North Philly usually smelled like wet cardboard and exhaust fumes, but the alleyway they stood in smelled like something else entirely.
It smelled like a slaughterhouse that had been left in the sun for a week.
"Oh god," Jude gagged, pulling his collar up over his nose. "What is that?"
"Sulfur and rotting corpses," Bob said, stepping over a puddle of questionable liquid. He didn't seem bothered by the stench; he was too busy checking his clipboard, illuminated by the flickering yellow light of a security lamp. "Breach point is right ahead. Behind the dumpster."
Jude squinted into the darkness.
At first, it just looked like a pile of trash bags. Then, the trash bags moved.
A figure revealed itself from the shadows. It was vaguely humanoid, but all the proportions were wrong. It was too thin, with limbs that had too many joints, bending backward and forward like a broken marionette. Its skin was translucent and wet, slick with a dark, oily secretion. It didn't have a face, just a vertical slit running from forehead to chin that oozed black vapor.
"That," Jude whispered, his blood turning to ice, "is not a goblin."
"Scavenger Class," Bob noted, clicking his pen. "Bottom feeder. It slipped through a micro-fracture in the veil. Usually, they eat stray cats or rats. If they get big enough, they start eating homeless people. Then they move on to joggers."
The creature twitched. It let out a sound; a high-pitched, wet clacking noise that made Jude's teeth ache.
"It sees us," Jude said, taking a step back.
"It sees you," Bob corrected, leaning against the brick wall. "I'm on a different frequency. To that thing, I'm just background radiation. You're the one glowing like a celestial lightbulb."
Bob gestured with his pen. "Go on, champ. Earning potential."
Jude swallowed hard. He focused.
SNAP.
The wings burst from his back, casting a brilliant white light into the dirty alley. The Celestial Bow formed in his hand, humming with power.
The creature shrieked. It hated the light.
"Okay," Jude muttered, raising the bow. "Just like the fan. Just like the fan."
He drew the string back.
The creature didn't wait.
It didn't move like a person; it moved like a spider being fast-forwarded, launching itself across the twenty feet of alleyway in a blur of wet skin and claws.
"Fuck—!"
Jude didn't even get the arrow off the string.
The creature slammed into him with the force of a wrecking ball. Jude went airborne, smashing into the brick wall hard enough to crack the masonry, the air leaving his lungs in a wheezing gasp. He hit the ground, the bow clattering from his hand and dissolving into sparks.
The creature was on top of him instantly.
It was heavy, hot, and smelled of ancient death. Its claws—long, serrated bone spikes—tore through Jude's jacket, raking against the divine energy shielding his skin.
"Get the fuck off!" Jude screamed.
He kicked out, panic overriding training, and scrambled backward, his hands slipping in the alley muck. The creature hissed, its vertical face-slit opening to reveal rows of needle-like teeth as it lunged for his throat.
Jude threw his arm up.
FLASH.
He didn't summon the bow. He summoned the blade.
A single curve of golden energy manifested in his hand, acting like a shield. The creature bit down on the celestial metal, its teeth shattering with a sound like grinding glass.
It shrieked again, recoiling.
Jude didn't wait. He didn't think about grace or form. He just wanted this thing away from him.
He scrambled to his feet, adrenaline flooding his system, and grabbed the energy blade with both hands, swinging it like a baseball bat.
THWACK.
He connected with the creature's midsection. The blade didn't cut cleanly; it tore, ripping through the translucent skin and spraying black, boiling ichor across the walls.
The demon wailed, a sound that was disturbingly human. It thrashed, trying to retreat, but Jude was on it now.
"FUCKING DIE!" Jude yelled, swinging again. And again.
It was brutal. It was clumsy. It was disgusting.
He hacked at the thing until it stopped moving, finally driving the golden blade into what passed for its chest and leaning his entire body weight into the strike. The creature convulsed once, dissolved into a pile of smoking black sludge, and then evaporated into ash.
Jude stood there, heaving. His chest burned, and he was covered in black spots of demon ichor that sizzled faintly against his jeans.
He let the weapon dissolve and leaned against the dumpster, trying not to vomit.
Slow clapping echoed from the entrance of the alley.
Jude looked up. Bob was standing there, looking mildly amused.
"Well," Bob said. "That was... messy. Effective. But messy. You fought like a drunk guy after being cut off at the bar, not a celestial being."
"It... it was fast," Jude gasped, wiping sweat from his forehead. "You didn't say it was fast."
"They're all fast, kid," Bob said, walking over to inspect the pile of ash. "And that was just a Scavenger. That was the demonic equivalent of a raccoon with rabies."
