Angel Fever (23 page)

Miranda blinked. “Go?”

“Yeah – back to my own world, so I can tell Willow about this. If she tries it, then you’ll help her, right?”

Miranda frowned; her next words rocked him. “Of course, but…do you really know how to get back? I thought Raziel was the only one who knew that, now that he’s destroyed all the gates.”

The rain beat down, bouncing manically off the cobblestones; the clouds had blackened so that it was almost as dark as night. Having shifted his aura to angelic silver, Alex kept to the shadows as he made his way to the Coliseum, gritting his teeth as his injured foot struggled with the cobblestones.

At ground level this Denver looked a lot less like the city he knew. There were no traffic lights – no sidewalks or signs. Abstract sculptures rose from strange places: the middle of the street or sprouting from the sides of buildings.

Miranda walked beside him, exactly Willow’s height: the top of her head reached just past his chin. “Please don’t tell Raziel I’m helping you get home,” she said again, her voice anxious. “He’s the only one who’s supposed to know about the gate – he might be angry if he found out I followed him.”

“Don’t worry, I won’t tell him,” Alex muttered. A block down, he’d just spotted a group of angels in their human forms. He kept walking, minimizing his limp. He’d hidden the rifle under his clothes, but just his backpack was probably conspicuous enough.

The angels disappeared around a corner; Alex relaxed slightly. “Raziel and I aren’t exactly friends,” he clarified.

From what Miranda had said, Alex doubted Raziel had many friends here either. Doing another scan, he sensed again that the angels were sticking fearfully together – and now their seething, hopeless anger also came through.

No, not many friends at all.

At last the Coliseum’s curved white exterior came into view. The pale wall gleaming through the rain was the most beautiful thing Alex had ever seen. He’d made it – after three weeks, he’d finally made it.

“It’s inside,” Miranda said, gazing at the building with apprehension.

The downpour intensified, falling in solid sheets. Alex jogged across the slick cobblestones towards the Coliseum, pain lashing him with every step.

Miranda kept pace with no visible effort. “Can you tell me what Willow’s like?” she asked hesitantly. “I mean, I know what she was like as a child, but…”

Alex panted out a response. “She’s the most amazing…beautiful girl in the world. Kind…smart – everything. You couldn’t ask for a better daughter, not ever.”

Suddenly his senses tingled in alarm. Alex veered sharply left, but it was too late: an angel, also running, had emerged from a side street. They collided with a solid thump and the squelch of wet clothes.

“Oh, beg your pardon—” started the angel, and then he stared into Alex’s streaming face. “Wait, I don’t know you. You’re not an—”

As the angel broke off, gaping, Alex was already running again, pounding the cobblestones as fast as he could – there was no way he could fake his way out of this one, none.

The Coliseum grew steadily closer, but crippling pain slowed him down. Miranda had vanished. Footfalls sped after him – more than one pair, gaining on him.
Shit.
Alex unstrapped his rifle from under his jacket and whirled to face them, standing his ground.

The angel had been joined by at least ten others. They stopped a few feet away, out of breath, their faces hard. “You’re human,” said the first one. Black hair, dark eyes. “How did you get into our world? How?”

“I don’t know – it was a mistake.” The rifle was propped and ready on Alex’s shoulder.

“Why don’t I believe you?” spat the angel as he stepped forward, rain streaming down his hair. “You know a way in, so you know a way out.
How?
We’re dying here.”

Alex backed away a step, still holding the rifle on them. “Yeah, so you want to come to my world and make sure humans die instead. Not a chance.” He wasn’t without sympathy for the angels – trapping them here had been pretty cold-blooded, even for Raziel – but his sympathy stopped short of letting them join the soul-suckers in his own dimension.

The angels moved towards him with no warning: half of them lunged forward in their human forms; the others shifted to their angelic selves and swooped fiercely at him. Two went high, ready to dive; Alex aimed at the lead one – large and ghostly in the rain – centred on its halo, and shot, then got the second angel just as the human ones tackled him.

