Black City by Christina Henry Page B

concentrating on the situation at hand as well.
    “Do not move around,” he said through gritted teeth. “And keep a tight hold. I am going to have to let go in order to blast them with nightfire.”
    “Who is it?” I said, still trying to crane around and see over Nathaniel’s shoulder at the creatures chasing us.
    “Bryson,” Nathaniel said. “And at least two other Agents with weapons.”
    “Bryson,” I repeated. How had he found me? Was he chasing me at Sokolov’s request or for his own reasons?
    The super Agent hated me, and with good reason. I’d captured him spying on my property and Nathaniel had tortured him at my behest. But why was Bryson chasing after me and trying to kill me now? Didn’t the Agency care that the city was under siege?
    Nathaniel spun in the air, blasted nightfire at the Agents, then turned back to fly away from them. I heard one of the Agents cry out. I really wished I had my wings back. I was useless like this.
    Nathaniel dipped and swerved, careening around buildings and into alleys in an attempt to shake off the Agents. But the staccato rhythm of gunfire chased us as we headed south. All I could see from my position was Nathaniel’s strained face. I kept my grip tight and tried not to distract him while he was trying to save our lives.
    And then the unbelievable, the unthinkable, happened. I couldn’t see Bryson and his cohorts behind us. I was concentrating too hard on keeping a close grip on Nathaniel. But the sound of the gunfire changed, and I’ve seen enough movies to know what an automatic weapon sounds like.
    Nathaniel cried out in pain, a sound I’d never heard from him before. I glimpsed Bryson’s malicious, triumphant face. Then I heard the horrible sound of tearing flesh, felt the hot stickiness of Nathaniel’s blood on my hands.
    It happened so fast that I hardly knew what was occurring until we were falling out of the sky. The shock of it caused my grip to loosen and then I was alone, in the air.
    “Madeline!” Nathaniel cried. His hands reached for me, missed. I glimpsed the terror on his face as I plummeted toward the earth.
    This was how it was going to end. I was going to be smashed on the ground like a bug. Nathaniel fell toward me, spinning this way and that, a gruesome rain of scarlet spraying from his body. I saw his left wing flap as he tried to right himself, saw him reach for me.
    Our fingertips brushed together, slipped apart. Then he grabbed my wrist, his face strained, the muscles of his neck bulging with effort as he struggled to halt our descent.
    That was when I noticed his right wing hung at an unnatural angle, and that it wasn’t moving.
    Nathaniel managed to slow us down enough that our brains wouldn’t splatter all over the sidewalk, but we were still going to hit the ground with more force than the human body could take.
    Inside my belly, a tiny pair of wings fluttered in distress.
    Nathaniel jerked my hand, grabbed my waist with his arm and managed to turn over in midair. We were locked together like a pair of lovers, lying prone as we fell. Nathaniel’s face was grim.
    A second later we crashed to the ground. Nathaniel’s body cradled me, protected me from the worst of it, but I still felt the impact reverberate in my skull. I saw stars for a moment. When my vision cleared, Nathaniel’s eyes were closed. He was paler than death.
    I touched his cheek. “Nathaniel?”
    He opened his eyes, and they were full of pain. His voice rasped out, “I need you to move off me, very slowly.”
    I slid carefully to one side. I could tell that Nathaniel was trying not to cry out again. In the process of moving I noticed a twinge in my shoulder. I sat up on the concreteand put my fingers to the hole in my coat. They came away bloody.
    “Bryson hit you,” Nathaniel said. He watched me from his position on the ground. He hadn’t moved a centimeter since we landed.
    “I think the bullet just skimmed me. I didn’t feel it,” I said, watching