Angel Fever (26 page)

I
KNEW THAT IT COULDN
’
T
be him. It couldn’t be. But my heart didn’t care.

“
Alex!
” I screamed, and it was as if I’d woken myself out of a trance. I lunged out from behind the house and started running as hard as I could, snow flying with every step as my feet pummelled the ground.

The boy’s head snapped up. “Willow!” he shouted.

In seconds he’d vaulted over the tree and was running towards me. This was a dream – it couldn’t be true.

When we reached each other, I threw myself into his arms. He caught me up hard, swinging me around in a circle.
Alex.
With a sob I clung to his neck, breathing him in.

“Oh god, I missed you – I missed you so much—” He gripped my head, scattering kisses across my face. As he clutched me close again, I pressed tight against him, tears starting down my cheeks. Warm flesh…his leather jacket…his T-shirt, smelling of dust and sweat. If I loosened my hold, I’d wake up to find he’d vanished, the same as after a hundred dreams.

My shoulders were shaking. “Hey, hey…” whispered Alex against my hair. “Oh, babe, don’t cry – I’m back now. Everything’s okay.”

I couldn’t answer. I just held on, trembling. He was
real.

“Oh, man! Are you Alex
Kylar
?”

I felt Alex keep one arm around me as he stretched out his hand to someone. “Yeah, who are you?”

“Scott Mason. Wow, this is just a complete honour. I can’t believe you’re really here—”

“Look, you’ve got problems,” broke in Alex. “I waited until the scouts were gone so they wouldn’t see me. Did you know you’ve got, like, three thousand angels waiting to attack just thirty miles away?”

My blood was pounding through my brain. I pulled away slightly, staring up at the strong lines of Alex’s face. It was more tanned than I recalled, his eyes looking very blue. This couldn’t be happening. Could not.

Scott had gone pale. “Scouts?”

“Yeah, what did you think?”

“I – I don’t know, but – we had some other angels this morning, kind of sneaking around town…”

Alex grimaced. “Let me guess; you killed them all. So they sent some others and stayed high this time, and found out you’ve got an alarm system and a bunch of sharpshooters in town. Nice one.”

Scott licked his lips. “Okay, but…they probably already knew that. One of our fighters got captured a few weeks ago.”

“It’s usually not a great idea to confirm their info,” Alex said dryly. “But at least they might assume you don’t know about the attack and think they can catch you unaware. You
did
already know about it, right?”

“Yeah, we’re busy planning right now – hey, you can help! A bunch of us are at the town hall…”

The world was tilting – I was sliding off its edge. Why wasn’t Scott surprised that Alex was still alive? But he hadn’t known he was dead. Which was real? Did Alex die, or not? Maybe this whole last year had just been a bad dream.

Alex glanced down at me then; his face creased in concern. “You go on,” he told Scott without looking at him. “We’ll catch up.”

Once Scott had left, Alex held me close. “I was so afraid of this,” he whispered. “Willow, you thought I’d died, didn’t you?”

“I—” My voice was faint.

Alex drew back to brush away my tears. Then he paused. My hair had tumbled down as I ran, and I saw him taking it in – felt his surprise.

I grasped his hand before he could speak. He still wore the woven bracelet I’d given him, bright against his tanned wrist. “How are you alive?” I choked out. “
How?
”

His brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”

Somehow I managed to put coherent sentences together. “That day – the day that you left – Sam and I went after you. When we reached the New Mexico camp, the entire centre exploded. There was nothing left.”

The blood drained from Alex’s face. “You were
there
for that?”

“Alex, I felt it…I felt you die…”

The memory was like my soul being shredded. Alex wrapped his arms around me again. “Oh god, Willow, I am so sorry,” he said, his voice fervent. “I’ve been in the angels’ world. That’s why you couldn’t sense me.”

“The angels’ world?” I repeated in a daze. “But – why didn’t you tell me that’s what you were doing?”

“Because—” His throat moved as he swallowed. “Because I was pretty sure that just the attempt to get there would kill me,” he said roughly. “I don’t think I could have forced myself to go otherwise.”

I stared at him, trying to get the words to make sense. He clasped my hands between his, his skin warm, familiar. “Willow, I’m sorry. I know what these last few weeks must have been like for you. God, if it was you, I’d—”

“
Weeks?
” I interrupted. Suddenly my heart was battering at my chest. “Wait, wait – is that what you said?”

“Yeah. Over three weeks…” Alex trailed off, taking in my long blonde hair again. When he’d left, my hair was still brown, just past my shoulders.

His face paled.

We stared at each other.
Three weeks.
The year of grief, bleak and sharp as winter, rose up in a grey crest and threatened to drown me. “Alex, no,” I got out finally. “It…it was longer.”

He touched a strand of my hair and stroked it slowly down its length. When he spoke again his voice was thick with dread. “How long?”

“Over a year.”

He shook his head. “No,” he breathed. “No way.”

“It’s true. You’ve been gone exactly one year and eleven days.”