Bob turned to look at him. The streetlights reflected off his balding head, but his eyes were serious.
"You panicked. You lost your weapon. You let it get inside your guard. If that had been a Hunter or a Knight, you'd be decapitated right now, and I'd be filing paperwork for a replacement."
Jude looked down at his shaking hands. The triumph of the training montage was gone. He felt small. He felt breakable.
"I killed it," Jude muttered.
"You survived it," Bob corrected. "There's a difference."
Bob reached into his pocket and pulled out a handkerchief, tossing it to Jude. "Wipe your face. You've got demon goop on your cheek. It burns if you leave it too long. Bad for the skincare routine."
Jude scrubbed his face, wincing as the skin stung.
"Look," Bob said, his voice softening just a fraction. "For what it's worth... you didn't freeze. You took a hit, and you got back up. Most rookies curl into a ball and cry for their mommy. So, you're not a total failure."
Bob raised his hand. The air swirled, tearing open into the blue vortex of a portal.
"Go home. Take a shower. Play some videogames, or do whatever the hell you kids do nowadays. Put some ice on those ribs; you probably bruised them hitting the wall. I'll be in touch soon."
"Wait," Jude said. "That's it? No debrief?"
"Debrief is: don't die," Bob said, stepping backward into the light. "And do your homework. Seriously. If you flunk out of college, Seraphile will be annoyed. She hates dropouts."
The portal vanished.
Jude was alone in the alley. The smell of sulfur was fading, replaced by the familiar scent of garbage. He groaned, pressing a hand to his ribs. They throbbed. He retracted his wings—the sensation was like a muscle spasm relaxing—and felt the weight of the mortal world return.
He limped out of the alley, checking his phone to make sure the screen hadn't cracked when he hit the wall.
The screen lit up. 3 Missed Calls.
NATALIA (Text): Hey! Where have u been all day?? We're all meeting at my place. Need to do some planning for the rest of the weekend. Get over here. Need my pretzel boy <3
Jude stared at the screen.
Five minutes ago, he was hacking apart a monster from another dimension. Now, he was being summoned to a sorority girl's apartment to plan a night out. He looked at the black stain on his sleeve. He looked at the text.
"Planning," Jude muttered, thumbing in a reply. "Right."
He shoved the phone in his pocket and started the long, painful walk to Natalia's.
Natalia's apartment was less of a college dorm and more of a showroom for a Scandinavian furniture catalog. It was on the 15th floor of a complex that had a doorman, a gym, and a strict "no loud noises" policy that Natalia typically ignored.
When Jude pushed the door open, the air conditioning hit him first; crisp, expensive, and smelling of vanilla bean candles.
"He lives!" David roared from the kitchen island, raising a bottle of tequila.
The gang was scattered around the open-concept living room. Kelvin was methodically slicing limes. Ollie was messing with the sound system. Emily sat on the edge of the pristine white couch, looking anxious, while Greta lay sprawled across the other end, staring at the ceiling fan with glazed eyes.
"Hey," Jude said, stepping inside. He tried to hide the limp, keeping his arm pressed against his ribs where the demon had hammered him.
"You look like shit, dude," Greta announced without lifting her head.
"Thanks, Greta," Jude muttered. "Tripped on the way over. Mud puddle. It's a whole thing."
"You are the clumsiest human being alive," Natalia chuckled, gliding out of her bedroom. She looked effortless in a silk robe that probably cost more than Jude's entire wardrobe. She handed him a wet wipe. "Clean your face. You have... soot? Is that soot?"
"City air," Jude lied, scrubbing the demon ash off his cheek.
"Anyway," David said, slamming his hand on the marble counter. "Focus, bitches! Tomorrow night. Saturday. The Sigma Chi 'End of the World' Rager. It is going to be insane."
"I heard they rented a fog machine," Ollie added, bouncing on his heels. "And a mechanical bull."
"We are going," David declared, pointing the tequila bottle at the group. "Pregame here at 7:00. We walk over at 9:00. No excuses. This is the biggest party of the semester."
Cheering erupted. Kelvin nodded solemnly. Emily smiled weakly. Even Greta managed a thumbs-up from the couch.
Then, the room went quiet. Six pairs of eyes turned to Jude.
Jude stood by the door, still clutching the wet wipe. His ribs throbbed. He was tired. He had just killed a demon with a bow made of light. The idea of standing in a sweaty basement listening to trap music sounded like torture.
"I don't know, guys," Jude started, shifting his weight. "I've got a lot of work to catch up on, and—"
"Oh my god," the collective groan was deafening.
