Текст книги "Angel Fever"

Автор книги: L. A. Weatherly

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Текущая страница: 12 (всего у книги 26 страниц)

16

RAZIEL GLIDED OVER THE RUINS of Chicago, his winged shadow growing larger and then smaller as mounds of rubble rose and fell beneath him. The remains of Navy Pier lay half submerged in Lake Michigan, the girders of a Ferris wheel rusting where they reared up from the water. As Raziel circled it, lyrics from the old human song went through his head: Chicago, that toddling town…

Scattered through the wreckage were campfires and makeshift shelters. Raziel took in a shattered Dunkin’ Donuts: inside were camp beds, stacks of canned food. He’d never understood why some humans were so determined to stay in the ruins of the destroyed cities, but their energy tended to be quite delicious.

Cruising over a few people fishing with makeshift poles, he chose a man with a ponytail and an aura of vibrant blue. Scant moments later, the fishing pole had been dropped and the man was gaping up at him.

“Keith, you okay?” said someone.

Keith blinked as Raziel, sated, finally withdrew. “The angels love us,” he murmured, and then began shouting, scrambling up the debris-covered bank. “Guys, you guys! We’ve all been wrong! We need to go to an Eden and let them take care of us—”

Raziel was already soaring away. Inspecting a new Eden being built in Joliet had given him the chance to come here and indulge, to take his mind off things: there was nothing like the energy of a free thinker. Even so, he had plans to clamp down soon on the humans who resisted his Edens – their failure to comply irked him.

Failure to comply brought Kara Mendez to mind; he scowled as the half-finished walls of the new Eden came into view.

When it had come time to transport Kara to Salt Lake Eden, Raziel had, just as he’d planned, engineered things so that she could make a run for it. For if Willow and the others were still alive, why not let feisty little Kara lead him to them? If they weren’t, it would be simple to recapture Kara and present her to the Salt Lake hordes after all.

Except that it hadn’t been simple – because her microchip hadn’t worked.

He’d been in his Denver office when he got the news. “It what?” he’d asked, stunned.

“It, um…appears to have malfunctioned,” repeated the miserable lackey at the other end. “She got away like you told us, but now there’s no trace of her.”

“How?” Raziel had demanded from between clenched teeth.

“We don’t know. I promise, sir, we’ve had no problems at all with these chips before. It’s as if she was…was protected from it somehow—”

He’d hung up, uninterested in pointless excuses. And scarcely an hour later, he’d authorized for that particular lackey to enter the general feeding pool. No point sheltering an imbecile.

That had been over six months ago; no sign of Kara since. Not technically a defeat – hardly anyone knew he’d had her – but it grated.

More than grated, it was unnerving: far too reminiscent of other things that seemed to be slipping from his control. There were definitely murmurs of dissent now from the other angels. Not many, perhaps, but enough to bother him, enough for him to keep Bascal’s force well-maintained and ready to defend his empire at a moment’s notice. Yet he did not want this to happen. For if there was civil war, then what exactly would he be left in charge of?

It won’t happen – they wouldn’t be that stupid, Raziel told himself, and wished he believed it. He glided into the high, peaked roof of the newly completed church and changed back to his human self. He was now in a luxurious apartment of muted blues and golds, with an office adjacent. In every Eden, they completed the church first, with special quarters for him.

He went to the bathroom and splashed water on his face. He studied himself.

Seven months after the Separation, he was finally getting used to the silence inside his head. But some angels had refused to try – the loss of their psychic connection on top of the Council members’ deaths had apparently been too much.

Raziel had seen footage of one of the now-infamous “final parties”: a group of over twenty angels, at first simply enjoying a lavish gathering. Then they’d all stood in a circle, their shining wings touching, and one by one had stated their names:

I am Vardan. I cannot live this way.

I am Dascar. I cannot live this way.

And at a given signal, each angel had taken a knife and reached for the halo of the angel next to them.

There’d been dozens of these suicide parties; maybe more that Raziel hadn’t heard about. Cowards, he thought, his lip curling. He should have left them in the angels’ world to rot along with the dissenters – see how they felt about being separated when they realized they were slowly dying along with the ether. They’d have been howling before he even closed the gate, just like the abandoned angels who’d opposed him had surely done.

