Текст книги "Angel Fever"
Автор книги: L. A. Weatherly
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Текущая страница: 22 (всего у книги 26 страниц)
32
“AND THEN WHAT HAPPENED?” RAZIEL asked, his tone conversational. He stood propped against the desk in the Schenectady Church of Angels office, idly cleaning his fingernails with a letter opener. “Do not lie to me again, Zaran.”
The dark-haired angel sat clutching his temples, visibly trembling. He’d been sitting there for over two days – since just after Raziel had arrived, in fact. All that time without feeding, for to shift into his angel form would make him vulnerable.
He wasn’t handling it very well.
“I’m not lying,” he gasped. “Nothing happened. I flew down the corridor, and no one was there, so I flew back to tell the others.”
“Mmm, yes, so you keep saying.” Raziel motioned to Bascal, who stood waiting by the door with two other goons. “You know, I’m feeling rather peckish,” he confided. “What about you?”
“Sure am,” said Bascal with a leer. “Want me to call for a couple of A1s?”
“Delightful.” Raziel noted with satisfaction how pale Zaran had become at the mention of food – angels, unlike humans, could not go for very long without partaking of sustenance. Zaran’s aura had been shuddering for hours, its edges a vivid, painful blue.
Raziel straightened up and stretched as Bascal headed out. “You know, it is funny how all roads keep leading back to you,” he said. “Willow Fields did not die; I’d stake my own life on it. And the entrances she was nearest to could only be reached by the corridor you say you flew down. So where did she go?”
“I don’t know – I told you!”
Idly, Raziel picked up the small photo Bascal had given him. “Such a pretty girl,” he mused. “You must have thought it a shame that she had to die.”
“I didn’t think—” Zaran broke off. Raziel raised an eyebrow and smiled.
Low murmurs came from the outer room as Bascal returned. He’d left the office door slightly ajar behind him; through it they could see a starry-eyed pair of humans – and then silence came as Bascal fed. His halo pulsed brightly through the crack in the door.
Raziel had enacted this little performance several times already with Zaran; this time it could truly be called a success. The high-cheekboned angel sat staring as Bascal fed, his aura shaking with weakness and fatigue. “I – no, I didn’t—”
“Didn’t what?” Raziel asked gently.
“Didn’t think of her! I didn’t—” With a moan, Zaran buried his face in his hands. “All right,” he whispered raggedly. “I saw them – saw them both. Her and the other half-angel.”
“And you let them go,” hissed Raziel.
“It was just the spur of the moment – it was the other half-angel, you see. He…he’s my son. I didn’t want him to be hurt.”
Ah. The mystery of Seb’s parentage finally revealed itself. “How fascinating,” Raziel said coldly. “And how quaint of you to feel such a human emotion. What about Kylar?”
“He wasn’t there.” Zaran’s eyes were still fixed on Bascal; his fingers gripped the chair’s arms. “That’s everything. Let me feed now – promise you won’t hurt me if I do.”
“Oh, but I don’t think it is everything. What aren’t you telling me?”
Zaran shot him a wretched look. His face was pale, clammy with sweat.
“I know there’s something, you see,” Raziel said softly. “I may not be very psychic any more, but I’ve become quite, quite adept at body language. Yours is very revealing right now.”
Zaran sat frozen. His throat moved.
Without taking his gaze off him, Raziel called, “Bascal, I don’t think I’m hungry after all. Take the humans away, will you?”
“No!” burst out Zaran. “All right. Willow fell in front of me during the fight, right after she beat Margen. And the expression on her face – I think she got something psychically from Margen before she killed her.”
Electricity surged through Raziel. Margen had been one of the few angels to know about Pawntucket. Willow knew, then, that he planned to destroy her hometown.
And that meant, unless he was very much mistaken, that she was in Pawntucket right now.
Raziel smiled. Suddenly he felt almost friendly towards Zaran – the wait before the attack had been well worth it. “Why don’t you go and feed?” he suggested gently. “Go on – we won’t hurt you.”
Zaran didn’t move at first, his expression an agony of disbelief and desperation. Finally, with a weak lunge, he bolted out the door. A moment later, light from his angel form poured in through the office doorway.
