Read Online Angel Of The City by R.J. Leahy - Free Book Online Page A

scared?”
    “ No one ever said it was easy, but sometimes there’s no other choice.”
    “ Did you have a choice?”
    How many times have I asked myself that question? Mostly when I’m with Reed or adversely, when Devon calls for me. Could I have made another decision? Could I have found a way to remain a Counselor? “No.”
    “ I think maybe we did.”
    It ’s clear she’s having second thoughts and maybe beginning to blame her sister for their present situation, but it’s a pointless exercise. What’s done is done. There’s no going back for any of us and nothing to be gained by dwelling on it. Once you’re a shade, you either learn how to live as a shade or you die, it’s as simple as that. “Pen…”
    “ Have you ever…you know, been picked up by Counselors?”
    I answer as truthfully as I dare. “I’ve been in a few precinct houses in my time.”
    “ Is it bad?”
    “ It depends on what they want you for. It’s never pleasant, but not everyone who gets picked up undergoes interrogation.”
    “ Abby says interrogation is just another word for torture.”
    True, b ut torture is illegal, so they found another word. Interrogations can last for days, weeks even. I’ve seen Counselors bring a prisoner to the very edge of death, only to revive them and begin the process all over again. I’ve done it myself, and worse.
    “ Sometimes people are just held for questioning,” I say. That at least is true. Often just being picked up is enough to scare people into giving them everything they want to know.
    “ Oh,” she says, and I see hope rise in her. It’s a thin enough hope, but right now it’s all she has and she’ll grasp it until the end.
    I grab a small coil of wire and we stare at each other in awkward silence.
    “You promised,” she says.
    I hesitate , then reach into the drawer and pull out a pistol, handing it to her. “Remember, two days.”
    She stares at the gun, turning it over in her hand.
    “Pen, two days.”
    She looks up. “Yeah, I know. Two days.”
    As I walk towar d the Two One Nine station house, my collar drawn up against the cold, I can’t get her image out of my head: small and alone, holding my gun in her hand. A gun with only one bullet.
     

SIX
    T he shadows have lengthened by the time I reach the precinct. I find a dark corner in the alley next to the station house and squat down in the trash. On the wall across from me is another Angel graffiti, the white paint dripping down in irregular lines.
     
    Freedom breeds uncertainty; uncertainty invites chaos.
     
    Within the hour, the streets are packed solid with humanity, everyone moving together in sweaty, shuffling, imperfect rhythm. Heads down, eyes forward; all anyone wants is to get home before the scanners come alive. Few look in my direction and those that do, glance quickly away. You can’t be too careful.
    Maybe you ’ve insulted someone from a another quarter or a different clan, or maybe someone has finally tired of watching your family eat while theirs starve. Not all vendettas are blood feuds and revenge is cheap. There are always men with empty bellies and sharp knives willing to work for a few coins.
    To live in the city is to live in fear , so you trust to your instincts and look away; don’t make eye contact; keep on walking. Only Counselors walk the streets without fear, and only because everyone else fears them.
    The crowd soon thins , then vanishes altogether as the sun sets behind the tall buildings. There’s a crackling sound and I can just see the blue haze of a scanner flicker to life across the street. I’m in no hurry. Nothing to do for hours yet, so I sift through the trash and find a brick, carefully tying one end of the wire around it. It’s cold. I pull the trash around myself to keep warm and close my eyes.
    A few hours later I stand and stretch my legs, getting the blood flowing again. The alley leads to the back of the station and a fenced parking area. An electric gate opens to