He strode restlessly to the living room. The view featured cranes and bulldozers. No other angels yet – most stayed strictly to the completed Edens, still fearful to venture out unless in groups. When they weren’t feeding, many spent their time huddled together, talking and talking – fervently sharing their every thought in an attempt to recreate psychic closeness.

“A little ironic, isn’t it?” he’d snapped at Therese when he’d discovered her in one of these sessions. “Before, we spent all our time trying to hide our thoughts from each other.”

Therese was beautiful, as all angels were, but now her eyes looked tormented. “I know you understand, Raziel… Don’t act like you don’t,” she whispered. “You’re as much an angel as any of us. Even if you pretend not to be.”

“I pretend nothing – and I’m a better angel than you,” he’d replied coldly. “At least I have enough pride not to wallow in this like a pig in muck.”

The demoralized angels were bad enough; the ones who muttered against him – who gathered in small groups that went silent when he appeared, their eyes hard and secretive – were even worse. Raziel had new, grudging respect for the human leaders of old; how had anyone ever managed to stay in power, not having any idea what those around them were thinking? Without knowing who to trust?

His cellphone went off: Lauren. “Yes?” he answered tersely.

Though Lauren had lasted longer than any of his other human girls, her voice was still weaker than it used to be. “Raziel, someone named Gallad called. There’s trouble in Mexico City.”

He frowned. “What kind of trouble?”

“I’m not sure; it has to do with that Eden they built in Teotihuacán. He said to tell you they’ve found six more people like – wait, I wrote down the name.” There was a pause; Raziel scowled out the window, tapping his fingers. Lauren came back.

“Like Kara Mendez,” she said.

Raziel stiffened. Mexico City. Kara was there. So was Willow. The puzzle pieces made no sense but seemed darkly ominous.

“I’m on my way home now – call Gallad back and tell him I’ll contact him very soon,” Raziel ordered. The only phone network currently linked to Mexico was in Denver.

The main roads between Illinois and Colorado were new and smooth; he made the trip as quickly as possible, blasting Prokofiev all the way – his own trick for combating the inner silence. When he entered his penthouse, a sunset was touching the Rockies with fire. Lauren stood waiting, her lovely face tired but relieved.

“Oh, good, you’re back,” she murmured, wrapping him in a hug.

As Raziel returned it, he was disturbed to realize how natural her body felt against his – her body, not just any human woman’s. He’d gotten far too used to Lauren.

He stepped away. “Get me the phone,” he ordered.

A brief conversation later, he was no more enlightened. Near the remains of Mexico City, an Eden had been built around ancient Aztec ruins, its residents the survivors from the Mexico City quake. Gallad had moved down there some months ago – one of the few angels who knew about Kara Mendez.

“And you’re sure they’re like Mendez?” Raziel demanded, pacing the living room.

“Well, they’re nowhere near as stoic, but they can’t be fed from and don’t seem affected by our touch,” said Gallad, sounding uncharacteristically shaken. “I guess we can’t really know if they’re resistant to being read psychically, though – since that particular angelic skill is so feeble now.”

Raziel ignored the implied criticism. “They haven’t just been marshalled somehow?”

“No, it’s more than that. It’s not just that they’re unpalatable; they can’t be fed from. It’s as if we’re forcibly expelled when we try.”

Just like Kara indeed. Feeling a stirring of something almost like fear, Raziel stared out at the last sliver of sun. “Who are they, anyway? Did they have any connection with the Angel Killers?”

“Not as far as we can tell. A lot of them are students; they’re all fairly young. Plus there’s a store clerk, a waiter – no one special.”

“All right, I want this kept as quiet as possible,” Raziel said finally. “Keep them isolated and study them. Figure out what’s going on, do you hear me?”

“We’ll try,” said Gallad. “But, Raziel, what if this doesn’t stop?”

“What do you mean?” he said sharply.

