City of Blood and Iron

The man on the floor was not breathing, and that was a bad problem for my job.

I stood in the dark basement under Fourth Street and looked down at my desk. Well, it was not really a desk. It was an old wooden box, and on top of it sat a red wooden stamp. Outside the thick concrete walls, normal people walked past in the rain, buying coffee and talking on phones. They had no idea that beneath their feet, monsters lived in the dirt.

My name is Kyle Vance. To my boss at the city hall, I am just a quiet man who likes paperwork. They think I check broken water pipes and fix old streetlights. But my real job is much worse. I hunt things that crawl out of the cracks of the world.

"Code violation," I said out loud. My voice sounded flat and tired in the damp air.

The thing on the floor was six feet of shifting black smoke and sharp teeth. It let out a wet, angry hiss that made the water in the floor puddles shake. It had tried to eat a group of tourists near the subway ten minutes ago. That meant it broke the rules. And in my world, breaking the rules meant getting erased.

The monster jumped at my face.

I did not blink. I did not run. I just reached into my coat, pulled out my heavy red ink stamp, and hit the wooden box as hard as I could.

THWUMP.

A flash of bright gold light filled the room. Golden lines shot out from the ink and formed a heavy cage in the air. The monster hit the invisible bars and screamed. In two seconds, the smoke turned into grey dust, and the room was quiet again.

I blew on the red ink on my clipboard, put the stamp away, and looked at my watch. It was almost time to go home. My younger sister, Elena, was waiting for dinner. She is the only family I have left in this cold city, and keeping her safe is the only reason I wake up every morning.

Ten minutes later, I parked my old truck outside our small apartment. I grabbed my bag and walked up the stairs, ready to tell Elena about my boring day at work.

I opened the front door, and my heart stopped.

The door was not just open; it was smashed completely off its hinges. Splintered wood covered the floor. The small kitchen table was broken in half. A strange, sweet smell hung in the air, like burning sugar and old blood.

"Elena!" I shouted.

I dropped my bag. All the tired feelings from my office job vanished in a single second. I was no longer a boring worker. I was a big brother whose world was ending.

I ran into the living room. Elena was kneeling in the center of the room. Her head was down, and her shoulders were shaking. But that was not what made my blood run cold.

Spreading out from her back were two massive wings made of dark, shining feathers and crackling blue light. They filled the small room with a heavy, terrifying power.

Elena, look at me, I said, taking a slow step forward. My hands were shaking.

She slowly lifted her head. Her warm brown eyes were gone. They were glowing with a bright, cruel amber light. When she spoke, her voice sounded like two people talking at the same time, her own sweet voice mixed with a deep, booming echo that shook the walls.

Kyle, she whispered, her hands gripping the floor so hard her fingers bled. "They were waiting for us. They did not just break in.

I pulled my heavy iron gun from my belt. "Who was here? Tell me right now.

"Director Thorne," she gasped, her wings snapping shut as a wave of pain crossed her face. "He said my eighteenth birthday was not a normal day. He said our whole life was a lie. He said my soul was used as collateral to pay for the city's power grid years ago."

My brain felt like it was splitting in half. Director Thorne was the head of the Special Bureau, the men who paid my salary, the men I trusted.

That is impossible, I said, though my voice broke. "I signed my service contract to keep us safe. I gave them everything.

You gave them everything, Elena cried out, tears of liquid light falling from her glowing eyes, and they still sold me to the Syndicate. They are coming back right now to take me to the throne room. They said I am the final key to rewrite the city's rules.

Before I could answer, the windows of our apartment shattered inward. Shards of glass flew everywhere like sharp rain.

Three men in dark suits dropped through the broken glass, landing on our floor without making a sound. They did not hold guns. Instead, glowing red contracts floated in their hands, covered in sharp, magical writing that burned the air.

Kyle Vance, the lead man said, his smile cold and empty. Step away from the asset. The debt is due, and the contract is locked.