Bob didn't ease into the conversation. He slid into Natalia's empty chair with all the grace of a falling anvil, his face twisting from professional server to celestial fury in the span of a heartbeat.
He glared at Jude across the candlelit table. A thick vein throbbed dangerously on his forehead, looking like it might achieve sentience and start screaming on its own.
"Are you brain-damaged?" Bob hissed, his voice low enough to avoid the other tables but intense enough to make the silverware vibrate. "Or do you just practice being this catastrophically stupid in the mirror every morning?"
Jude blinked, his brain still struggling to recalibrate from Romantic Date to My Divine Handler Is Dressed As A Waiter.
"Bob?" Jude whispered, looking around frantically to see if anyone was watching. "What the hell are you doing here? You're ruining everything! I was about to tell her—"
"If you had done your job as an Earth Angel instead of playing dress-up," Bob snapped, cutting him off, "you'd know exactly why I'm here."
He reached into the pocket of his black apron. He didn't pull out a corkscrew or a lighter.
He pulled out the obsidian cube.
Bob slammed it into Jude's open palm.
SSSST.
The cold was beyond cold. It was the sensation of touching dry ice; a freeze so profound it felt indistinguishable from a third-degree burn. The cold bit instantly through Jude's skin, seizing the nerves in his hand and turning his blood to slush.
"Ah!" Jude gasped, recoiling instinctively.
The cube clattered onto the pristine white tablecloth. Instantly, a ring of frost bloomed outward from where it landed, turning the fabric brittle and gray.
"It's active," Bob growled, snatching the cube back with a napkin before it could freeze the entire table solid. He shoved it into his apron. "It's been screaming for the last hour. It's not just cold, it's approaching absolute zero. And do you know why?"
Jude cradled his hand, blowing on his numb fingers. The wine in his stomach had turned to acid.
"Because he's coming," Bob said, leaning in until his nose was inches from Jude's face. "Caligo. The thing that tortured you in that factory. He is coming here. Right now."
"Here?" Jude's voice cracked. "To the restaurant?"
"To you," Bob corrected. "Because that little greaseball you showed mercy to? Kraz? The one you let walk away? He didn't go home and rethink his life choices. He went straight to his master and sang like a canary with a gun to its head."
Bob's ancient eyes bored into Jude's soul.
"He told Caligo exactly where you'd be tonight. The reservation. The time. The pretty girl in the green dress."
The world dropped out from under Jude's feet.
The nausea hit him like a physical punch. He looked at the empty chair where Natalia had been sitting. He pictured her laughing. He pictured her saying she wanted a second date. He pictured her hand on his.
And then he pictured Caligo's dead eyes. The factory. The torture. The way the demon had smiled while conducting their pain like a symphony.
Kraz. The guy he had spared. The guy he had let walk away because he didn't want blood on his hands.
"I didn't know," Jude stammered, his face draining of color. "I thought—"
"Ignorance gets people killed," Bob said ruthlessly. "And tonight, it's going to get her killed too. You have a target painted on your back the size of a billboard, and you brought a civilian into the crossfire because you wanted to feel normal for one night."
Bob checked his watch, a cheap plastic Casio that looked absurd against his tuxedo cuff.
"You have three minutes before the perimeter is breached. Get her out. Now."
Jude stood up. His legs felt like they'd been replaced with wet noodles. The room, which had felt so warm and inviting moments ago, now felt like a trap. Every shadow looked like smoke. Every stranger looked like a threat.
"She's coming back," Jude whispered, spotting movement near the restrooms.
Natalia was walking toward them, navigating between tables. She'd managed to dab most of the wine from her shoes, though she still looked annoyed. But when she caught Jude's eye, she forced a smile, tucking a strand of dark hair behind her ear.
She had no idea she was walking toward a war zone.
Bob saw her too.
In a split second, the celestial rage vanished. The vein in his forehead smoothed. He stood, dusted off his apron, and grabbed the wine bottle from the table.
By the time Natalia reached the booth, Bob was no longer the furious handler. He was Robert, server extraordinaire.
"Mademoiselle!" Bob exclaimed.
Jude stared in disbelief. Bob had adopted a French accent so offensive, so stereotypically cartoonish, it sounded like he was auditioning for a role as a romantic skunk.
"I am so deeply sorry for ze… how you say… ze accident with ze shoes," Bob said, bowing low with theatrical remorse. "I am a clumsy fool. Ze chef is furious with me. He is throwing baguettes in ze kitchen as we speak."
Natalia blinked, thrown off by the sudden performance. "Oh. It's really fine—"
"Non, non, it is not fine!" Bob insisted, waving his hand dramatically. "It is a tragedy! To ruin such beautiful shoes! Which is why…"
He snatched the check from the table and ripped it in half with a flourish.
"Ze meal is on ze house! Free! Complimentary! No charge for ze wine, no charge for ze steak, no charge for ze emotional damage!"
