It took a full day before I had the nerve to leave the rookery again. And for my next foray into the world outside, Alex declared he was coming with me, whether or not it made him a chauvinist. He didn’t care about being PC anymore.

Frankly, as we walked along Brick Lane, I found myself happy for the company.

The sun would be setting soon. Dusk and nightfall were when the angels usually crawled out of the shadows—when the Hunt came to East London.

But I didn’t want to think about that now. I wanted the good stories—the gold-flaked cupcakes and wine—so I could forget all about what had happened yesterday.

Alex smiled at me. “You never get sick of hearing about the cupcakes, do you, Ruby darling?” The sunlight warmed his mahogany skin.

“I just want to hear the varieties again. I don’t actually care about the gold; it’s more the cake flavors that interest me.” Anything to get my mind off the memory of the severed redcap bodies, the angel’s savage efficiency. “What did the gold-flaked cupcake taste like?”

Alex squinted into the sunlight. “That one tasted like honey, but I’m sure for enough money, you could have had any flavor you wanted.”

My stomach growled audibly, and I clutched it. “My sister Hazel used to bake cupcakes every weekend. I would murder for a cupcake right now. Any kind. Vanilla, red velvet. Hell, even carrot cake with the cream cheese. I’d probably murder multiple people for that kind with the molten chocolate in the middle.”

“Murder’s not gonna get you cupcakes, love.”

“I think she used to make molten chocolate cupcakes. That’s real, right? It’s not something I dreamed up, is it? Melted dark chocolate, right in the middle of a cupcake. I don’t know what sort of problem the angels have, but the human race invented those, and that makes them gods-damned geniuses. Molten chocolate cupcakes were humanity’s zenith before the Nightmare began, do you know that?”

He shot me a sharp look. “You okay, fairy? I feel like hunger is driving you mental.”

“Fae. Not fairy. And yes, hunger is driving me mental. Ignoring hunger isn’t part of the fae skill set. At least not until you reach the age of ninety or two hundred or something.”

“Right. Sorry. And you’re… what… eighty?”

I rolled my eyes. “A mere twenty-five. Young as hell for a fae.” I rubbed my rumbling stomach. “Hence, I have no control over my hunger.”

“You and me both.”

I glanced at him. “You must have known about the fae for a few years, right? It’s not a new concept for humans.” Demons, humans, fae… we’d all started fighting each other out in the open five years ago. Years before the angels came and started killing all of us.

“Yeah, I’d heard of the fae, I guess, but I’d never met one. Mostly, once humans learned about supernaturals, everyone was focused on the demons. They just seemed a lot scarier than, you know, fairies.”

“Fae. And we are plenty scary. Let’s not forget the time you watched me go feral and chew through leather restraints.”

“It was honestly oddly cute.”

I scowled at him. “Oh, please.”

Alex shook his head. “And yeah, I guess I don’t know a ton about your kind. It’s hard to keep up with everything we humans had to learn in the past seven years. First we learned that magic is real. Then we learned that magical creatures want to kill us, and we could protect ourselves with spells if we get them right. We were just getting used to the idea of all this, and BAM, the dragons come out to slaughter us all before we can do anything cool with this knowledge. Never even got my hands on those magic books to learn to make myself invisible or levitate.”

“Well, I never learned that either. Really wishing I’d studied one of those old agricultural magic books at some point.”

“I’m with you there. I’m just hoping we can get our bloody potatoes out of the ground unscathed today. The hunger is making me dizzy. And if the ground freezes…”

He let the sentence die in the air. If the ground froze, which it usually did in January, we’d be fucked. There was no way around it—we didn’t have enough supplies to get us through the winter.

“I think I know a way to keep people away from us today.” Only this time, the glamour would take a bit more effort.

I closed my eyes as we walked, summoning a powerful glamour—one that would tax my energy. As I let the spell wash over me, the ancient fae magic tingled across my skin in a satisfying rush. I disguised my pale complexion and my green eyes. I covered up my gaunt cheekbones and my skinny form.

I replaced it all with a gargantuan, scarred hulk of a man.

After the glamour fully took effect, a passerby would see an ogre striding down the street next to Alex, all corded muscle. This glamour would be a struggle to maintain, but at least it would keep the redcaps away from us. Sadly, the glamour didn’t actually change my physiology—I didn’t have the strength of an ogre. I was still me completely underneath it all. It was a sort of bubble of illusion around my body. Only thing I didn’t disguise was the bag I carried—that would just about lay me out with fatigue.

Alex peered up at me, grinning. “You look ugly as sin, and I feel safer already.”

“You know I’ll protect you, my little friend.”

My stomach rumbled, hunger gnawing at my ribs. We walked on in silence, and my gaze trailed over the blackened husks of pubs and apartment buildings that lined Brick Lane.

In one of the alleys we passed, the breeze lifted a few plastic bags. The sudden noise made my heart thump. I think I had PTSD from the whole angel run-in.

I could almost envision this street as it must have been: people bustling in and out of the shops and restaurants, buying trendy clothes and eating curries. Now the windows had been smashed, and a crashed truck blocked part of the road, its rotten contents spilled into the street: old cartons of eggs, blackened in the dragon fires; piles of beer bottles, half-melted.

Did the angels spend much time around this sort of depressing landscape? I didn’t imagine so. They probably had a gilded palace somewhere, and every now and then they’d just fly around unleashing death on everyone for no reason.