Raziel nodded at Bascal’s two goons; they straightened and slipped into the other room. There was a blaze of light as they, too, shifted – then winged shadows struggling briefly on the wall. A broken-off scream from Zaran. A moment later, drifting pieces of light glinted at the corner of Raziel’s vision.
“Goodbye, Zaran,” he said, carefully placing the photo back on the desk. “It was a pleasure knowing you.”
A few hours later Raziel was still in his office, eyes narrowed in thought as he leaned back in his leather chair. The information was even better than he’d first thought.
Pawntucket, with Willow leading them, would be preparing for the attack, of course. It didn’t matter; they’d be crushed in moments. Yet now that it came down to it, merely killing the girl seemed anticlimactic…especially since the quakes seemed to have awakened such a power in her over human auras.
Raziel had no doubt now that the Mexico City anomaly was because of Willow: people who she’d merely lived near, perhaps, or whose auras she’d brushed against on the street. The sheer power that implied – not to mention the energy shift he’d been sensing in the world. If that was linked to her too, and he could get her to harness it…what couldn’t he do?
Yet to do that, he’d need to control her.
Raziel’s gaze fell on the photo of Willow again. He narrowed his eyes at the smiling girl. “You’re a worthy opponent, but I am more so,” he murmured, touching the brass frame. “And I will get what I need from you.”
A knock came; he glanced at the clock. Almost three in the morning. “Yes?” he called with a frown.
A human church official peered in. “Sorry to disturb you, sir. But there’s a woman here to see you.”
“At this hour?”
The man shifted uncomfortably. “She says she’s been travelling for several days, down from the Adirondacks, with no car. And that it’s urgent. She says…” He took a breath. “She says that the fate of the angels depends on it.”
Raziel’s eyebrows shot up. “Send her in,” he said after a pause.
A moment later a thin woman with a pursed mouth entered. Everything about her looked faded – nondescript hair, pale skin. She gulped when she saw him.
“Sir, it’s – it’s an honour,” she gasped. “When I came here, I never dreamed I’d see you. Why, I thought you were in Denver Eden!”
Raziel rose, crossing to a sideboard. “Yes, quite. And you are…?”
“Joanna Fields.”
He’d been about to pour himself a glass of water; he froze mid-motion. “Willow Fields’s aunt,” he said.
There was a mirror over the sideboard; he saw her expression darken. “That’s not my fault. You know that, sir. Miranda and I have nothing to do with that girl.”
He was glad he wasn’t facing her; he wasn’t able to keep the stunned surprise from his face. He finished pouring his water and turned, leaning against a low table.
“Miranda?” he enquired blandly.
“Yes, my sister.” Joanna started to sit down and hesitated. “I’m sorry – may I?”
“By all means.” He remained where he was, playing with the glass. “Suppose you remind me of the circumstances surrounding your and Miranda’s – er – continued existence,” he said. “I find myself fuzzy on the details.”
“Our – oh, of course.” Joanna sat up straight. “Well, you see, it all started when Willow ran away with that secret boyfriend of hers. He must have been a terrorist: a terrible influence. She was always strange, that girl, but never malicious, do you know what I mean?”
Joanna went on breathlessly, not waiting for his response. “Then when Willow tried to blow up the cathedral in Denver – oh, it was just horrible. Reporters knocking at my door, demanding comments day and night. I told them I deplored what Willow had done and that she was no niece of mine any more, but it never satisfied them. So of course when the angel came to see us, at first I thought she was one of them.”
Raziel swirled the water around in his glass. “The angel,” he repeated in a neutral tone.
Joanna nodded eagerly. “Yes. Well, you know, sir – she said that you’d sent her. Oh, she was the most glorious creature! She explained that we were in danger, and that she’d take us away where no one could harm us. That’s why my house was burned down, so everyone would think we’d died. Then she took us to a cabin hidden up in the Adirondacks. She thought of everything.”
Rage was building within Raziel; it was difficult to keep from squeezing his crystal tumbler into pieces. “How enterprising of her,” he said. “May I ask the name of this paragon?”
Joanna blinked at “paragon”. “She said her name was Paschar.”
For a second, shock jolted Raziel; an even greater fury followed. Oh, someone thought they were very clever, all right – and he had a feeling he knew who.