“You know what things are like in the angel community now. If our very food starts turning against us, so that we can’t survive here…” Raziel could almost see Gallad’s uneasy shrug. “It would be like…a judgement.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” hissed Raziel. “A judgement from whom? We are the only gods in this world, Gallad – and don’t you forget it. Keep the humans isolated, and do away with them if studying doesn’t prove useful.”

“All right,” Gallad said after a pause. “I hope you’re right.”

“Ah, little Miranda…you’re beautiful, you know. Even when the confusion is all that’s left, you’ll still be beautiful…”

In the dimly lit room, Raziel opened his eyes and held back a curse at his own remembered words, echoing in his head. He was sleeping less and less now – and though he hated admitting it to himself, he knew this was why: to avoid the dream that still haunted him.

Damn it, Miranda was dead – why was this happening? He’d never cared in the least before what he’d done to her; she’d loved every second. Nor did he care now, except that the vivid dreams of the two of them under the willow tree felt as if she were seeking revenge from the grave.

Raziel swallowed, realizing that this was not all. If he checked the earth’s energy field, he’d like as not also pick up that vague sense again of something unaware, yet powerful.

I’m going mad, he thought. He sat up, his fists tight. Lauren lay asleep beside him; for a moment he’d forgotten all about her. Now his eyes narrowed as he took her in. Though he had two other girls living with him – both stunning – he’d given in to the urge to just have Lauren that night. She was familiar, comforting.

His favourite.

Lauren stirred drowsily and opened her eyes. “Is everything all right?” she whispered.

Seeing again Miranda’s uplifted face and vivid green eyes, Raziel scowled. No, it isn’t, he told himself. Becoming too attached to any one human was a mistake. And this, at least, he could control.

He flung back the covers and crossed to the dresser, where his cellphone was; he clicked a number on speed dial. “I need an A1 removed from my apartment immediately – she’s being demoted to A2,” he said. Lauren gasped and sat straight up; her brown eyes locked on Raziel’s as he continued: “Yes, a replacement would be good, thanks – maybe a redhead this time.”

He hung up. Lauren had begun to cry. “Raziel, what did I do wrong?”

His fleeting urge to comfort her was proof that this had been long overdue. “Nothing. Everything,” he said, and strode from the room.

17

FOR MONTHS I’D WAKE UP in the morning and not remember. I’d stretch my arm across the bed, drowsily looking for Alex, and touch only empty sheets. Then the truth would come back, crushing me under its weight.

Every morning for months, without fail.

I’d get up. Take a shower. Get dressed. See, I’m functioning just like a normal person. After a while I reached Advanced Normality and even managed to smile occasionally – though it never quite reached my eyes. People were nice; they always asked about me. How are you doing, Willow? Are you all right? Over and over, until the words pounded at my skull.

No. I’m not all right.

As more months passed, I finally stopped expecting to feel Alex next to me when I woke up. Now his death was the first thing that hit me, even before conscious thought: a dark, cold emptiness, as if something had gnawed away at my insides.

There wasn’t a moment of the day when I didn’t miss him. I missed him in the morning, kissing me awake. I missed eating meals with him. Missed talking to him at night; seeing him walk around the bedroom wearing only a towel. His jeans lying in a heap on the floor, and the way his hair had stuck up in all directions when he first woke up.

I missed making love with him. So much that it ached.

People kept telling me it got better with time. I hated hearing that – as if time could magically erase what I was feeling. Finally, though, they stopped saying it. And I realized that the “time” they kept talking about had passed, and I was supposed to be over Alex by now.

Meanwhile, I kept working.

Things at the base were busier than ever. I immersed myself, tried to drown myself in activity. Destroying the angels had never seemed so important – never.

The first simulation we ran without Alex was a disaster. People were all over the place, shooting at anything that moved. Sam did his best to give direction afterwards, but he was no Alex. Gradually, though, people started settling down and getting used to Sam…and he got more used to being in charge. He began turning into a good, solid leader.

We started recruiting again, venturing into the dark towns to convince people to join us. It was tricky work; you had to be so careful who you chose to speak to. And while we brought in tiny handfuls of new AKs and trained our troops with enough skills to maybe, perhaps, keep them alive…Raziel kept gleefully announcing new Edens.

Knoxville Eden. Duluth Eden. San Antonio Eden.

