At the far corner of my rookery, I tiptoed over the trip wires, careful not to trigger the traps. When I reached the door, I stared out a grubby hospital window at Whitechapel High Street. A few rays of coral sunlight pierced the bruise-colored clouds, glinting off the broken glass that littered the streets.

My breath fogged the window, and I cleared the cold glass with my palm. I focused on the unexpected beauty of the sunset-tinged glass, and stories began to whirl in my mind—stories of glamour and luxury from before the Great Nightmare had begun.

How long had it been now? At least a year and a half since dragon shifters had destroyed the world, since they’d taken my sister. A year and a half since they’d plunged the remains of humanity into despair. We had to hold on to beauty where we could find it. And we had to keep it alive with stories of the old days.

In London’s rookeries, carved from charred buildings, we huddled around fires at night, cloaked in the smoke of roasting rabbits and rats. During the day, we shared stories of life before the slaughter began—before the dragons had incinerated half the city. Before anyone believed angels would walk the Earth once again.

I shuddered, still working up the nerve to leave the rookery—the hive of homes that survivors had made in the old hospital. It was safe in here. We’d lined the perimeter with booby traps, protected the meager stores of canned food we’d looted from the Sainsbury’s. We were hidden from hounds, angels, dragon shifters… anything that might want to kill us.

Unfortunately, I couldn’t stay here all the time.

Slightly dazed from hunger, I pressed my hand against the glass, staring out at the street. “Hazel,” I whispered my sister’s name, and a sharp pang tightened in my chest. “Where are you?”

Footsteps sounded behind me, ripping me away from my thoughts. I turned to see my friend Alex gingerly stepping over a trip wire in the dingy hospital lobby. “Ruby, darling. A penny for your thoughts.”

Just thinking about Hazel, as usual. I smiled. “Thinking about all the delicious food we’re going to eat,” I lied.

“Didn’t think you were going to leave without me, did you, Ruby?”

I frowned at him, studying the bruises marring his coppery-brown skin. “Alex, you know I love you, but you just got the shit kicked out of you a few hours ago. Let me do this on my own.”

“You know you need my mad skills. And what kind of man lets a woman venture into a post-apocalyptic hellscape on her own?”

I scowled. “Spare me the machismo, Rambo. I might be a woman, but I’m not human. The fae don’t break as easily as humans. No offense.”

His forehead crinkled. “Fine. I’ll stay behind. But only because you insinuated that I was acting chauvinistic, and now I have no idea what to do. I know you Americans get funny about political correctness, and it scares me more than the gangs.”

Smiling, I nodded at the hallway that led back to our safe haven. “All you need to do is stay here and wait till I come back with potatoes and meat.”

“Fine.” He hesitated. “You have weapons?”

“Of course.” Granted, all I had were scalpels from one of the hospital closets, but they were better than nothing. “I’ll see you for dinner.”

I pushed through the door into the afternoon light of the world outside. The January air nipped at my skin through my threadbare coat. It was still a little early to head out, but I’d started to become more and more leery of staying out at night.

When the sun set, there were worse things to fear than demons and gangs.

Gangs or not, each day, at least one of us had to trek north up the winding remains of Brick Lane to where our hidden garden lay. There, we grew potatoes in the cold winter soil and left out traps for rabbits. The one mercy in the year and a half since the Great Nightmare had begun was this warm winter, which meant we weren’t completely starving. Sometimes we had to hike south to the river for water from the Thames, then collect fuel so we could boil it over fires in stainless steel medical buckets to kill all the filth.

I could taste the rich meat, the stewed potatoes, and my stomach rumbled.

If anyone found our garden, we’d starve in a week.

In the chilly air, I clutched the straps of my backpack, glancing at the clouds gathering on the horizon. From the front steps of the Royal London Hospital, I surveyed the main street. A light dusting of snow covered the pavement—the worst we’d seen so far in January. Plastic bags drifted languidly over the street, and bare trees clawed at the skies. A few rays of the setting sun poured through a break in the steely winter clouds and streamed over a pile of ivory bones that lay among a pile of ash on the sidewalk. Human? Animal? Who knows.