Raziel shifted to his angel self. Joanna had been about to say something else; her mouth dropped open as he approached, wings outspread, the light from his ethereal form bleaching out her features.
“I think perhaps I need more information,” he said, and buried his hands in her aura.
Though he found her energy distasteful, he fed deeply. It was, he’d found, the one thing that enhanced what little psychic ability he had left. As Joanna’s life force flowed into him, Raziel closed his eyes, scanning through her thoughts like shuffling cards.
An angel with pale blonde hair and dark eyes appeared – a crystal smile. Charmeine, thought Raziel grimly, unsurprised. They’d always had a strong psychic connection; she’d obviously realized he was Willow’s father and squirelled Miranda away somewhere, to use when the revelation would be the most damaging to him. Just like her to have had all her bases covered.
Raziel shimmered back to his human form with a smirk. Ironic that Charmeine’s machinations had now delivered Miranda right into his hands. Foiled again, my dear, he thought, seeing again the moment of Charmeine’s death.
“So beautiful,” murmured Joanna, gazing into space. “Almost as beautiful as when Paschar touched me.”
“Thank you.” Raziel leaned against the desk. “Well, I think I’m up-to-date now,” he said, falsely cheery. “Why did you come to see me?”
Joanna stared at him; her aura was now a murky grey. Raziel wondered if he’d overdone it, and then she roused herself and sat up weakly. “Well, I – I know we were supposed to wait until the angels came for us, but…something’s happened. You see, Miranda’s been talking.”
Raziel’s eyes narrowed. “Go on.”
Joanna swallowed. “Usually she just sits in her chair and dreams. But last week she started speaking – as if she were talking to someone I couldn’t see.”
“Last week?” Raziel said sharply.
Joanna flushed. “It took time to find someone who could stay with Miranda – and of course I couldn’t trust anyone else to come here with this message. I didn’t like the sound of what she was saying at all. It – it sounded traitorous.”
Raziel struggled to keep his voice controlled. “What was she saying?”
“I wrote it down afterwards, so I wouldn’t forget.” Joanna fumbled in her handbag; she handed him a folded piece of paper anxiously.
Raziel’s eyebrows rose as he scanned the neatly written passage:
Miranda seemed to be talking to someone. At the very end, she said his name: Alex. They seemed to be planning something. Miranda said it might be better if people weren’t confused by the angels any more. She sounded like she was somewhere else, because she talked about the “Miranda by the lake” and said that wasn’t her. She mentioned a gate and said that Raziel was the only one who knew it was there, but that she could show it to this Alex to help him get home. And that when Willow tried to link to the “energy field”, she’d need to do it in Pawntucket.
Shock and understanding roared through Raziel. Some part of Miranda was still cognizant, and existed in the angels’ world. And Kylar had been there with her. How? How had he gotten across to their world?
Enraged, Raziel resisted the urge to crumple the paper into a tiny ball. He’d destroyed all the known gates – yet if this information was accurate, he’d missed something vital. His plan to gain control of Willow flashed back to him. Yes, and none too soon, if she knew how to use the angelic energy field. If he didn’t act quickly, she’d destroy them all.
Fortunately, his next move would not be one she’d expect.
Raziel folded the paper and ran his fingernail sharply along its crease. “Where did you say Miranda is being kept again?”
Joanna had been studying the photo of Willow on his desk, her mouth tight with disapproval. She looked up. “We’re in a cabin maybe a hundred miles from here, right up in the mountains – on one of those remote lakes that doesn’t even have a name. And I don’t mean to complain, but it’s very difficult to get to, I’m afraid. The roads are—”
“Perhaps you would wait in the outer office,” interrupted Raziel, reaching for his cell.
“Oh! Yes, of course.” She got up hastily.
Raziel was already hitting a button on speed dial. A voice answered.
“It’s time,” Raziel said as Joanna disappeared through the door. He reached for the photo of Willow and tapped it against the desk.
Bascal sounded instantly awake. “For the attack?”
“Precisely.” Raziel glanced at the clock: 3.17. “It’s to begin at six a.m. exactly. I want that town decimated. There’s a gate there; find it and destroy it – spare no one except the girl. She’s to be captured alive, unless she gets to the gate and tries to open it. Kill her immediately in that case.”
“Oh?” Bascal’s voice was wary.