Whenever I heard him urge everyone “still huddling in the cold and dark” to come to an Eden and be safe, I wanted to hit something. Safe. Right. And when they’d drained you dry, they’d just shove you in a warehouse.

The Voice of Freedom kept broadcasting too. Whoever it was had guessed a lot – they always stressed the need to break away if the angels linked with you and to carry a weapon at all times.

“The Angel Killers were our saviours, not our enemies,” said the husky voice. “Go for the halo, like they did. Do anything you can to get away if you’re attacked.”

Sometimes people in dark towns had actually heard the Voice – and it paved the way for them to listen to us. When that happened, I silently thanked the mysterious broadcaster. We were on the same team, even if we’d never met.

Sam and I spent countless hours together going over Alex’s plans – and also, I guess, because of what we’d been through together. Usually he was as predictable as the tides – but once, as we were discussing what set to build next, I glanced up to find him studying me with a frown.

“Don’t you ever think about anything except fighting the angels any more?” he asked suddenly.

I froze, the pen I’d been taking notes with locked in my grip. “What are you talking about?”

Sam’s blue gaze raked over me. His voice was harsh. “I’m talkin’ about the fact that it’d be kind of nice to see you smile again, angel chick. It’s been six months, you know that? And you’re still just…gone.”

What’s there to smile about? I nearly said. I looked down at the piece of paper I’d been writing on. Of course I knew it had been six months. I knew it down to the day, the hour. Almost the second.

“I smile,” I said finally. My voice was dead. “And we’re not exactly down here to have fun, remember?”

I could sense Sam’s frustration that his physical strength couldn’t fix this – knew how much he wanted to argue, to shout me down and force me to snap out of it. Instead he hesitated…and then reached over and awkwardly squeezed my hand.

He didn’t mention it again.

Seb stayed on at the base, despite what I’d said to him. I noticed him and Meghan together sometimes – once in the rec room late at night, on a sofa in a dim corner. Seb was holding Meghan in his arms with her back against his chest, his curly head bowed against her neck. As I watched she reached up to stroke his shoulder, her love for him so clear that I felt like an intruder.

I left quickly, before they noticed I was there. To my shame, jealousy was prickling at me again – not of Meghan this time, but of both of them, for the simple fact that they could hold each other.

Great, I thought, wiping my eyes as I reached my room. Was I going to turn into some bitter old crone now, who hated seeing anyone happy? I undressed mechanically and crawled into bed – and without thinking, I reached out to my mother. It had become such a habit since Alex died. Sometimes I spent hours now curled up in the feel of her, telling her things in my mind.

Mom, this hurts so much, I thought bleakly, hugging myself. I’d give anything if I could just hold him one more time. But I knew she’d never answer, no matter how much I needed her to. Neither would Alex.

As I finally drifted into an exhausted sleep, I thought, Seb had better realize how lucky he is.

At least we only taught one class together now – I’d told him I thought it would be more efficient if we taught separately. His mouth had twisted wryly at that, as if there was some joke I wasn’t in on. “Fine, querida – whatever you want.”

The way he said “querida” didn’t sound like an endearment any more. I didn’t care; I was just relieved to not have to see him as much – to not be reminded of my moment of jealousy on the dance floor. Whenever I did see him, we were always very polite…and his hazel eyes remained distant.

Kara had stayed on too. She was quieter than she used to be – fiercer. She helped out with simulations and in the firing range, but kept to herself. Her body was slimly muscular again, her face as exotically beautiful as before. Half the guys in the place had crushes on her. Not that any of them dared to get close.

The two of us were never going to be friends. She didn’t like me, and it was mutual. But we managed to work together civilly enough – and I had the feeling that we were trying to get along for Alex’s sake.

The only time she showed any vulnerability was once in the war room. I’d gone in to update the map of known Edens but stopped short when I saw her: she was sitting at the table with a fist against her mouth, regarding the map with a hopeless expression.

She straightened. “Oh. It’s you.”

“Yeah, I just…” I cleared my throat. I went over to the map and started putting in new pins by way of explanation.

Saratoga Eden. Eugene Eden. Toledo Eden.

