out of his pocket and looked at the screen. It was Maia. “Hey,” he greeted her. “What’s up?”