“She can control our world’s energy field,” snapped Raziel. “It’s what Paschar’s vision meant.”
Bascal’s tone turned deadly. “Don’t worry. She won’t get away with it.”
Raziel was still holding the photo of Willow as he hung up. He gave a hard smile as he studied the girl’s radiant face. Oh, I’ve got a surprise for you, my daughter, he thought. I’ve finally found the way to control you.
33
IN A WAY, MY FIFTH-GRADE classroom was exactly like I remembered: the battered paperbacks on top of the art supply cupboard, the whiteboard at the front of the room. Someone had written Pawntucket Tigers STILL Know How to Roar! on it – with a drawing of a tiger attacking an angel.
But all the desks were gone. Sleeping bags clustered on the carpet, as if this were a giant slumber party. I lay in one without moving, fists pressed against my forehead as I tried scanning the town mentally, street by street.
I’d done this a hundred times now, and there was nothing – but was that because I couldn’t find the gate this way, or because there wasn’t anything to sense? Mom, where is it? I pleaded. No answer.
“Are you awake?” Nina whispered from the next sleeping bag.
I swallowed hard and opened my eyes. “Yeah.”
“I can’t sleep either,” she said softly. “Do you think Alex would mind if we got back to work early?”
It doesn’t matter if he minds or not, I wanted to say; I stopped myself. Searching the town these last two days had given me far too much time to think about Alex: relentless thoughts had pounded at my skull until I was sick of them, battered by them.
“Yes, I think he’d mind,” I said finally.
I could feel Nina trying to decide whether to say something about Alex and me; I was relieved when she didn’t. She cleared her throat. “So, I’ve been wondering something. You know how you told me last night that you and Seb can teach people to manipulate their auras?”
I nodded. “I know, but there’s no time for that here – it takes people months to learn aura work.”
“Okay, but…can’t you do it?”
I frowned as I turned my head towards her. “What do you mean?”
Her voice was hesitant. “Well, if everyone’s energy really is reaching out for you, then couldn’t you sort of…I don’t know; use that to grab hold of all our auras when the angels attack? If you could make them really small, so that the angels can’t catch hold…”
She trailed off when I didn’t answer. “Forget it.” She tried to laugh. “Grasping at Straws 101.”
“No, wait!” I was remembering once when Seb and I’d been under attack. He’d done the same thing: grasped both our auras and drawn them so close to our bodies they couldn’t be seen.
Could I do it – on such a major scale?
“I don’t know,” I said slowly. “I – I guess it’s possible.” All at once my heart was pounding. I reached out with my mind…but found that I didn’t even know where to begin. How was I supposed to grasp hold of a whole town?
A few frustrating minutes later I opened my eyes. “Did it work?” Nina whispered.
I hated the catch of hope in her voice; it was bad enough that my own hope had faded. “No. I’m sorry.”
Suddenly I couldn’t stand it any more – I unzipped the sleeping bag and slid out. I still had my clothes on; I started pulling on my shoes.
“Nina, look – go be with Jonah, okay? Please. I want you to.” I’d seen them in the corridor together earlier – Jonah touching Nina’s face. The look in both their eyes had been so uncomplicated it had wrenched my heart.
Nina sat up. “What about you?”
“I’ve got to get some fresh air. Maybe try scanning some more.”
“But it’s freezing out!”
“I know, but I’ve got to do something. And, Nina, don’t you see? This might be the last night you and Jonah have.” I grabbed my parka – and before Nina could protest any more, I squeezed her hand tightly and left.
The school playground was ghostly in the moonlight. As I sat in one of the swings, I nudged at the frosty ground with my toe, twirling slightly in place.
Though I was cold through, I didn’t get up. Scanning the town mentally hadn’t helped. Neither had trying to grasp hold of everyone’s auras again, though I’d tried it until my mind felt like a damp rag.
Now there was nothing left that I could attempt before the attack came. And it would be soon now; I could feel it.
We’re all going to die, I thought.
I looked up, imagining the sky covered in angels with Raziel at their head. If I die, he will too, I vowed to myself. Without the gate, our last chance to defeat the angels might be gone – but I’d manage that much, at least.
My spine was straight, but I felt so tired: a weariness that had nothing to do with lack of sleep. I was just about to go help with the fortifications again when I heard footsteps. I looked up in surprise.