Pieces of light fell like confetti as Alex went crashing down. His rifle hit the ground with a clatter as someone wrenched it away from him. “Tell us!” hissed the dark-haired angel, cracking Alex’s head against the cobblestones. “Talk!”

The pain spurred him on. He jackknifed upwards and swung hard, connecting with the angel’s damp cheekbone. His head got slammed into the cobblestones again in response; someone else kicked his ribs. Alex threw punches wildly, not caring what he hit: blood spurting, the crunch of cartilage as he flattened an angel’s nose. He knew he was outnumbered but didn’t care; he was
not
giving up now, not when he was so close to getting home—

In a blur, Alex saw an angel standing on the fringe, staring at the drifting fragments of light. It let out a sudden wail of agony. “He’s killed Ganziel and Larmont! We didn’t even feel it!”

The news seemed to sap all will from the angels.

The dark-haired one on Alex’s chest went still, gazing upwards in horror. The remainder who’d been in angelic form had reverted to human again. They stood shuddering as a group and regarded Alex with wide, frightened eyes.

For the first time ever, Alex felt a fleeting urge to apologize for shooting an angel. He didn’t give in to it. He heaved the dark-haired angel off him, then scrambled to his feet and ran.

The rain was still pelting down. Alex ducked down a side street adjacent to the Coliseum, then another one and another – desperate to lose the angels before they figured out where he was going. Though he scanned continuously, he could sense no sign of them. Had they given up?

No way in hell,
he thought grimly.
They’ve just gone to get all the others.

Finally Alex doubled back. Breathing hard, he pressed flat against a building and peered around it at the Coliseum’s high white walls.

A side entrance lay directly across the street. Alex glanced the other way, hating how open this area was. At least the Coliseum seemed empty – he had a feeling the place hadn’t been used in a while.

“You’re hurt,” Miranda said with concern, suddenly appearing next to him. “Your head’s bleeding…” She reached out to touch it; her fingers tingled lightly against his scalp.

He let out a breath, deeply glad to see her again: this wraith who was somehow all that was left of Willow’s mother’s mind. “I’m fine – I’m going to make a run for it. You can still show me how to get through, right?”

She nodded, and Alex took off. To his relief, the door was unlocked. He slipped quickly through it.

Inside it was cool, dimly lit. He was in a long, plain corridor that reminded him again, strongly, of the Denver Church of Angels – it was exactly like the hallway he’d gone careening down to reach Willow when she’d attempted to stop the Second Wave.

Miranda was beside him again. “This way,” she said, starting silently down the corridor. “It’s different from how the other gates were – Raziel’s the only one who can sense it’s there.” They came to another door; she waited as Alex opened it.

“But what about the timings?” she asked suddenly, peering up at him.

“What timings?” Alex put his hand on the pistol under his waistband as they entered an open space larger than two football fields, blindingly bright. Tens of thousands of seats wrapped around it; overhead, a high, arched ceiling seemed both transparent and solid – one moment plain white, the next showing dark clouds still spitting down rain.

Alex’s jaw tightened. Was it like that from the outside? All the angels had to do was fly over, and they’d figure out he was here in two seconds.

They were on a broad, raised platform. Though everything looked sleekly modern, there was a sense of immense age.

“Raziel always worries about the timings,” Miranda explained. “I mean, he did the last few times he was here. I thought it must be hard to get them right.”

Alex shook his head; he didn’t have a clue what she was talking about. “I’ll just have to take my chances.”

He saw to his alarm that his foot was bleeding; he’d left a smudged red trail all the way across the platform. He quickly shrugged out of his jacket and yanked off his damp T-shirt, ignoring the jab of bruised ribs. He bent down hastily, mopping up the blood, and then wrapped the shirt around his foot. He wasn’t going to lead them right to the gate, not if he could help it.

