Becca almost lost the contents in her stomach as she whipsawed over a roof.
Her chain crisscrossed with Cyrus’s and then they drifted in different directions.
The wind blew her hair wildly and she was all alone up here. The only thing she could do was hang on.
The chain, despite looking white hot, was cool to the touch. The links pulsed with pure power that made them impossible to cut. Becca thought they’d make killer whips.
“You choose to fly behind the angel,” Garamanthus said.
Becca held the chain close and the links rustled against her skin.
“Leave me alone!” she cried.
“A containment mechanism,” the demon said. “Two lines: one light and one dark to keep the nephilim in touch with its true nature. Which line are we, do you suppose?”
“I said shut up,” Becca said, trying to focus