Alex appeared out of the shadows and stood in front of me, hands buried in his jacket pockets. “Hi,” he said.
“Hi,” I said back after a pause.
Alex came and sat down in the next swing. He rubbed the bridge of his nose. “You didn’t tell me about the base,” he said quietly.
His face in the moonlight was just as I’d imagined a thousand times. What I’d never imagined was this feeling inside of myself.
I cleared my throat. “No. I thought it’d be better to wait until after whatever happens.”
Alex sighed and dropped his hand. “Yeah…you were probably right. Willow, look, I—” He broke off, as if thinking better of it. “Have you been out here scanning?” he asked at last.
Why was I yearning for his arms around me even now? “Yes,” I admitted. “Not that it’s made any difference.”
He shook his head a little as he studied me. “God, you look so much like your mother,” he murmured. “Except you’re even more beautiful.” Then his forehead creased. “Wait a minute,” he said slowly. “Your mother. I wonder—”
At the feel of his sudden excitement, my own pulse leaped. “What?”
He leaned forward, elbows on knees. “Willow, listen! There was a faint energy to your mother, and when I left the angels’ world, I held her hands – kissed her cheek. So maybe if you try contacting her again, I could be a link for you to reach her.”
I recalled the dim, heart-wrenching sense of her energy that I’d picked up from reading Alex. “But how would that work?” I said blankly. “It was you touching her, not me. And she was fading already by then—”
“Just try it! What have we got to lose?” He held his hand out to me, palm up – and I was flung back to the day we’d first met. He’d offered me his hand in just that same way.
I nodded stiffly. “All right.” As I turned towards Alex, the swing’s chains twisted above me. I took his hand – and pushed my emotions away.
Reaching out, I found my mother’s energy quickly but knew I couldn’t communicate: this was the mother in my own world. Concentrating on Alex’s hand – on the same warm skin that had touched some forgotten essence of her – I reached even further.
Mom? Are you there somewhere?
I asked the question over and over. The minutes passed. Just as I was ready to give up, suddenly the sense swept over me that I was travelling someplace both very far and very near. Oh god, she was so close – closer than I ever could have imagined.
Willow?
It was more sensation than word. But she was there – she knew me. The same elation rushed in that I’d felt as a little girl, on those rare, glorious days when my mother had actually seen me.
“Mom,” I whispered. I felt Alex’s hand tighten in mine.
Words didn’t seem possible across the worlds; it didn’t matter. My energy was merging with my mother’s as completely as Seb’s and mine did sometimes. I sat frozen in wonder as images came: me when I was little, before she’d drifted away completely. And such an overwhelming sense of love. For this one moment, I hadn’t lost my mother at all: she was still there, just like I’d always longed for.
I wanted it to last for ever – knew we didn’t have time. Mom, where’s the gate into the angels’ world? I thought. Please, we have to know!
I sensed her straining to tell me. Another image: shifting green curtains, stirred by the wind. I frowned in confusion.
I don’t understand, I thought. Is it in someone’s house? Whose?
But already, she was starting to fade – just like in the dream I’d had on the journey here. “No!” I cried in alarm. “Oh, Mom, wait – please don’t go—”
It was as if we were clinging to each other in a windstorm, pulled apart inch by inch. A last sense of love – of frustration – and she was gone.
“Mom,” I whispered raggedly. I opened my eyes; realized my cheeks were damp with tears. “We – we communicated,” I said, swiping at them with my hand. “She tried to tell me, but I couldn’t…” I trailed off as my throat tightened. Mom.
Alex drew me towards him, swing and all; he wrapped his arms around me tight. A sob escaped me. “She knew who I was,” I choked out against his chest. “Oh god, Alex, she really knew who I was…”
“I know,” he whispered into my hair. “She loves you so much – she wanted to know all about you.”
I shut my eyes hard and for a moment just pressed close to him, listening to the quiet thudding of both our hearts – and then I remembered lying on the scratchy carpet of our bedroom, crying until there were no tears left.
It felt as if I’d been punched. I winced and drew back.
