Angel Fever (22 page)

Over five hundred miles of desert and mountains, and he had no vehicle and only one shoe – but at least he had a direction to head in. It should take him a few weeks, if he was lucky and made it without being discovered.

Please try not to worry too much, babe,
he thought to Willow.
I’ll be home as soon as I can, I promise.

As he headed across the dusty courtyard, its flat stones still held some of the day’s warmth. Where they ended, the ground turned gritty under his shoeless foot.

Leaving the buildings silent and empty behind him, Alex started walking across the desert.

Now, three weeks later – three weeks during which his sock had rapidly disintegrated until he was limping on cuts and blisters, but still he’d refused to slow his pace; three weeks of largely harsh terrain with barely any food to keep him going – Alex had finally reached his goal.

When he’d first woken up that morning, he’d found a foxlike creature nestled asleep against him – the animals here had no fear at all. He’d smiled in slight surprise, touching the reddish-gold fur; the fox-thing had awakened with a sharp, pointed yawn and ambled off. It had seemed a good omen.

It wasn’t.

Alex lay on his stomach on a grassy hill, staring down at the city below. In some ways, it looked very much like the Denver he knew – some of the buildings were even the same. He could pick out a twin to the Wells Fargo Centre with its curved apex, and something that looked like the Centre for the Performing Arts, though with a kind of crystal surface.

What wasn’t the same was the size of the place. It was easily twice as big as the human Denver, extending well past the Coliseum-like building to the north that seemed to match the Church of Angels cathedral. There would be no “going around” the city to reach the place – he’d have to go straight through.

And it was full of angels.

Alex raised his rifle and peered through the magnified lens. There were no cars; the street surfaces looked cobbled, like an old European town. Scanning slowly, he saw a few angels in their human forms – always in a group, never alone – but could sense a hell of a lot more that weren’t visible. He frowned as he probed the angelic energy. It felt
frightened,
almost – as if they were all huddling together somewhere for comfort.

But he could be wrong, and he had to be prepared for anything. Glancing at the sun, he grimaced. He’d have to wait until dark before he attempted this. Another delay when he was so close was galling.

“What are you doing?” asked a soft female voice.

“Checking out the city,” Alex responded without looking up. He watched a flock of angels circling down below; the motion had a ritualistic sense. Was that how they fed here? If so, they didn’t stay in flight very long. He waited for the ghost’s next comment – maybe about how beautiful the angels were, for a change, instead of
where have they all gone?

“You seem really familiar,” she said in a puzzled tone.

Alex glanced up – and his heart stopped. A girl of around his own age sat in the grass beside him, hugging her knees to her chest; she had long blonde hair and delicately pointed features.

Willow?
he thought, thunderstruck.

He sat up, staring. No, this wasn’t Willow, he realized in confusion – her hair wasn’t as wavy, her face slightly different. Besides, Willow hadn’t been blonde in over a year.

“Who are you?” His voice was hoarse.

The way the girl’s mouth pursed – like Willow’s did when she was thinking about something – caught at his heart.

“I should know that,” she said finally. “I’m sorry – I get confused about things sometimes. It’s usually better here, but…” She shrugged and rested a cheek on her knees, studying him. Though wind stirred the grass, her hair and skirt hung motionless. Her eyes were Willow’s: leaf green and slightly tilted.

“You do seem very familiar,” she repeated with a frown. “I don’t think I know you, though.”

Maybe not, but Alex suddenly had a sinking feeling that he knew her.

“Miranda?” he said softly, hoping he was wrong.

Her face lit up, making her look more like Willow than ever. “Yes, that’s me! I
do
know you.”

“Kind of,” Alex got out. “I…know someone you know.”

His throat was dry. Jesus, was
this
what the ghosts were – the part that went missing in people with severe angel burn? Willow had described to him so many times how her mother just sat catatonic, lost in her dreams. Exactly like millions of others with minds shattered by the angels. Apparently some essential part of them had simply left the human world and come here, where the angels were from.

“I don’t usually come to this city any more,” Miranda was saying. “There’s someplace else I like to go. But then I sensed you – and you seemed so familiar that I had to come.”