"Jude, come on!" Ollie pleaded. "Don't be a pussy."
"Every time," David complained. "Literally every fucking time."
Greta sat up. Her movements were jerky, uncoordinated. She fixed Jude with a heavy-lidded, venomous stare.
"Just let him stay," Greta slurred, her voice dripping with disdain. "If he's gonna be a pussy, he should just stay home. Nobody wants a mopey, limp-dicked bitch ruining the vibe anyway."
"Greta..." Emily nudged her, whispering a warning.
"What?" Greta snapped, swaying slightly. "I'm right. He thinks he's too good for us. Let him rot in his room."
Jude felt the familiar heat rise in his neck. The shame. The urge to retreat.
"He's coming," Natalia said.
Her voice cut through the noise. She walked over to Jude, invading his personal space, smelling of vanilla and expensive shampoo. She touched his arm—the same arm the demon had scratched. Jude flinched, but she didn't notice.
"You're coming," she repeated, offering him that smile. The one that made his brain shut off. "For me? Please? It won't be the same without all of us there."
Jude looked at her. He looked at Greta, sneering on the couch. He should say no. Bob would tell him to say no.
"Okay," Jude said, his voice hollow. "I'll come."
"Yes!" David shouted. "Jude the Dude returns!"
The tension broke. The planning resumed—what to wear, who was bringing chasers, who was buying the wristbands. Slowly, the group began to disperse. Ollie left to go find food. David and Kelvin headed out to buy supplies. Greta stumbled out, leaning heavily on Emily.
Jude waited until the door clicked shut behind Emily. He turned to leave.
"Jude? Wait a sec."
He froze. Natalia was leaning against the kitchen island, her arms crossed. The party-girl smile was gone, replaced by something sharper.
"Yeah?" Jude asked, his heart hammering against his bruised ribs. "What's up?"
"Are you okay?"
"Yeah. Why?"
Natalia tilted her head. "You've been... off. Since the semester started, sure, but the last two days? You're weird, Jude. Weirder than usual."
She walked toward him, her slippers silent on the hardwood.
"First the 'mugging.' Then the disappearing act at the game. Now you show up covered in dirt saying you fell in a puddle?" She stopped inches from him. Her eyes searched his face. "And you didn't get my gummies. You always get the gummies. You never forget."
It was said softly, but the accusation hung in the air. You aren't performing your function.
"I care about you, Jude," she said, lowering her voice to a whisper. She reached out, adjusting the collar of his dirty hoodie. "We all do. But I feel like you're hiding something from me."
She looked up at him through her lashes. "You can tell me. You know that, right? Whatever it is. Drugs? Money? A girl?"
Jude's mind raced.
He wanted to tell her. God, he wanted to tell her. He wanted to say, I died. I'm an angel. I killed a demon in an alleyway five minutes ago to save the city so you could go to your party.
He wanted her to look at him with awe instead of pity. He wanted to be the hero she posted about on Instagram.
Tell her, a voice in his head screamed. She'll understand. She loves you.
No, another voice whispered. She loves the mascot. She loves the pet.
Jude looked into her dark eyes. He saw the expectation there.
"No," Jude said. He forced a smile that felt like wearing a mask made of lead. "I'm not hiding anything, Nat. Just... stressed about grades. Really."
Natalia studied him for a second longer. The calculation behind her eyes flickered. Then, the warmth returned.
"Good," she beamed, patting his chest. "I worry about you. Don't be late tomorrow, okay? 7:00 sharp."
"I won't."
"And don't worry about Greta," she added breezily, turning back to the kitchen. "She's just... you know. Greta."
Jude nodded. "See you, Nat."
He slipped out the door, his shirt sticking to his back with cold sweat.
Inside the apartment, the silence returned.
Natalia waited until she heard the elevator ding down the hall. Her smile vanished instantly. She walked into her bedroom, the silk robe flowing behind her like a cape.
She sat at her desk, which was impeccably organized. A ring light stood in the corner. She opened her laptop.
The screen illuminated her face in a cool, blue glow. She wasn't looking at Instagram. She wasn't looking at TikTok.
She was on a government website. The header was bold, stark, and gray.
P.I.T. - POWERED INDIVIDUAL TASKFORCE CAREERS & INTERNSHIPS
Status: Application Under Review Position: Public Relations & Crisis Management Intern (Philadelphia Division) Clearance Level Requested: Tier 1
Natalia stared at the screen, her reflection ghosting over the grim logo of the eagle clutching a lightning bolt. She refreshed the page.
Still pending.
She drummed her manicured fingers on the desk, staring at the screen with a hunger that had nothing to do with snacks.