Shivering, I pulled my jacket more tightly around me and started walking toward Brick Lane. My skin prickled at the eerie silence that enshrouded the East End, and I kept close to the walls as I walked, trying to slink within the shadows.

My little sister, Hazel, had always loved the dark and creepy things. She was weirdly brave that way. Maybe that little personality quirk was serving her well in this new world. Still, I couldn’t stop myself from wondering about her. Was she hungry? Cold and scared? When she’d lived with me, she’d only ever eaten pizza and chicken nuggets. How was she surviving on a diet of rats? And how did she cope without all the comic books and video games she’d once obsessed over?

The worst thoughts—the darkest ones—I had to lock deep in my mental vault. They’d only drag me down. I had to focus on one thing: hope.

All I knew was that I hadn’t seen her since the Great Nightmare had begun. And I was going to find a way to get her back.

When I turned onto Brick Lane, a flicker of movement caught my eye. A robed figure drifted down the street, black eyes glistening like inky pools, skin the color of bone. I released a long breath. Just one of the sentinels, out for a patrol.

After the Nightmare began, the sentinels had arrived to roam London’s streets, always watching, never speaking. Some flew through the air, and others stalked the alleys. They never touched anyone, never did anything, but we were all sure they reported to someone. To the angels, probably—the godlike creatures who never deigned to walk among us.

Shuddering, I almost regretted turning down Alex’s offer of help. I needed his stories to keep me sane. His were the best for escapism: the tales of excess, of champagne and gold-flaked cupcakes.

“Cupcakes…” I hadn’t realized that I was speaking out loud until the word was out of my mouth.

Hunger ripped through my stomach, and I wiped a bit of drool off my chin. Dignity had deserted me long ago.

Just then, a blur of movement in the distance sharpened my fae senses, and my heartbeat sped up. Two figures were moving fast over the pavement—too fast for humans.

Quickly, I summoned my fae magic. I always wore a glamour to disguise my fae appearance. But now I began to add another layer of glamour, transforming myself into a succubus with a tingling of magic over my skin. I hardly had to change a thing—my deep red hair stayed the same, and my petite frame remained unchanged. By keeping the changes minimal, I could conserve energy I badly needed.

I just shifted my pistachio-green eyes to black, added a bit of charcoal magic swirling around my body, and voila—another demon roamed these streets. Demons tended to leave other demons alone.

Maybe a succubus wasn’t the scariest of disguises, but it was the quickest one to wrap around myself, one I’d used for years as a burlesque dancer. Donning the succubus glamour was almost a reflex at this point.

By the time the two redcaps caught up to me, their metal boots clanking over the pavement, they were staring right at a full-blown succubus. As far as they knew.

Probably naively, I hoped they’d simply take their scrawny asses on past me, uninterested in bothering another demon. Instead, they ground to a halt right in front of me, metal boots screeching on the cold pavement.

Until this afternoon, I’d never seen two redcap demons standing side by side. And I’d certainly never seen the sinewy old creeps skulking around in London’s daylight. Obviously, things had changed since the Great Nightmare had begun, since half the city had turned to ash and there were no police left to protect us.

Sunlight glinted off the demons’ metallic boots, and their black eyes shone like oil. Apart from their strange footwear, the wiry, blood-spattered demons wore nothing but loincloths. A shudder snaked up my neck when I realized the demons’ caps were glistening with burgundy streaks of gore—the felt fabric dipped in their victims’ blood. If Alex were here, they’d be trying to eat him right about now.

Stay calm, Ruby. Stay calm.

“Aren’t you a pretty little succubus?” one of them purred in a thick Scottish accent, stroking his tangled beard.

I arched an eyebrow. “I hope you don’t expect me to return the compliment.”

He chuckled, the raspy sound making me cringe.

You’d think an encounter with two ancient, repulsive demons would make for a good story. Like I said, in the world of the Great Nightmare, stories were our refuge. But I already knew I’d be keeping this one to myself. Our salvation was our happy memories, and this wasn’t about to be a pleasant one.

In fact, I had a pretty bad feeling about what was going to happen next.