“Yeah?” Alex asked dully. Should he even tell Willow about this? God, she loved her mother so much – as a child, she’d cared for Miranda alone, keeping her mental illness a secret so that no one would take her away. Would it make her feel better or worse to know that somewhere her mother wandered, eternally young and beautiful and confused?

“Yes, it’s strange,” Miranda went on. “It’s as if…as if someone reaches out to me sometimes, and I’ve heard them talking about you.” Looking disturbed, she cocked her head to one side, studying him. “You said you know someone I do. Is it Raziel?” Her voice softened at the name.

Alex held back a bitter laugh. “Uh – no,” he said. “I mean, yeah, I do, but I don’t think that’s how you know me.” He hesitated; did she even remember she
had
a daughter? He plucked a piece of dry grass from the ground, twisting it between his fingers.

“Do you know Willow?” he asked finally.

Miranda went still. “Willow,” she repeated. “I remember once in the other world…that was when…” Her eyes became lost in time; Alex had the sudden fear that she might vanish.

“Can you see that other world now?” he asked quickly. “Is anyone there with you? Do you know where you live there?”

As he’d hoped, the questions seemed to ground Miranda; she focused on him again as she considered. “There’s a lake, I think. I hear it sometimes…and Jo is there. My sister.”

Alex started to ask if she knew who’d protected them – the mystery person who’d burned Joanna’s house down to convince the world that the two women had died – but Miranda was still talking.

“When I sense whoever it is that’s reaching out to me, that’s where they’re reaching – to the Miranda by the lake. But I can still hear it. Feel it. Right here,” she said, touching her heart with slender fingers. She left them there, frowning.

“Wait – that someone reaching out to me – Willow!” Her eyes flew to his, as if seeking confirmation. “I have a daughter.”

Alex nodded. “Yeah, you do.”

“How could I have forgotten?” Miranda murmured, pressing her fingertips to her forehead. She darted him an almost frightened glance. “How old is she now?”

“Eighteen.” There was so much more Alex wanted to say –
she’s beautiful; you’d be so proud to know her; she makes my life worth living
– but he kept quiet, letting Miranda adjust.

“Eighteen – but—” She licked her lips. “But I’m only twenty-one.”

Grey clouds were rolling in over the bruised peaks of the mountains. The breeze picked up; Alex felt cold even with his jacket. He chose his words carefully.

“The part of you that’s here is still twenty-one. I guess you always will be. But in the other world, you’re old enough to be Willow’s mother.”

Though Miranda’s eyes stayed locked on his, he wasn’t really sure how much she was taking in. The wind tugged at his hair. Miranda sat as if in a bubble of protection, hair and clothes motionless.

“I never see Raziel any more,” she said finally. She nudged at a blade of grass. Her finger passed right through it. “He used to come here sometimes – I’d follow him, though he never knew.”

“You mean the angels can’t see you?”

Miranda gave a wistful shake of her head. “I don’t know why, when we all want them to so badly…”

When Alex had first encountered the ghosts, he hadn’t sensed any energy from them, though he hadn’t spent much time trying. Attempting again now, he detected only a faint life energy from Miranda – just an echo, really, and more on the human world’s frequency than here. Maybe they could only be seen by humans, then.

“Raziel used to come to this city sometimes,” Miranda went on, nodding downward. “But now he never does, so I go somewhere else. It’s a special place, though.” A fleeting smile. “I remember things there that make me happy.”

“I’m glad.” The words came out huskily. God, she was so much like Willow – or Willow was like her. Except Miranda seemed so much more vulnerable. Alex felt protective towards her for Willow’s sake – though it was kind of late for that now.

“It makes me feel clearer, talking to you,” Miranda said. Hesitantly, she continued, “In the other place – where I’m old enough to be Willow’s mother – I have trouble thinking sometimes.”

“I know,” Alex admitted. “Willow told me.”

Her face was tense, anxious. “How did I take care of her, then?”

Christ, what a question. “You did the best you could, I guess,” Alex said. But remembering how Willow had told him how much she’d dreaded going to school every day and leaving her mother alone, he knew that Miranda’s best hadn’t been great.

She seemed to realize this too. She winced, studying her hands clasped around her knees. “I know I didn’t do a very good job,” she whispered. “Before I met Raziel, I wasn’t like this.”