For a second Alex looked as if he might pass out. “The Edens,” he murmured, pressing his hands to his temples. His knuckles were white. “I kept seeing all these new Edens on my way here – I didn’t get how we could have missed so many, back at the base…”

I couldn’t respond. Alex gave a short, disbelieving laugh. “Jesus, I can’t – I can’t even get my head around this—” His fist tightened. With his other hand, he gently cupped my cheek, his touch so familiar that it hurt.

“You thought I was dead all this time,” he whispered.

I wanted to hug him; I wanted to hit him. Hugging won. With a moan, I wrapped my arms around his waist and pressed close. He held me tight – I felt his lips brush my head. “I am never leaving you again,” he said in a low voice. “Willow, I swear it.”

“
Alex!
” called someone.

We pulled apart as Seb jogged to a halt beside us; Nina and Jonah stopped behind him, looking blank with surprise. Seb stood gaping, his cheeks white. “Scott told us, but…but how…” he stammered.

“I was in the angels’ world,” Alex said, holding out his hand to Seb. “For only a few weeks, I thought.”

For a long moment, Seb stayed motionless, staring dumbly. “You’re really alive,” he murmured at last.

Suddenly a broad grin split his face. “You’re alive!” he shouted, ignoring Alex’s hand and pulling him into a back-slapping hug. “Ah, you
cabrón,
I could kill you for this – but it’s so good to see you again,
mi amigo.
”

“Thanks. You too.” Alex’s voice was gruff as they drew apart.

Nina glanced at me, eyes wide. “Is this really—?”

I gave a small nod. “This is Alex…my boyfriend.” I tried to laugh; a sort of gasp came out. “He’s alive after all. Alex, this is Nina. You remember, I—”

“Hey, yeah – Willow’s told me a lot about you.” He extended his hand.

Nina looked lost for words as she shook it. “Well, I – I hope to hear a lot about you too.”

Jonah offered his own hand. “You probably don’t even remember me, but—”

“Jonah?” broke in Alex. “Yeah, I remember. What are you doing
here
?”

Jonah and Seb helped Alex drag the tree away so he could get his truck through; as they did, Jonah gave him a quick rundown on what had been happening. Alex stopped in his tracks. “Immune to the angels?” he said sharply. “Why?”

My eyes begged Jonah not to go into their strange theory about me. I couldn’t deal with it right now, not on top of everything else. “It’s…kind of a long story,” Jonah said, glancing at me. “Maybe we should get back and start planning first.”

Alex’s blue-grey eyes found mine and held them. And I knew that planning an attack was the last thing on the planet he wanted to be doing. “Yeah,” he said tersely. “I guess we’d better.”

We parked at the elementary school and walked to the square. Alex had on a pair of old work boots that I’d never seen before. He wove his fingers through mine, his dark hair falling across his forehead, just the same as always.

“Willow, listen, I’ve got to talk to you when we have a minute,” he said in an undertone. “I found out something in the angels’ world that – well, we’ve got to talk.”

Every time I looked at him, it was like worlds colliding, reality turned upside down. Just the feel of his fingers against mine was indescribable. I wanted to be alone with him so badly it hurt.

I nodded, still reeling. “Yes, um – talking would be good.”

We made our way through crowds of people hanging out on the snowy front lawn of the town hall: all my old Pawntucket High classmates. I could sense their tension over the scouting angels – then their excitement at seeing Alex and me.

“Go, Angel Killers!” shouted someone, and there were actually cheers.

Part of me was sure this was a dream. When we reached the room with the shortwave radio, everyone was relieved by Alex’s presence but not really surprised. No one but Nina and Jonah had known he’d died.

No, he didn’t die,
I corrected myself, gazing at Alex’s face as he studied the map. He’d been alive this whole time.

It had all just…been a mistake.

Scott was briefing Alex on their defence strategy. I could feel Alex’s forced concentration – his desire to get me on my own. “Yeah, attacking from the roofs is good, but it leaves your vanguard fighters pretty exposed,” he said. “What you should also have are bombs you can detonate from the ground.”

“
Bombs?
” Scott stared. “Uh…we don’t exactly have that kind of technology.”

“Yeah, you do – bombs are easy.” Alex started drawing on the side of the map, his hand moving in quick, sure strokes. “Look: this is a nail bomb.”

He described how to make it; the materials were all commonplace. “You put it on a roof, then shoot at it from the ground as the angels appear. The nails will explode thirty feet up in the air, like bullets – any that hit a halo will take an angel out.”

Excitement crackled through the room. “Oh,
yes,
” Rachel cried. “We have definitely got nails here!”

“I can help with the bombs.” Seb seemed to be avoiding looking at her. “At the
reformatorio,
a boy there taught us how to make them.”

“Will five days be enough for all this, though?” Nina put in anxiously.

Alex’s eyebrows shot up; he tossed the pen aside. “Five days, with scouts here just an hour ago? No way. We’ll be lucky as hell to get two.”

“But…” Nina glanced at me in alarm.

The dreamlike feeling had turned nightmarish. There was no way Pawntucket could prepare that fast. “We were supposed to have five more days,” I faltered.

