"Are you shitting me?"
Jude's voice cracked. He threw his hands up, gesturing violently to his outfit. "Look at me, Bob! I'm wearing a belt! I'm wearing cologne! I have plans."
Bob didn't move. He stood by the mini-fridge, his ridiculous tie doing nothing to soften the stone-cold look in his eyes.
"Plans change," Bob said flatly. "Cancel them."
"No," Jude snapped. He paced the small length of the dorm room, his heavy boots stomping on the linoleum. "No way. I've spent three years being the ghost of Quaker University. The one night, the one night, I finally feel confident enough to act like a human being, the Great Gig in the Sky decides to pull the plug? It's bullshit."
Jude stopped, pointing an accusing finger at the angel.
"I killed that thing in the alley yesterday. I did your dirty work. I earned a night off."
Bob's expression darkened. He took a single step forward, and suddenly, he wasn't a funny, balding man in a stupid tie anymore. The air pressure in the room dropped. The lights flickered.
"Cool it, hotshot," Bob warned, his voice vibrating with a sub-harmonic hum that Jude felt in his teeth. "You get one win against a bottom-feeder and suddenly you think you're an Archangel? That isn't confidence. It's arrogance. And arrogance gets you dead. Permanently."
Jude flinched, the heat in his chest cooling instantly under Bob's gaze. He lowered his hand.
"We have a read," Bob said, his voice returning to normal volume but losing none of the edge. "North Philadelphia. Close to some of the student housing. Close to where your little frat party is happening."
"A demon?" Jude asked, stepping back.
"Something bigger," Bob said grimly. "The scrying sensors are fuzzy. It's cloaked. But the energy signature is spiking. If it manifests in a crowd of drunk college students..."
Bob let the sentence hang there. He didn't have to finish it. Jude could picture it. The music. The fog machine. The screaming.
"So I'll hunt it tomorrow," Jude pleaded, though his voice lacked conviction. "Let me have tonight. I'll wake up early. I'll search the city."
"The demon doesn't work nine-to-five, Jude!" Bob snapped. "It doesn't care about your social calendar. If you go to this party, you are walking into a hunting ground."
Jude stared at the floor. He ran a hand through his styled hair, ruining the look.
"Fine," Jude swore, kicking his desk chair. "Fucking hell." He looked up at Bob. "So what? I just sit here and wait for the phone to ring?"
"No," Bob said. "You go."
Jude blinked. "What?"
"You go to the party," Bob clarified. "But you are not there to drink tequila. You are not there to ride the mechanical bull. And you are certainly not there to hook up with the girl who you let walk all over you." Bob pointed a finger at Jude's chest.
"You are on watch. You stay sober. You stay alert. You keep your head on a swivel. If something feels wrong, if the hair stands up on your arms, if the temperature drops, you act. Immediately."
Jude groaned, throwing his head back. "That is infinitely fucking worse. Being the sober guy at a party? That's social suicide."
"Would you prefer actual suicide?" Bob asked dryly.
Jude paced again. He looked at his phone on the desk. It was 6:50 PM. David was probably already pouring shots.
"Greta is going to kill me if I bitch out again," Jude muttered. "She already thinks I'm a narc. If I stand in the corner drinking water all night, she's going to skin me alive."
Bob's face softened, just for a second, into something resembling pity. But it was a harsh, ancient kind of pity.
"Let her be mad, Jude," Bob said quietly. "Greta's anger is manageable. Watching her be disemboweled by a Hell-Knight because you were too busy doing a keg stand? That tends to stick with you."
The image hit Jude like a physical blow. He saw Greta; snarky, broken, annoying Greta, torn apart in the middle of a dance floor. He saw Natalia screaming. He saw Ollie crushed under debris.
The confidence of his ironed shirt evaporated, replaced by the cold weight of the job he agreed to do. The job that brought him back to life.
Jude took a deep breath. He squared his shoulders.
"Okay," Jude said. "I get it."
"Good."
Bob stepped back. He raised his hand, and the blue vortex of the portal swirled open next to the bunk bed, sucking the loose papers off Jude's desk toward it.
"Stay frosty. If we get a precise location, we'll ping you. Until then..." Bob looked him up and down one last time. "Try to blend in. But be ready to kill everything in the room."
"Comforting," Jude deadpanned. "Thanks, Bob."
"We'll be in touch. No 'shotgunning' or whatever."
Bob stepped into the light and vanished. The portal snapped shut, leaving Jude alone in the silence of his room.
Jude looked in the mirror. He still looked cool. He still looked like he was ready for the night of his life.
"Sober," Jude whispered to his reflection. "Awesome."