My neck prickled and I turned. Kara sat motionless, her gaze still locked on the map. Suddenly she rose and came over. She fiddled with the pin for Austin Eden as if she’d love to pull it out but didn’t quite have the nerve.

“This is so stupid,” she said in a low voice. “I just can’t seem to leave it behind. I mean, look.”

She drew out a slim wallet from her jeans pocket and flipped it open. I stared. Inside was an ID card showing the familiar image of a gleaming angel with wings outspread. In the centre was a photo of Kara’s face. Mia Sanchez, resident of Austin Eden, said the flowing script.

“You’d think I’d never want to see the damn thing again.” She shoved it back in her pocket. “But I can’t throw it away. It’s like it’s a part of me…” She trailed off, staring at the flag. Her eyes were almost fearful.

I knew that later she was going to hate that she’d confided in me. I licked my lips. “You’ve, um…heard the latest, I guess. About the army starting to forcibly relocate entire dark towns to the Edens.”

Her gaze snapped to mine. Her voice quavered. “Yeah. ‘For their own safety’. Your old man’s all heart, Willow.”

She turned and left. I let out a breath as the door closed – and knew I wasn’t the only one haunted by memories.

Even so, my “normal” act must have been getting better as time passed. One day in early summer, one of our new recruits fell into step beside me as I walked down the corridor.

“Hey,” he said with a grin, holding out his hand. “I’m Grant – one of your students. I’ve only been here a couple of days.”

I nodded, bemused, as we shook. “I know.” About my age, floppy brown hair. If he’d gone to Pawntucket High, he’d have been one of the popular guys on the basketball team.

Our footsteps echoed as he walked beside me. Grant cleared his throat. “So, I’m pretty intrigued by this half-angel stuff. Are you really the only one?”

I glanced at him, my forehead furrowed. “No. There’s Seb too. You’ve met him.”

“Oh – yeah. No, I meant the only girl half-angel.”

“I guess. No one really knows.”

“Cool,” he said, nodding slowly. “That must be amazing, to be so…unique.”

I shrugged and walked faster, a little unsettled by the way his gaze stayed on me. He caught up with me easily; this time his grin had an embarrassed tinge. “I’m not doing too great, am I? Should I start over and try to be more suave this time?”

I stopped in my tracks. “What?” I said stupidly.

Grant looked confused. “Sorry, I didn’t mean…I just think you’re really pretty, and I’d like to get to know you better, that’s all. You’re not already with someone, are you? I hadn’t noticed you hanging out with anybody, so I thought…”

He trailed off when he saw the expression on my face. My throat had gone dry. No, I’m not with someone. I couldn’t say the words – wouldn’t have said them for anything. I reached up and touched my crystal pendant, gripping it hard.

“I’m sorry – I’ve got to go,” I said roughly.

In August we sent out our first groups of AKs.

Over fifty drove away in trucks bristling with supplies, honking jubilantly as they went. I watched with grim pride, praying that they could get camps established and start sniping at the angels without being caught. That had been Alex’s main concern, I knew.

I tried not to worry about it and plunged back into work. We will destroy them, I kept telling myself.

“How are you doing?” asked Liz. We were sitting in a corner of the busy rec room, drinking terrible instant coffee.

I gave a tired shrug. “A little on edge since the teams left, I guess.” We’d known we wouldn’t hear from them; it was still unnerving as the days passed.

Liz hesitated. “Me too, but…that’s not what I meant.”

Hardly anyone asked me any more. Alex had been dead since November, so obviously I was over him, right? I looked down, twisting my coffee mug on the table.

“I don’t know,” I admitted. “The first few months were complete hell. Now I keep thinking that maybe I’m not doing too badly…and then it all hits me again, and it’s even worse than before.” I stared down at the battered white mug; finally I sighed and pushed it away.

“I miss him, Liz,” I whispered. “I miss him so much.”

“I know,” she said softly.

For a while, neither of us spoke. Then Liz glanced up; following her gaze, I saw Meghan leaving the room. Seb had appeared in the doorway at the same time – and for a second neither seemed to know what to do. Finally Meghan sort of nodded and went past, not really looking at him.