A few blocks away, two sentinels drifted silently, their dark eyes locked on us.

At last, we took a sharp right onto Buxton Street, where an overgrown park lined a crumbling cobbled road. Part of the park was enclosed by a brick wall—and this was where our garden lay. We looked furtively around us before crossing to the rusted refrigerator door that masked the garden’s opening.

When we were sure the coast was completely clear, Alex shifted the door aside.

Quietly, we slipped in through the narrow opening, my muscles already aching from the effort of keeping the glamour in effect.

In the safety of our little hidden garden, Alex began to pull up potatoes from the cold ground, while I went to check the traps. I grinned when I saw one of the wooden boxes flat on the ground.

Long ago, my parents had made sure I’d learned the old fae ways—how to live off the forest, to set snares for prey. If larger game like deer ever ran through the city, I knew how to carve a bow and arrow from a sapling and shoot the poor bastards, but I didn’t see that happening any time soon.

My mouth was already watering. We’d be having rabbit for dinner tonight. I snatched up the box, then grabbed the panicking rabbit. It only took a second to snap its neck. Clutching the limp body, I wrapped it in a plastic bag.

As I did, an icy wind rippled over my skin, a shadow passing overhead. When I looked up, my stomach dropped. Under the deepening clouds, the dark-winged angel swooped low, though he didn’t seem to notice us.

Tawny sunlight pierced the iron-gray clouds, gilding his powerful wings.

My heart skipped a beat. Death, wrapped in one beautiful, angelic form.

I smacked Alex’s arm, then pointed at the sky. His eyes went wide. As the angel soared away, Alex let out a long breath.

“Bloody hell,” he breathed. “That the one you saw yesterday?”

“Yeah. That’s your first one, isn’t it?” I asked.

He nodded. “You’re the only one I know who’s seen one. What the hell do you think they’re doing here?”

I shook my head. “I can’t tell. I’m not sure if they care whether we live or die. I tried to ask him about my sister, but he didn’t even stick around long enough for me to finish my sentence. He made some weird comments about succubi being naked and covered in blood, then he just flew off.”

Suddenly, Alex’s eyes went wide, and he pressed a finger to his lips, arching a cautionary eyebrow. Voices echoed off the nearby bricks, and a chill snaked up my spine.

The gangs were out late today. Probably the same gang that had beaten the crap out of Alex yesterday. Didn’t they know the Hunt would be coming through here soon?

I shoved the rabbit into the backpack, then peered out the craggy opening in the wall. I cast a nervous glance at the sky, clenching my jaw. Night hadn’t fallen yet, but the last ruddy rays were slipping away fast.

From my vantage point, the street still seemed deserted, just a few plastic bags and old newspapers drifting in the wind. I turned back to Alex, beckoning him to follow, and we slipped out into the street. Carefully, I slid the fridge door over the opening to the garden, hiding our bounty. I tightened my grip on the backpack’s straps, and we moved swiftly over the cobbles, back toward the safety of our rookery.

As we moved, the hair rose on the back of my neck. I didn’t see any gangs, but I could feel their eyes on us. They knew we had food they didn’t have the skills to catch. They might not be stronger than us, or cleverer than us, but they outnumbered us.

“Any idea where they are?” whispered Alex.

I scanned the streets, where nothing moved but scraps of trash blowing in the breeze.

As we turned onto Brick Lane, I heard the first footfalls behind us. I cast a quick glance behind me, my heart thundering at the sight of a large street gang a half a block away. There were about twelve of them. Judging by the looks on their faces, my ogre glamour was doing nothing to scare them off.

At the front of the gang, a pale, bearded man gripped a machete. I knew him, in fact. He was the one everyone called Dickhead, on account of the long, thin birthmark on his bald head. Exactly the man who’d beaten up Alex for his food yesterday.

I can’t say humanity had gotten any more appealing after the Great Nightmare had begun.

Dickhead nodded at us. “What have you got in your little bag there?” he shouted. “Something tasty? Why don’t you let us have a little peek? Feeling a bit peckish myself.”

I shot a quick look to Alex. Not giving up the rabbit, I tried to convey with my eyes. My rumbling stomach demanded that we hang on to what we had.

Alex nodded at me, then we broke into a sprint, charging down Brick Lane. Not a brilliant plan, but a simple one.

Unfortunately for me, the glamour was using up half my energy, and already my muscles were searing, my lungs burning. Dizziness clouded my mind, and I dropped the glamour. It was running or magic—I couldn’t do both.

By the time we reached Osborn Street, sweat drenched my clothes, and my breath had grown ragged in my throat.

We hung a sharp left, my throat tightening at the sound of the gang closing in on us. I reached for one of the surgical blades from my belt, grabbing the hilt.

With a quick turn, I flung it at our pursuers. The blade found its mark in Dickhead’s shoulder. He screamed, grinding to a halt. Already, I was reaching for another blade as the rest of his gang pounded closer to us.

“Faster,” Alex gasped.

Wildly, we veered across Whitechapel High Street. It was only a matter of seconds before we were careening through the doors into the old hospital building.

The gang, of course, ran in after us—right into the trip wire. I didn’t stop to watch the wooden spears pierce their flesh, but I heard the thuds, the screams.

I sent a silent, grim thanks to my parents.

Without the old fae ways, I’d be dead right now.