He grabbed his keys, checked his pocket for the invisible weight of the celestial bow, and walked out the door.
David and Kelvin's off-campus suite was less of a living space and more of a staging ground for bad decisions. The bass was already rattling the windows, fueled by a playlist that was exclusively airhorns and trap music.
When Jude pushed the door open, he was hit by a wall of humidity and the smell of cheap vodka.
"HE'S HERE!" David bellowed from atop the coffee table. "THE MAN IN BLACK!"
The room erupted. Kelvin raised a solo cup. Emily, who was currently wearing a flashing plastic tiara and looked like she was struggling to focus her eyes, squealed. Even Ollie, who had made it back from the mall with a questionable choice of hat, cheered.
Jude stepped into the light.
The reaction was immediate. The cheering shifted into a collective "Oooooh."
He looked good. The black shirt fit perfectly. The boots added an inch to his height. The hair was intentional. For a split second, he looked like the protagonist of his own life.
But inside, Jude felt like he was walking into a funeral parlor.
He scanned the room. Every laugh sounded like a scream waiting to happen. He looked at Emily's neck and imagined a Scavenger's claws swiping across it. He looked at the window and wondered if the glass was reinforced.
Stay frosty, Bob had said.
"Yo!" David hopped off the table, shoving a shot glass filled with clear, pungent liquid into Jude's hand. "Catch up. We're three rounds deep. To the night!"
Jude looked at the liquid. It smelled like rubbing alcohol and bad choices.
"I'm good," Jude said, placing the glass on the nearest shelf. "Pacing myself. Big night."
David paused, blinking. "Pacing? Since when do you pace? You're usually the guy passed out in the bathtub by ten o'clock when you drink."
"New leaf," Jude lied, forcing a grin that didn't reach his eyes.
David grabbed Jude's shoulder, pulling him close. The smell of tequila on his breath was overpowering.
"Whatever," David whispered, jerking his head toward the kitchen island. "Look at her. She's been waiting for you. Go be the Alpha."
Jude looked.
Natalia was leaning against the counter, holding a seltzer. She was wearing the silver dress from the mall, and it shimmered like liquid mercury under the lights. She looked expensive. She looked untouchable.
And she was looking right at him.
Jude swallowed the lump in his throat. Don't think about demons. Don't think about blood.
He walked over.
"Hey," Jude said. His voice was steady. Miraculously.
Natalia looked him up and down. Her eyes lingered on the rolled-up sleeves, then the boots, then back to his face. A slow, appreciative smile spread across her lips.
"Well," Natalia purred. "I didn't know you owned a belt, Jude."
"I have hidden depths," Jude said, leaning against the counter next to her.
"You look..." She paused, searching for the word. "Capable. It's a good look on you."
"Thanks. You look… incredible. That dress was a good call."
Natalia beamed. She leaned in closer, invading his personal space. "I'm glad you came, Jude. Really. I meant what I said earlier. It wouldn't be the same without you."
She touched his arm, lightly, fingers trailing over the fabric of his shirt.
Jude felt the spark. It was electric. For a second, the fear vanished. She was flirting with him. Natalia was flirting with him. The plan was working.
Then, he blinked.
For a microsecond, the image overlaid reality. He saw the silver dress torn. He saw her skin gray and lifeless. He saw a demon standing over her, laughing.
Jude flinched, his breath hitching.
"You okay?" Natalia asked, her brow furrowing. "You spaced out."
"Yeah," Jude exhaled, shaking his head. "Just... loud in here."
WHAM.
A red solo cup slammed into Jude's chest, splashing warm beer onto his black shirt.
"You," a voice rasped.
Jude turned to his left.
Greta was standing there. She looked terrifying. Her pupils were blown so wide her eyes were entirely black. Her jaw was grinding rhythmically, a telltale sign of the three lines she'd done in the bathroom. She swayed, towering over him, her combat boots giving her at least three inches of height on Jude.
"You're not drinking," Greta stated. It wasn't an observation; it was an accusation.
"Not yet, Greta," Jude said, brushing the droplets off his shirt. "Chill."
"Don't fucking tell me to chill," she hissed. She stepped closer, smelling of whiskey and chemical energy. "You think you're better than us? You show up here, dressed like... like that... and you think you're too good for a beer with us?"
She shoved the cup into his chest again, harder this time. The plastic crunched.
"Drink," Greta commanded.
"No," Jude said firmly.
"Fucking drink it!" Her voice dropped to a low, guttural growl that made the hair on Jude's arms stand up. "Stop acting like you're special. Stop acting like you're separate. Drink the fucking beer, Jude, or I swear to god I will make you regret coming here."