Mentally, I took stock of my weapons. I had three scalpels tucked into my leather belt, and… nope, it was really just the scalpels. Still, these particular demons didn’t seem like geniuses, so maybe I wouldn’t need a full arsenal.

One of the redcaps licked his lips, his long, pointed tongue darting out to taste a droplet of blood on his mustache. “Little on the skinny side, aren’t you? Not enough meat on your bones. Not to worry, pretty thing. We’ve got meat for you.”

Gross. I wrinkled my nose, mindful to maintain an aristocratic, succubus attitude.

I loosed a sigh. “Not a lot of Michelin-starred restaurants around since the whole apocalypse started. And unlike you two, I don’t feast on human flesh. You ever think that maybe the angels wouldn’t have come to Earth in the first place if demons like you hadn’t been gorging on Earth’s citizens for centuries?”

One of them rubbed his hands together lasciviously. “You want to see me engorged, eh?”

I shook my head. “Not even close to what I said. You’re not very bright, are you?”

“Pretty thing.” He stroked his scraggly beard. “You feast on humans in other ways, don’t you? Maybe the angels came to Earth because of you. Maybe they want to watch you feeding, with your legs wrapped around a human male. Maybe the angels are as naughty as we are. Ever think of that?”

I gestured at the scorched husks of buildings around us. “I’d say the angels might be worse, in fact, given what they’ve done in their time here.”

None of us really knew why the angels had come, but their arrival had coincided with the start of the Great Nightmare. I’d say there was a good chance they wanted to slaughter us all just for kicks, and they were more than capable of doing it. Redcaps and demons could be scary, yes. But angels—now they were terrifying.

One of the leathery old men crept closer to me, flashing his uneven teeth. “And that’s why we need to stick together, you see. Demon on demon. Wrap those pretty legs of yours around me, and I’ll give you some food to eat. Some fresh human rump. Fatten you up. You just need to be nice to me first. You know how to be nice, don’t you, succubus?”

Obviously, the succubus glamour had been a bad call. Should have gone for an ogre or a troll, even if it sapped all my energy.

My stomach tightened, and I took a step back from them. I could try to run, but no one was faster than a redcap, and few demons were stronger. “A succubus chooses her men, not the other way around.”

One of the redcaps grinned, sharp teeth glinting. “Times have changed in the Great Nightmare, pretty thing. Females are slaves now. Now be a good little succubus, and take off those filthy clothes. Let me see what charms you’re hiding underneath.”

As my blood began to boil, I took another step backward, reaching for one of the surgical scalpels tucked into my leather belt. Whipping it from its holster, I pointed it at the closest redcap.

“What do you plan to do with that?” he sneered. “An emergency appendectomy?”

Succubi weren’t known for their amazing aim.

But the fae were.

I threw the scalpel, and it plunged into his chest. Wide-eyed, he clutched at the protruding metal, blood streaming between his fingers, and I reached for the next scalpel. That one hit its mark in the second redcap’s neck, and blood arced through the air.

Only pure iron would kill them, but the steel would slow them down. I pivoted, breaking into a run at the full speed of a fae—far faster than a human, faster than a succubus.

Just—unfortunately—not as fast as a redcap.

I got maybe fifty yards before bony fingers scraped my scalp, yanking me backward onto the street by the roots of my hair. I slammed down on the pavement, the wind leaving my lungs. In the next second, the redcap was on top of me, his bloodied teeth bared, bony knees in my chest. The scalpel protruded from his ribs.

Frantically, I yanked the final scalpel from my belt.

But before I could slam it into his neck, he clamped a powerful hand around my wrists, the other around my throat. He began to squeeze.

I fought the urge to fade, to reveal my true, primal fae form. If this was how they’d treat a succubus, I didn’t want to think of what they’d do to a feral fae.

As the burning rose in my lungs, my eyes bulged.

Running out of air… I stared beyond the redcap at the sky, hoping for a glimmer of salvation—maybe a passing valkyrie who could help a girl out.

Instead, I saw a single, shimmering midnight feather drifting to Earth, and my heart stopped. Somehow, this herald of an angel’s presence terrified me more than the redcap choking me.

I have to get out of here, or I will meet an angel face to face.