Chapter 19 · Black Wings at Closing

The howl comes closer.

Aiden doesn't move from where he's standing behind the counter. Leah's still at the table, one hand gripping the edge like it's the only thing keeping her upright. The black marks on her wrist are smoking. Literally smoking. Thin wisps curl up from the numbers—11:57:14—and the smell hits him like rotting flowers.

Debt incense. They're marking her for collection.

"Aiden." Ink's voice cracks through his skull. The raven's perched on top of the espresso machine, feathers bristling. "Three signatures. Northwest corner. Moving fast."

Aiden looks at the windows. All the streetlights outside are dead now. The sidewalk's just darkness and that wet shine you get right before something bad.

"Hunters?" he says.

"Worse. Collectors."

Leah stands up. Her chair scrapes loud against the floor. "What's a collector?"

"The thing that shows up when your time's done." Aiden comes around the counter, puts himself between her and the door. "You don't negotiate with them. You don't run. They just take."

"Great." Her laugh sounds like broken glass. "So I've got twelve hours to kill you or they kill me, and now there's something coming that won't even wait twelve hours."

"They're not here for you yet.