She looked unhinged. Violent. A powder keg with a lit fuse.
Jude froze. He wasn't afraid of Greta hurting him—he could bench press a forklift now—but he was afraid of her. The erratic, desperate energy coming off her was suffocating.
"Greta, stop."
Natalia's hand shot out, grabbing Greta's wrist. Her nails dug in.
"He said no," Natalia said. Her voice was ice cold. "That's it."
Greta whipped her head around to glare at Natalia. For a second, it looked like she might swing. The tension in the kitchen stretched thin, ready to snap.
Then, Greta blinked. The fight drained out of her, replaced by a twitchy, restless need.
"Whatever," Greta sneered, pulling her arm free. She shoved past Jude, hard, knocking him into the counter. "You're both lame as fuck. I need a refill. I need... something."
She stormed off toward the hallway bathroom, muttering to herself.
Jude let out a breath he didn't know he was holding.
"Sorry," Natalia sighed, watching Greta disappear. "She's on a tear tonight. Don't let it ruin the mood."
She turned back to Jude, her smile returning, though it was a little tighter now.
"Now," she said, touching his arm again. "Where were we?"
Before Jude could even answer, a loud, obnoxious yell took over the dorm room.
"TIME TO MOVE!" David screamed, clapping his hands like a drill sergeant. "The Uber XL is outside! Pack it up, people! We are burning daylight!"
The apartment dissolved into a flurry of grabbing purses, finishing drinks, and searching for phones.
"I saved you a seat," Natalia whispered, leaning into Jude as she grabbed her clutch. "Middle row. Next to me."
She winked.
Jude's heart did that stupid, annoying flip in his chest. Okay, he thought. Okay. We're still in the game.
The Uber ride was a mixture of aggressive driving and Ollie shouting lyrics to songs that weren't playing. Jude sat pressed against Natalia's hip in the middle row of the van. She spent the entire ride scrolling through TikTok, but her leg was touching his, and for Jude, that was enough.
They pulled up to the Sigma Chi house.
It was a massive, three-story brick rowhome that looked like it was vibrating. The bass from inside was shaking the leaves off the oak trees in the front yard. A line of students snaked down the sidewalk, but David walked straight to the front, flashing a text message to the pledge working the door like it was a diplomatic passport.
"We're in!" David yelled over the noise.
They stepped across the threshold and into the sensory assault.
The air was thick, hot, and smelled of fog fluid and cheap beer. The lighting was strobe-heavy, red and orange flashes meant to simulate the apocalypse. A banner hanging from the balcony read: IT'S THE END OF THE WORLD AS WE KNOW IT (AND I FEEL DRUNK).
"Welcome to the Thunderdome!" Ollie shouted.
And then, the disintegration began.
It happened in seconds. The group cohesion that had held them together in the Uber evaporated the moment they hit the dance floor.
"Bathroom!" Greta announced, eyes wild. She clamped a hand onto Emily's wrist.
"But I don't need to go—" Emily protested.
"Yes, you do," Greta hissed, dragging the smaller girl toward the stairs, disappearing into the crush of bodies.
"PONG!" David roared, pointing to the dining room where tables had been set up. He and Ollie sprinted off like soldiers charging a trench.
"Keg," Kelvin said simply, nodding to Jude before vanishing into the kitchen.
Jude stood there. He turned to Natalia.
He opened his mouth. He had a line prepared. Do you want a drink? Do you want to dance?
"Oh my god! BRAD!"
Natalia's face lit up, brighter than it had for Jude all night. She wasn't looking at him. She was looking past him.
A group of guys in matching Sigma Chi jerseys were standing near the DJ booth. They were loud, tall, and taking up space.
Natalia didn't even wave. She didn't say, "Hold on a sec." She didn't look back.
She just floated away, the silver dress acting like a beacon, drawing her toward the center of the room. She threw her arms around "Brad," melting into the group of guys, instantly laughing, instantly radiant, instantly part of a world Jude couldn't touch.
Jude stood alone in the entryway.
The crowd surged around him, bumping his shoulders, spilling drinks near his boots.
He looked down at his black shirt. The one he had specifically picked out. He felt the belt he had put on. He smelled the cologne he had stolen.
It didn't matter.
He wasn't an angel. He wasn't a hero. He wasn't the guy who killed a demon in an alley.
He was just Jude. The mascot. The background character.
The strobe light flashed red, illuminating his face. He looked like a ghost haunting a party he wasn't invited to.
Jude let out a long, shaky breath, the noise of the party drowning out the sound of his own defeat. He shoved his hands in his pockets, found a patch of empty wall, and leaned against it.
Invisible again.