“All right, well…” Miranda bit her lip, and Alex realized she was reluctant to give away Raziel’s secret. She motioned towards a large twisting sculpture near the edge of the platform. “It’s very small, right under that first curve. Like a keyhole, but smaller.”

Alex lifted his consciousness through his chakras and probed. Apprehension touched him. “I can’t feel it.”

“No, I told you – Raziel keeps it hidden. But it’s there.”

Alex took her word for it; he didn’t have a choice. Pinpointing his consciousness again, just like he’d done all those weeks ago in his father’s house, he plunged it, needle-like, under the sculpture’s silver curve. Not the right place. He tried again. Not there either.

Suddenly Alex’s senses jolted with the dark feel of angel energy close by. They’d found him, hundreds of them – and judging from the distance, they were only a block away, heading straight for the Coliseum’s rear entrance.

Forcing himself to stay focused, Alex kept trying, aware of the seconds rushing past. The angels had almost reached the door now. He wasn’t going to make it.

He ignored the thought; at the same moment, he found a slight give in the ether.
There.
He shoved his consciousness through; this time the energy on the other side felt calm – homelike. Working fast, he started widening the hole.

He could feel that Raziel’s gate was much more efficient than Cully’s; to his relief, he had it open in seconds. Through it he could see only darkness.

He heard the distant sound of shouting. The angels were through the Coliseum door, streaming down the long hallway – they’d be here any moment. Alex turned quickly to Miranda, not knowing how to say thank you. He didn’t try. He reached for her hands; his own went through them, but he held on anyway, letting her tingling energy rush through him.

“You asked who I am,” he said hurriedly. “My name’s Alex; I’m in love with your daughter. And I promise you – I swear to you – I will make her happy for the rest of her life.”

Miranda looked close to tears, insubstantial at the edges again. “Thank you, Alex,” she whispered. “And when she tries to link with the energy field – she needs to do it in Pawntucket. There’s a place there where she can get through. It’s—”

Alex’s head jerked up as shouts reverberated just on the other side of the door.

“I’ve got to go,” he said in a rush. “You’d better go too, just in case.” He hastily kissed Miranda’s fading cheek, his lips brushing air – and then hurled himself through the opening.

Alex’s muscles were tight, ready for the same screaming agony as last time. It didn’t come. In a smooth, seamless motion, he was suddenly lying on a floor in the darkness, wincing only at the pain in his ribs. Silence – the gate had closed once more to a tiny pinprick behind him.

He sat up slowly, listening to the hard beating of his heart. There was no other sound. Why had it been so much easier coming through from the angels’ world? Maybe it was just that Cully hadn’t really known what he was doing.

Whatever; Alex wasn’t complaining. As he struggled to his feet, he could see a faint light: plastic runners darting along the floor. He was in the Denver Church of Angels cathedral, in an alcove formed by two pillars near the main doors. Down below, past aisles and aisles of seats, was where Willow had attempted to stop the Second Wave.

Willow. He let out a breath, hardly able to believe that he was really back – that with luck, he’d see her again in just a few days. Then, remembering what Miranda had said about Willow going to Pawntucket, he frowned, urgency pulsing through him.

A green
Exit
sign cast a glow over two tall silver doors. A trip alarm sat on top of them, its electronic eyes gleaming. Alex reached into his pocket for his penknife and craned upwards, slicing neatly through the alarm’s wire.

He swung open the door and stepped outside. Broad white steps shone in the moonlight. Faint unease stirred in Alex as he jogged down them, disregarding his injured foot. Moonlight? It hadn’t even been dark yet when he’d left the angels’ world. From out of nowhere came the memory of when the Third Wave had arrived – the glimpse of twilight through the gate while here it had been afternoon.

Raziel always worries about the timings now,
Miranda had said.

Okay, so time in the angels’ world was a few hours off from their own. Interesting, but not hugely relevant. He had to steal a car and get to Pawntucket as soon as possible.

He’d head north-east, he decided, to the main highway. There’d be plenty of Eden staff driving along that route – he’d steal a vehicle from one if it was the last thing he ever did.