“Yeah. I know that too.”

“You do?” Her gaze collided with his again; she looked away, twisting the hem of her skirt. “I – I wonder sometimes…I mean, if Raziel had something to do with…” She swallowed. “But that’s crazy, isn’t it?”

Her voice was pleading, though Alex couldn’t tell what she wanted to hear. “It’s not crazy,” he said. “You’re not the only person who’s felt confused after meeting an angel. All the others here are the same. Plenty of people back home too. It’s…kind of a side effect.” He’d never described angel burn so mildly in his life.

Miranda didn’t respond directly, though Alex had a feeling she’d understood. She gazed down at the city. “Is Willow all right?”

“Yeah, she’s fine.”

“How do you know her? You haven’t said – or have you?”

“I’m a friend of hers.” Explaining that Willow had had a serious boyfriend for over a year, when Miranda hadn’t even remembered that she
had
a daughter just a few minutes ago, seemed a bit much.

“She’s on her way to Pawntucket,” Miranda offered after a pause.

Alex straightened abruptly. “She’s
what
?”

“Pawntucket,” repeated Miranda. “We lived there for a long time. And it’s where…” She looked down; her cheeks tinged as she cleared her throat. “Anyway, she’s going there.”

He’d thought Miranda was fairly lucid; now he was starting to doubt it. “Are you sure?”

“Oh, yes,” she said. “I can feel it. It’s something to do with Raziel – I think maybe he’s going there too.” She gave a crooked smile. “See, I told you that talking to you made me feel clearer.”

Pawntucket,
thought Alex dazedly. Why the hell would Willow be going there if Raziel was? What sort of trap was he building?

A light rain had started. “She’s been very sad, you know,” added Miranda, unaffected by the weather. “For a long time.”

“Yeah?” murmured Alex, still distracted by Pawntucket – and then the words sank in. Oh Christ, that must mean that she couldn’t sense him here; she must think he was dead. His heart wrenched in his chest as he imagined her going through that.

Alex started to ask how she was and then stopped, alarmed to see Miranda looking faint around the edges again. Her form and voice wavered as she said, “All these people who are confused… Maybe – maybe it would be better if that hadn’t happened to them. I mean…even if that meant they couldn’t see how beautiful the angels are.”

Alex watched her sharply. Keeping his voice casual, he said, “That’s what Willow thinks too. So do I. A lot of us are trying to make it so that people aren’t confused by the angels any more.”

To his relief, Miranda turned more substantial again. “You are?”

“Yeah.” Alex swiped his hand through his hair; it was heavy with damp. “That’s why I’m here. I was trying to use the energy field to defeat them. It didn’t work, though. Now I’m just trying to get home.”

Solid once more, Miranda crinkled her nose at him. “
You
were trying to use the angels’ energy field? But that’s impossible.”

Great – it was obvious even to a confused, drifting ghost. “Thanks, I found that out,” he said dryly.

“Because you’re human,” Miranda explained earnestly, as if pleased to be able to help. “The energy field here is very strong, but very exact. You can
sense
things with it, but you can’t use it like the angels do unless you belong here – it wouldn’t let you.” After a pause, she said thoughtfully, “Willow could, though.”

The world felt suddenly electric. Of course:
Willow,
with her half-angel energy. Alex propped his weight on one hand, leaning close to Miranda.

“There’s another half-angel in our world too,” he said intensely. “Could he help her?”

“Does he have someone here?”

Alex frowned, not seeing the relevance. But Seb’s mother was dead, and as far as Alex knew, there was no one else Seb had ever been close to with angel burn. He shook his head. “No. He’s alone.”

“I don’t think so, then,” Miranda said, her voice musing. “Because trying it would be such a jolt, you see. But I’m here for Willow, and she has someone in her own world who she could mentally hold on to there, doesn’t she?”

“Yeah,” said Alex faintly, sinking back into place on the wet grass. “Yeah, she does.”

Willow: Paschar’s vision that she was the one who could destroy the angels – her, and no one else. This was how. Oh Jesus,
this was how.

It was full-out raining now, pattering down on Alex’s head and jacket. Looking at the city, he saw how dark and shadowy it had become and made a sudden decision. “I’ve got to go now,” he said, standing up.