Natalia's jaw dropped. "Are you serious? That's incredibly generous, but you don't have to—"
"I insist!" Bob declared, practically herding them out of the booth. He grabbed Natalia's coat from the rack and thrust it into her arms. "But, ah, zere is one small problem. We have… other reservations. VIPs. Ze Mayor. Maybe ze President. Who knows? Very important people who need zis table immediately."
Bob made a shooing motion with his towel.
"So if you could please… skedaddle? Oui? Go enjoy ze beautiful night air!"
Natalia looked at Jude, utterly bewildered. "Did he just tell us to skedaddle?"
Jude's heart was hammering so hard he thought it might crack a rib. He grabbed her hand. His grip was tight, too tight.
"Yeah," Jude said, his voice strained. "We should go. We should go right now."
"But we haven't even finished," Natalia protested, glancing at the half-full wine bottle. "And I wanted to hear what you were going to say. You were just about to tell me—"
"Later," Jude interrupted, already sliding out of the booth. "I'll tell you everything later. We just need to get outside. The air in here is stifling. Recycled air. Very bad for the lungs. Carbon dioxide buildup. It's a whole thing."
He was rambling. He knew he was rambling. But his brain was misfiring, flooded with images of Caligo's smoke filling the dining room, of screaming diners, of Natalia's body crumpled on the floor.
"Jude, stop," Natalia said, trying to stand gracefully despite her wine-soaked heel. "You're acting manic. Did something happen? Did you get a text?"
"No text," Jude lied, grabbing her hand again. His palm was slick with sweat. "Just a vibe shift. A massive vibe shift. We need fresh air. We need to be anywhere but this specific GPS coordinate."
He didn't wait for her to agree. He pulled.
It wasn't a gentle, romantic lead. It was a desperate tow. Natalia stumbled slightly, her heel catching on the carpet, but Jude didn't slow down. He navigated them through the maze of tables with the intensity of a soldier crossing a minefield, eyes darting to every corner, every shadow, every person who moved too quickly.
"Excuse us," Jude muttered, shouldering past a hostess. "Emergency. Medical. Sort of."
"Jude, you're hurting my hand!" Natalia hissed, trying to dig her heels in. People were staring now. The couple at the table near the door looked up from their calamari, watching the guy in the suit drag the girl in the ruined shoes toward the exit like she was being abducted.
"Almost there," Jude whispered to himself. "Just get through the door."
He shoved the heavy glass doors open with his shoulder and burst onto the sidewalk.
The night air hit them, cool and damp. To Jude, it tasted like danger.
He immediately scanned the street; left toward Rittenhouse Square, right toward Broad. The shadows between the streetlights seemed to stretch and warp. Was that a person in the alley or something else? Was that steam from the subway grate or smoke?
"Okay," Jude panted, turning right. "We walk. We walk fast. We'll grab a cab two blocks down—"
He tugged her arm.
That was the breaking point.
Natalia didn't step forward. She planted her feet, braced her weight, and yanked her arm back with enough force to nearly dislocate Jude's shoulder.
"STOP!"
The word echoed off the brick facade of the restaurant.
Jude spun around, wild-eyed. "Nat, please, we have to—"
"Don't you 'Nat' me!" she shouted, her voice trembling with humiliation and fury. She rubbed her wrist where his fingers had left red marks. "What the hell is wrong with you? One minute we're having the best conversation of our lives, and the next you're dragging me out like I'm a piece of luggage!"
She gestured at the restaurant window, where patrons were now openly watching the drama unfold.
"I was opening up to you, Jude! I was ready to listen! And then you get weird because of a clumsy waiter and start sprinting for the exit? Are you on something? Did you take something in the bathroom?"
"No!" Jude stepped toward her, eyes still scanning the rooftops. "It's not drugs! It's safety! I'm trying to keep you safe!"
"Safe from what?" Natalia demanded, stepping backward. Her eyes glistened with frustrated tears. "From a steak dinner? From a conversation? You're scaring me, Jude. You're actually scaring me."
The words hit harder than any punch.
You're scaring me.
He looked at her standing in the silver glow of the streetlamp; beautiful and terrified, and it was entirely his fault. He'd wanted to be her hero. Instead, he'd become the thing she was afraid of.
"I'm sorry," Jude choked out, stepping closer. "I promise I can explain everything. I just need to get you home first. Please, Natalia. Trust me one more time."
"I don't know if I can," Natalia whispered, hugging her coat around herself. "I thought tonight was different."
"It is," Jude pleaded. "It was. It—"
CLICK.
The sound was soft, but to Jude's enhanced hearing, it might as well have been a gunshot.
It was the sound of a filament breaking.
Above them, the streetlight buzzed angrily. Then, with a popping sound, it went dark.
Then the next one down the block. And the next.