Hang on, babe, I’m on my way,
he thought as he jogged across the dark parking lot. Pawntucket was almost two thousand miles away, across uncertain roads. But he’d get there, no matter what… And when he did, he knew that no power on earth would ever separate him from Willow again.

T
HE 4 X 4 TRUNDLED
steadily over the empty road.

When we’d left the lodge three mornings ago, I’d felt beyond relieved to see the blue skies overhead. Only about six inches of snow lay on the ground. The truck could handle that, if the good weather held.

Two weeks,
I kept thinking. Mentally counting back, I’d left the shopping mall nine days ago. If the angel I’d fought in the base corridor had been accurate, we still had five days before Raziel attacked.

It didn’t make me feel any more relaxed, even though we’d crossed the New York border that morning – and with luck, would be in Pawntucket in just four or five hours. I sat curled tensely in the passenger seat as Seb drove, staring out at the pointed, white-covered fir trees. It was so serene, like driving through a Christmas card.

The atmosphere inside the truck was quiet too, though not exactly serene. Seb and I were only speaking when we had to. I kept thinking of all the things I wanted to say and then biting them back. I didn’t want to argue any more.

The kiss between us had…not been a good idea.

At first, it had seemed perfect. We’d been propped against the bar, holding each other tight, our mouths hot and searching. I’d felt drunk with sensation as I caressed Seb’s warm back beneath his T-shirt, thinking,
Oh god, I’ve missed this – please don’t stop, Seb, don’t stop.
Above, our angels had explored each other too, just as they had the time we’d kissed in Tepito: a dizzying burst of energy as their winged forms met and merged.

And then it happened.

Our psychic link had faded some with our distance this past year. But now, with our angels’ energies so entwined, there were suddenly no secrets at all.

A girl with long auburn hair. The warmth of her smile – the sound of her laughter.

As images and knowledge swept through me, I stiffened. So did Seb; I think we both pulled away at the same moment. I stared at him in dismay, my pulse still hammering from the kiss, trying to get my head around what I’d sensed.

And then I saw that Seb was staring at me in the same way.

“What?” I whispered, swallowing.

The corner of his mouth lifted. There was no humour to it. “You are not ready for this,” he said. “So I think we had better forget it.”

It was the last thing I’d expected. “What? Seb, I
am
! It’s been over a year now. I—”

“It doesn’t matter; you’re still not over Alex.” He turned away and scooped up the sleeping bag, starting stiffly towards the fireplace.

Suddenly angry, I rushed after him and grabbed his arm. “Look, I’ll
always
love Alex – I never said I didn’t! But that’s got nothing to do with—”

He whirled towards me. “It’s got everything to do with it! He’s all you want. You don’t want me at all.”

“That’s…I…” I trailed off, feeling cold.

“The whole time—” Seb hurled the sleeping bag onto the sofa, hard. “How could I have been so
stupid
? I should have known that you just wanted a – a
substituto.
”

“I
didn’t
just want a substitute! Seb, I really care about you!”

“Not like that, and you know it,” he snapped back. “You’ve been feeling lonely – and then when I got hurt, it reminded you too much of when Alex died. You wanted
someone
– and lucky me, I was here!” He spread his arms out.

My voice was faint. “There was more to it than that.”

“No. There was not,” he said flatly. “My angel was part of yours, Willow – I
know.
”

I stood trembling, awash with shame as I realized he was right: it was really Alex I’d been longing for. I’d completely used Seb, even if I hadn’t meant to. Anger of my own followed. It was a lot easier than facing what I’d done…and the fact that I was nowhere near over Alex after all.

I crossed my arms tightly. “Yes, well – speaking of kissing one person and wanting another one, how about you?”

“
Me?
”

“Yes! You’re not the only one who got something psychically, all right? You’re in love with Meghan; you have been for months!”