“Willow, no, stop – please don’t pull away.” Alex clutched my hands. “Listen to me,” he said intensely. “I get it, okay? I swear to you, I get it. What you went through—” His Adam’s apple moved; his eyes were suddenly bright as he touched my hair. “I can never make it up to you. Never, no matter what I do. I’m sorry – oh Christ, I am so sorry. But please don’t push me away.”
“Don’t, just – don’t.” I pressed my fingers against suddenly pounding temples. “I told you I can’t do this now, Alex.”
His voice was steady. “The attack could come any time. We could die with this still between us – is that what you want?”
And suddenly the rage that had been building for three days burst through like a tsunami.
My head snapped up. “You are kidding me,” I said. “Are you really sitting there lecturing me on things I should do before I die? You? I suppose you had a – a checklist, didn’t you, before you took off?”
“Willow—”
“Where on the list was telling me I was your life? Number three, maybe? Because one was obviously lying to me, and two must have been to remember to pack your gun—”
“Willow!” He gripped my arms. “Don’t do this,” he said quietly.
“Why not? Because you don’t feel like hearing it? Because you get it now, so we can just forget all about it?”
“That is not what I meant!” Frustration darkened his features. “Look, I know I deserve this, but at least get it right. I wanted to tell you the truth—”
I jumped to my feet; my voice rose in a shout: “If you wanted to tell me, then why didn’t you, you coward? It was just easier for you to go and get killed than be honest with me!”
“Yes!” he yelled back; the word echoed across the playground. “Yes, okay? I was wrong. What else can I say? I’d do anything if I could undo this last year for you, but I can’t; we’re stuck with it!”
“We?”
His eyes flashed as he also stood up. “Yeah, we! Or don’t you think this is affecting me too? What, do you think I’m enjoying this?”
The words came out low and deadly. “Let me tell you something – you think you ‘get it’? You don’t have a clue. I loved you so completely, Alex. Part of me died with you that day, and I have never gotten her back.”
Alex swallowed hard. He stood staring at me. “Loved,” he said softly.
“What?”
“You said you ‘loved me so completely’. Does that mean you don’t any more?”
I hugged myself. The way I felt now was just a mess. Love. Hate. Anger. Sorrow.
“I…can’t even answer that.”
“Willow—” He started to touch my arm; I jerked away, furious and close to tears.
“Stop it! Stop touching me like you’ve got a right to! You don’t any more; you gave it up when you disappeared for a year!”
Alex’s face in the silvery light looked carved from stone – his hands clenched into fists. “What about the other night?” he demanded in a low voice. “You told me you loved me then, remember? And you sure as hell acted like you did.”
Something snapped. “It doesn’t matter!” I screamed. “Don’t you understand? It doesn’t matter what I feel for you – because every time I look at you, all I can think about is crying myself to sleep at night! Even if I love you, I might as well hate you – because that’s what it feels like!”
My voice rang through the night. Alex stood very still, his eyes locked on mine – his expression full of pain. “All right. I understand,” he said finally, his tone unnaturally level. “But I love you, and that will never change. Even if you hate me until the day you die.”
Shuddering, I gripped my face with both hands, breathing hard. It felt as if everything was caving in on me at once: Alex, the thwarted communication with Mom, Raziel about to attack.
Mom. Raziel.
It hit me hard, knocking everything else out of my mind – out of the whole world. I gasped, my eyes widening. “Oh god, of course,” I whispered. “I’ve got to go to Schenectady Eden.”
“What?”
I’d already turned away; Alex lunged after me and grabbed my arm. “Tell me what’s going on, Willow!”
I was desperate to leave; the words rushed out. “Don’t you see? Raziel knew Mom. I’ve got to read him, somehow; it’s the only way we might find the gate.”
“Are you insane?” Alex demanded. “Schenectady is full of thousands of angels! And you want to just wander in and read Raziel?”
“Have you got a better idea?”
“You’ll be killed,” he said flatly.
“And if I don’t go, we’ll all be killed!”
His jaw was tight. “All right, I’m coming with you.”
“What?” It was the last thing I wanted. “Alex, no – you need to stay here.”
Anger leaped across his face. “Jesus, Willow! If you think I’m going to just sit here while you head off to Schenectady—” He stopped short, glaring at me. “Maybe you didn’t hear me before, but I love you. You’re stuck with me.”
There was no time to argue. “Fine,” I said, and we headed to the walkway where the trucks were parked.