“I’ve got some information that might help, with luck.” Alex’s eyes met mine. Without looking away, he said, “You guys go and get started.” Then he seemed to catch himself. “Sorry, I’m not trying to take over – I’m just used to being in charge.”

Scott barked out a laugh. “Dude, you are
Alex Kylar.
I think I speak for everyone here when I say:
Please
take over.”

Alex smiled thinly. “Okay, if you all agree. Jonah, you and Scott tell everyone what the plan is, then get started fortifying the houses and making the bombs; we don’t have any time to lose. Willow…I’ve got to talk to you. Alone.”

R
AZIEL HAD ARRIVED IN
S
CHENECTADY
Eden earlier than planned – and though his church quarters here were as luxurious as all his others, he found it impossible to relax; this particular church was too full of associations. It had been here where Willow and her assassin boyfriend had first met. Here, too, where Paschar had died, blasted into oblivion by Kylar’s bullet on the front steps.

I don’t believe in omens,
Raziel reminded himself darkly.

He was sitting in his church office, going over the list of angels who’d accompanied Bascal on the Nevada attack. Part of him wanted to strike against Pawntucket immediately, especially given the scouts’ report. Caution made him wait. It all came down to Willow, somehow – who had almost certainly slipped through the net in Nevada.

One of the angels on this list knew how. And when Raziel had finished with them, they’d be begging to share all they knew.

A knock came. Raziel frowned to see Bascal come in – late, of course. The little thug looked disgustingly pleased with himself, despite his utter failure to do away with Fields and Kylar.

“Everyone’s here,” Bascal said, sprawling in a lushly upholstered chair. “Over five thousand. The place won’t support them much longer – but then we’ll be attacking soon, right?”

“When I’m ready,” muttered Raziel, going back to the list. He shoved it across to Bascal. “Who do you think?”

Bascal leaned forward; without asking, he plucked a silver pen from the desk. “Not these guys,” he said, crossing names off. “They were all part of the main attack. But some went looking for other AKs while we finished up in the training room.”

A map of the base lay on the desk; Raziel tapped his lower lip as he studied it. “Did you search down these corridors? Especially this one.” He indicated the route to the garage. Maddeningly, Bascal hadn’t taken an inventory of the vehicles in the place before he’d torched it.

Bascal nodded. “Six or seven did, but most of them were killed. Zaran’s the only one who made it back – he says that corridor was empty.”

Zaran. Raziel’s dark gaze narrowed. Not someone he knew well, though Zaran was one of the angels who’d also enjoyed human energy, back before all angelkind came here. Unusually private, even for an angel – when they’d all been linked, the joke had been that you couldn’t even get the weather from Zaran’s thoughts.

“You know, I think I’d like to have a little chat with Zaran,” mused Raziel.

Bascal’s eyes glinted. “
That
guy, huh? You know, I never did like him. He’s sneaky.”

“Go get him,” Raziel ordered. “Don’t let him know what’s going on – and bring some backup.”

“Will do.” Bascal rose; as he turned to leave, he paused and reached into his pocket. “Oh – almost forgot. Present for you.” He tossed a small framed picture onto Raziel’s desk with a clatter.

Raziel stiffened with unpleasant surprise. Willow as a small child, smiling up through the branches of a weeping willow tree. “Where did you get this?”

Bascal grinned. “At the base – found it in one of the bedrooms that wasn’t destroyed. Thought you might want it. Spoil of war and all that.”

A willow tree.
The
willow tree, presumably: it would have been just like Miranda to take her there. “Thank you so much,” Raziel said with distaste. “Anything else?”

Bascal pulled out a folded piece of paper and handed it over. “Kinda sweet, huh?” he sneered. “Wouldn’t have thought Kylar was the poetic type.”

Raziel opened out the well-worn page.
My home is in your touch and in your eyes…
He made a face. “No, quite,” he said, tossing it aside. It was the photo that kept drawing him; his daughter’s joyful smile was mesmerizing.

“We’ve got a date with Zaran,” he reminded Bascal. The other angel saluted ironically.

Once he’d left, Raziel leaned back in his chair. The office around him was decorated in quiet good taste: golds and browns; leather and soft fabrics. He scarcely noticed it. He picked up the photo, studying Willow’s face with an intense frown. So like her mother.

He shook his head. He couldn’t believe now that he’d ever been so smitten by a human woman; the week Miranda had spent away from college with her grandparents had dragged into infinity, so that he’d actually travelled up from New York City to this backwater region just to savour her again. That must have been the time it happened, since she’d been so revoltingly sentimental as to name the child “Willow”.

The photo’s appearance
now
of all times was unnerving. It forcibly brought back his dreams of Miranda – her face, gazing up at him.
You know, I’m often confused now…

Raziel’s teeth gritted.
The dreams mean nothing,
he reminded himself. Miranda was dead; before that she’d been catatonic. She could not be haunting him.

Their child was a different matter.

“You were wise to run, my daughter,” Raziel murmured to the blonde, smiling girl. He stroked a finger over the frame. “But you can’t run fast enough. I’ll find you very soon – you, and whatever powers you’re hiding.”