“What’s up with them?” I asked.

Liz’s head whipped around as she stared at me. “Are you kidding?” she asked after a pause. “Willow, they’ve broken up.”

“What? Since when?” I looked back at Seb; he stood talking with a group of guys. His stubbled face had that neutral look I knew so well.

Liz shook her head. “I don’t know, a few weeks ago? Seriously, how can you not know this? You and Seb teach a class together!”

“Yes, but we don’t…” I frowned, casting my mind back. When had I seen Seb and Meghan curled up on the sofa together? Hadn’t that been just recently? No, I realized, not really. Maybe three or four months ago. And now that I thought about it, Seb had been different lately – quiet, moody. The charming Seb who flirted with all the girls was long gone.

“We don’t talk much,” I finished lamely.

Liz and I went quiet as Seb came over. “Willow, can I speak to you?” he asked, his voice flat. “We need to decide about our classes.”

Our classes had had uneven numbers since the teams left; with more new recruits coming in, we needed to decide who was doing what. Seb had been trying to corner me about it for a couple of weeks – and suddenly I had a feeling I knew why.

I nodded, my thoughts still tumbling. “Yeah, fine. Let’s go into the office; we can use the computer.”

As we headed down the hallway, for the first time in a long time I was aware of just how heavy the silence felt between us. I glanced at Seb. His profile looked set in stone.

In the office, I sat down at the desk and brought up the student lists on the screen. “Do you want to pull up a chair?” I asked.

Seb rolled over a spare office chair, and I moved my own aside to make room. Once our two auras would have mingled companionably; now each was drawn in against our bodies, only touching at the edges where there was no choice. Sitting this close, though, I could smell Seb’s clean, woodsy scent. It brought back so many memories of being his friend – of talking for hours. A faint wistfulness stirred through me.

Seb pulled some notes from his back pocket. His handwriting was small and precise, the words a mix of Spanish and English.

“What about the first morning class?” he said, impatiently pushing the chestnut curls off his forehead. “I think Heather and Lisa should be in yours – they don’t seem to be getting it with me; they always go so far, but no further.”

“Fine.” I cut and pasted their names from one list to the other. “Could you take Richard, though? I think he might do better having a guy for a teacher.”

We made our way through the student lists, our exchanges completely impersonal. For so many months, this had been exactly what I wanted. Now I found myself wondering if avoiding Seb had become only a habit. Maybe, I thought tiredly. It didn’t really matter – I couldn’t see things ever being the same between us after so long.

On the list for Seb’s afternoon advanced class, Meghan’s name seemed more brightly lit than the others. I had to bite my tongue not to ask. Finally, frowning down at the paper in his hand, Seb said, “And I think Meghan might be happier with you.”

I moved her without comment. But remembering the two of them on the sofa together, anger stirred. He’d had something really good with her; it was obvious. Why hadn’t he tried harder?

The thought made me coldly furious for some reason. “So maybe you and Meghan should have left here together after all,” I said, still looking at the screen as I typed.

Seb had never had any problem filling in the blanks. His head snapped up, and though his hazel eyes stayed expressionless, the gold flecks in them suddenly seemed to glitter. He folded up the paper and shoved it in his jeans pocket.

“Let me tell you something,” he said as he stood up. “I did not stay here because of you. I stayed because I promised Alex. If I hadn’t, then I would have left months ago, and to hell with this place. And, yes, who knows – maybe things would have worked out with Meghan then. Is there anything else you’d like to discuss?”

I was already regretting, deeply, that I’d said anything. “I’m sorry,” I said. “It’s none of my business.”

“No, it isn’t,” said Seb, and something shrank inside of me: the chill of his voice was close to hatred. “I think we’re finished now.”

In October I turned nineteen.

In a moment of weakness, I let Liz talk me into throwing a party. I got dressed up and smiled, and even danced a little.

But all I could feel was the warmth of Alex’s lips as they pressed against my neck – the strength of his arm around me, holding me close. Are you kidding? I’d have had to challenge the guy to a duel or something. Might have been kind of awkward.

When it was over I went back to my room and cried so hard that I ended up retching over the toilet.

It wasn’t really a good birthday.