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| Reaping With Class by Beki Yopek |
Friday night at Yankee Stadium usually meant there was enough alcohol going around to drown a small town.
On Friday, June 22nd, 1938, there was at least twice that.
The Reaper grinned at me from beneath the fedora on his black skull. “Prohibition is fresh in the minds of the humans within this stadium, Avaline. In their minds, they deserve an evening like this after being oppressed by the law for longer than they care to remember.”
I patted the Blood Magic folio and haloxite knife in my blazer pockets, then drew a pair of aviators out. “Reap, they won’t even remember this fight night. We just got done harvesting. Why are we hiding in the back rows?”
He pointed to the center of the blazing lights where two men duked it out with gloved fists in a boxing ring. “Even drunk summoners can see us in our usual garb.”
Reap wasn’t wrong. Demon thieves may have followed us from Manhattan. Chances were good that in a city the size of New York, The Coalition would have a few summoners or prayers among the 70,000 strong crowd. Cheers and jeers pierced the eardrums and might have damaged a cochlea if I hadn’t had brimstone horns same as The Reaper did.
I looked him down and up, taking in the solid black tuxedo and fedora he’d swapped out his robes for. “No, I’m saying we don’t have to hide. We already ditched Jack Te-Konos, and I’ll use a little Blood Magic to check for any creeps tailing us. I think we’ve got a little in common with the humans tonight.”
Drawing out my folio, I flipped to the ‘sight’ section and withdrew two magazine pictures. One was a painting of an angel from some bigwig church, and the other was a ridiculous sketch of a demon out of a political cartoon. I took the haloxite knife, slid the point into my finger, and daubed the orange blood that welled up onto both pictures. Then I rolled them up and made sure the blood, picture, and the aviators’ frames were all in contact with each other.
Noise erupted from the well-dressed crowd around the boxing ring and I cranked out the Blood Magic while I waited for it to die down. With the shades on, I glanced skyward and saw half a dozen Seraphs on flight patrol. The left lens highlighted them in sharp violet light. When I peered down, I raised my own right arm and saw it outlined in green through the right lens. A smile quirked the corners of my mouth. The new Demon-Angel aviators worked.
I was about to tell Reap we were safe to watch from the front row when a second shimmering green outline appeared in the D. & A. aviators. A woman in a low-cut, cream colored dress raised her wings and screamed along with the crowd.
“Dammit,” I cursed, nudging The Reaper with an elbow. “See that woman with the carmel hair?”
He shook his skull.
“Avarice,” I spat. “Figures she’d be here. Humans spend a lot of money on fight nights.” I looked up at the Seraphs again, then back down at Avarice as she applauded one of the boxers falling down. “Are there any souls anywhere?”
The Reaper straightened his tux. “None whatsoever.”
I leapt from the back row bleachers and flapped hard for the front row where Avarice was accepting a beer cup from a portly man in a crisp white suit and hat. Two announcers behind a table nearby shouted into mics about Schmeling landing a punch on Louis. Sweat stink and cigar smoke clogged the air and I squinted at Avarice and Beer Cup Man, who was clearly Voracity with that mullet hanging down the back of his suit. Their light clothes and green outlines fit snugly among the men who must have been summoners in the crowd around them.
Humans might not be able to see or hear us unless they’d summoned or prayed recently, but I wasn’t risking this chance. Not with the plan I had fully formed in my mind. If thousands of humans saw a whole lot of invisible nothings thrashing around between them and the boxers, it would have to be because they were too drunk to see the fight right.
Voracity shimmered in green as I descended on the ring and landed on the edge beside the turnbuckle. I pointed the haloxite knife with my blood on it straight at Avarice’s forehead. “You stole two thousand souls during our harvest earlier tonight.”
Avarice’s expression flashed with annoyance and she jerked her horns skyward. “You still think you can end The Coalition with violence? In front of the SPD? Heaven Law states there can be no blows delivered between Soul Fountain workers and Coalition members during a harvest.”
I bared my teeth and readied enough Blood Magic for Voracity and Avarice. “Do you see any souls in the crowd?”
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