A wave of darkness rolled down Walnut Street, extinguishing lights one by one, rushing toward them like a tide swallowing the shore. The ambient noise of the city; honking cars, distant laughter, seemed to mute, swallowed by a heavy, unnatural silence.
Jude felt the temperature plummet. His breath plumed white in front of his face.
He stopped talking. He stopped pleading.
He stepped in front of Natalia, shielding her with his body.
"Jude?" Her voice had gone small, the anger replaced by primal unease. "Why did the lights go out?"
Jude stared into the darkness at the end of the block.
THUMP.
The sound of something massive striking concrete.
THUMP.
The ground vibrated beneath their feet. The darkness at the intersection wasn't empty anymore. It was solidifying, coalescing into a shape that blotted out the buildings behind it.
THUMP.
"Jude?" Natalia's voice cracked. She backed up slowly, heels scraping the sidewalk, until her spine pressed against his chest. He kept his arm out, pressing her behind him.
"What the fuck is that?" she whispered, staring at the silhouette emerging from the gloom.
Jude couldn't answer. His throat had filled with ice. The fear was biological; the ancient recognition of a predator at the top of the food chain.
"Jude!" Natalia grabbed his shoulder and shook him. "Answer me! What is that thing?"
He was frozen. His eyes locked on the figure stepping into the halo of the single remaining flickering streetlamp.
It had been a man once. He was massive, wearing the tattered remains of a suit, but his skin was gray and cracking like dried riverbed mud. Smoke poured from his eyes, his mouth, the open tears in his flesh, swirling around him in a living cloak.
The thing stopped ten feet away. The smoke cleared from its face, revealing a grin that stretched too wide, filled with teeth made of obsidian glass.
"Angel Boy," the thing rasped.
The voice sounded like burning wood. Like the scrape of a coffin lid.
The creature tilted its head, bones in its neck cracking audibly. It looked past Jude, fixing its smoking, eyeless sockets on Natalia.
"And the date," it rumbled. "What a shame. A real shame."
It took a step closer. The temperature dropped another ten degrees. Puddles on the curb froze solid.
"I'll have to kill her pretty face first," the demon mused, raising a hand that dripped with black sludge. It made a wet, hacking sound that might have been laughter. "This vessel… he had a pretty lady once. Before I wore him. She screamed nicely too."
"Stay back," Jude whispered, the words barely escaping his frozen lips.
"You couldn't find me," Caligo mocked, tapping his temple with a black claw. "Ran around the city with your little toy bow, playing hero. And all I had to do was wait for you to put on a suit and lower your guard."
The demon crouched, muscles coiling like steel cables beneath cracked skin.
"Sorry to ruin the night," Caligo hissed.
Natalia was paralyzed, breath coming in short, terrified gasps. She looked from the monster to Jude, her mind fracturing under the weight of the impossible.
Jude snapped.
The paralysis shattered, broken by the certainty that if he didn't move right now, the girl behind him would die.
He spun, grabbing Natalia by the waist.
"Grab on," Jude ordered.
Natalia blinked, eyes wide and wet. "What?"
"GRAB ON!" Jude roared, slamming her arms around his neck.
Caligo lunged.
The demon moved with terrifying speed; a missile of smoke and muscle launching across the sidewalk, claws extended for Natalia's spine.
Jude didn't reach for the bow. He reached for the sky.
RRRRIP.
The expensive navy suit jacket exploded. The white dress shirt shredded down the back.
Two massive wings burst from Jude's shoulders; brilliant white shot through with gold, unfurling in a blast of celestial wind that knocked over a trash can and sent newspapers scattering into the night.
Natalia screamed pure, unadulterated shock as Jude kicked off the pavement.
WHOOSH.
They shot upward like a rocket.
Caligo's claws slashed through empty air where they'd been standing a millisecond before, carving deep gouges into the concrete.
Jude beat his wings hard, fighting the extra weight, fighting the terror, fighting gravity itself. They rose past the second story, the third. The wind whipped Natalia's hair into a frenzy, her scream turning into a continuous, high-pitched wail as she clung to him, face buried in his neck.
Jude looked down.
Thirty feet up. Hovering near the brick facade of the building across from the restaurant.
"We're okay," Jude gasped, heart hammering against Natalia's chest. "We're—"
Below them, Caligo didn't stop.
The demon didn't look up and shake his fist in frustration. He hit the wall of the building and stuck.
His claws dug into the brick like pitons. Smoke erupted from his back, forming spider-like tendrils that adhered to the masonry.
He began to climb.
He moved impossibly fast, skittering up the vertical surface like an insect, gaining speed with every second. His eyeless face remained fixed on the hovering angel.
"Oh god," Jude choked.
Caligo reached the third floor. He coiled his limbs against the brickwork, shattering an office window.
And then, with a roar that shook the glass of every building on the block, Caligo launched himself from the wall; soaring through the night sky straight at them, claws extended, mouth open in a scream of hunger and rage.