Seb’s jaw dropped; his look of surprise was almost comical. “What are you talking about? I love
you
– I always have.”

My temper faded as we stared at each other. I shook my head. “No, Seb,” I said quietly. “You did once, but now it’s just a – a habit, a memory. It’s Meghan you’re in love with; you’ve just been so hung up on me that you couldn’t see it.”

His smile was hard. “I can see very well,
querida
– and you’re all I’ve ever wanted. Believe me, I wish it wasn’t true.”

“But it isn’t! Seb, I
know;
my angel was part of yours too. You’ve got me all built up in your mind like some kind of dream girl – that’s all it is.”

Dark anger clouded Seb’s face. “Let me tell you something,” he said. “I have sensed you since I was
six.
For fourteen years, I have loved you – since before I even knew what the word meant. You want Alex instead of me? Fine, I’m used to it. But do
not
tell me who I love.”

My voice rose in frustration. “Oh god, Seb, at least be honest with yourself! Why do you think you’ve been so unhappy these last few months? You’re miserable without Meghan! You love her so much that she’s like an ache inside of you—”

Seb looked as if he could have happily throttled me. Brushing past, he strode to the bar again. “Why don’t we eat and take a break from this very fascinating conversation?”

I blew out a breath. “Yes, why don’t we? Since you’re not listening to a word I say.”

It was the first hot meal we’d had in days. I don’t think either of us enjoyed it much. We sat at opposite ends of the sheepskin rug, eating in silence. The adrenalin from the argument had faded and now I just felt desolate.

Alex.

My throat tightened. Remembering my moment of peace gazing over the plains, I wanted to cry. I should have known by now: grief took three steps forward and two steps back. I longed for Alex so much that it hurt – and I was so tired of hurting. Dull fury at him stirred, that he was still putting me through this even after a year.

Seb had found some red wine behind the bar; he’d offered me a glass with a sardonic lift of his eyebrows. Now he sat drinking from his own glass, moodily contemplating the fire.

I stared down at my wine’s red glow. “Seb, look, I—”

He drained his glass. “Whatever you are going to say, I can live without it.”

Stung, I said, “I just wanted to tell you I’m sorry. I promise I didn’t mean to use you.”

Seb regarded me coolly, his eyes dark brown in the firelight. “Do you want the sofa or the rug?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“Then get up; you’re on my bed.”

Fine. I rose and went over to the sofa, where I snaked the sleeping bag out of its case. A few minutes later I was wrapped in its warmth, gazing into the fire.

The only sounds were the flames snapping and the faint whistle of the storm from outside. Seb had rolled himself up in the sheepskin rug; he lay with his hands linked under his head, glaring up at the ceiling.

I cleared my throat. “Listen, um…if it turns out that we can get out of here tomorrow, I’d like you to take the first car we can hotwire and go to Idaho.”

In a swift motion, Seb had propped himself up on one elbow. “What are you talking about?”

I shrugged, unable to meet his eyes. “I just don’t think it makes much sense for us both to be here, that’s all. One of us should go back and tell the others what’s happening.”

Seb snorted, his gaze raking over me. “Did I say you are blind? What you really are is
transparente.
No, Willow. I am not going to Idaho, no matter who you think I’m in love with.”

My hand twisted hard at the sleeping bag. “Seb,
please
! We don’t know what’s going to happen in Pawntucket, and I need to know you’re safe, at least – that you have a chance to be happy.”

“Ah, yes. Because you know what would make me happy.”

I was close to tears. “I
do
! Look, I know you don’t believe me yet, but you can still be with the person you love – and I can never have that again, not ever! Please don’t throw it away! If you come with me, you’ll probably die.”

His jaw hardened. “I am coming, Willow. There is nothing you can say to stop me.”

“But—”

Suddenly his voice was low, furious. “Listen to me! This isn’t just about saving your town any more. Something big is going to happen there – for the whole world. Since your psychic powers are so wonderful, do
not
tell me you don’t sense it.”

The moment froze: Seb with his chestnut curls tousled, the shadowy room around us. “Yes,” I admitted finally. “I’ve been feeling it too. For days now.”

He gave a hard, cynical smile and flopped back down onto the floor. “So it’s decided, yes? This is my fight too. Trust me, I would be here no matter what I feel for you.”

I didn’t bother mentioning Meghan this time. He’d thought it was me for so long – he just couldn’t see it yet.

Neither of us spoke again. I lay staring into the fire. And thinking about what might lie ahead, I swallowed…and hoped that Seb would have a chance to realize the truth for himself.

Now, three days later, Seb and I took turns driving through the snow-dusted Adirondacks. I gazed out the windshield as the familiar mountains glided past, trying to ignore the growing certainty that whatever waited ahead would impact on the whole world – but was going to be especially awful for me, personally.

When I wasn’t worrying about Pawntucket, I was aching for Alex. I felt utterly flattened, lonelier than I’d been in months. I’d thought I was moving on…and now this. As we drove, I reached for my mother, hugging the familiar feel of her close. Then I gently let go, glad for once that she wasn’t actually here.

By noon we’d reached the foothills north of Pawntucket.

I stopped the truck, and Seb and I got out. My hometown spread out below us like a picture postcard, so normal-looking that it made my skin prickle. Except that it was totally silent – I could sense only a handful of people.

Was Nina one? And did she, like the rest of the world, think I was a terrorist? Suddenly I remembered the time we drove down to New York City to see a concert – the way Nina and I had danced in the crowd. The thought of her turning against me made my stomach clench.

“So, I guess we’d better go check it out,” I said finally. Seb nodded.

As I opened the car door again, I stiffened, the keys gouging into my palm. It was that same weird sensation I’d felt at the abandoned house – as if I were the centre of the world, with everything straining towards me.

They all need me,
I thought dazedly. And then blinked, wondering what that even meant.

Before I could ask Seb if he’d felt it too, his eyes narrowed. He stood with one arm on top of the open passenger door, gazing to the south-east. “Angels,” he said.

When I sensed what he was picking up my breath caught. Angels – thousands of them – about thirty miles away. They were gathering, waiting; so many we could feel it even from this distance.

I glanced at Seb. “Schenectady’s an Eden now. They must be there.”

He threw himself into the truck. “Come – we’d better hurry.”

The familiar road was way worse than I remembered, but I went as fast as I could around potholes. Then as the first houses began to appear, I saw that things weren’t so normal in Pawntucket after all. A huge oak tree lay completely uprooted, and houses stood at weird slants, roofs and porches buckling.

Earthquake damage. I hadn’t realized until now that Pawntucket had had any tremors. I licked my lips, suddenly more apprehensive than ever. “Maybe we should stop and let our angels check things out,” I said.

“Yes, good,” Seb said shortly – and I knew that no matter how angry he still was, he would die to protect me, as I would do for him. I pulled off the road, and a heartbeat later our angels were flying over Pawntucket.

In the air I stared down in dismay. Some buildings looked almost normal; others leaned in all directions – walls crushed, front porches falling off. A Victorian house I’d always liked looked as if a giant’s fist had smashed down on it. One whole street had been razed to rubble; more trees lay on their sides, roots exposed.

Everything was so quiet. Where were the people? Gliding in the cold air, I turned on one wing and headed towards the centre of town with Seb beside me. From the old-fashioned town square, I saw the brick tower of the town hall. At least
it
looked intact.

Then as we flew over the square, figures appeared out of nowhere; they ran across the street and darted out of view. I stared after them. Wait, I
knew
them – knew all of them.

The bells of the town hall started pealing. “Attack!” shouted a voice.

But they shouldn’t be able to see us!
I thought – and then bullets were slicing past. I jerked backwards, wings flapping; Seb darted in front of me.
Seb, no!
I thought at him.

“They don’t have halos!” someone cried in frustration.

“Don’t let them get away!” yelled someone else.