Angel

by L. A. Weatherly

Page 55

 

  I cried for a long time, wetting his skin with my tears, so that his chest turned warm and slick under my cheek. Slowly, I became aware of the strength of his arms; the faint smell of his sweat. His heart, beating firmly against me.

  I sat up, pulling away. I could hardly look at him. “How can you bear to touch me?” I wiped my eyes with my hand. “When you know I have this thing inside of me that’s like them?”

  “No!” Alex’s voice was fierce. His hands clenched me by the shoulders as he forced me to look at him. “Willow, listen to me. You are nothing like them. Nothing. ”

  I swallowed hard, wanting so much to believe him. Hugging my elbows, I stared at the hard, bare mountains on the blue horizon, remembering how they had shifted as I flew.

  “It’s never going to go away, is it?” I whispered.

  Alex shook his head slowly. “No,” he said. His eyes were full of compassion.

  Glancing down, I ran a finger across the scrabbly soil; it felt dry and gritty to my touch. Around us, the desert seemed to stretch out forever, the sun beating down on us like an oven. “Yeah,” I said finally. “I sort of knew that. ” I cleared my throat, embarrassed. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to freak out. ”

  “Don’t apologize. ” He helped me up, his hand remaining briefly on my arm. “Are you all right?”

  I nodded, not really looking at him. “I’m fine. ” But as I remembered what had happened, heat swept my cheeks. My angel had protected him, my love for him as obvious as if I’d blurted it out.

  Alex blew out a breath. “OK, well — we’d better get away from here. Try to figure out what we’re going to do. ”

  We climbed back into the truck; my legs felt strange and wobbly. And belatedly, my arm was hurting again, throbbing dully under Alex’s T-shirt. He spun the steering wheel, and we lurched onto the dirt road. As we sped through the desert again, I leaned back against my seat, closing my eyes . . . and tried not to remember the sensation of having wings that glittered in the sunlight.

  We came to a rest stop about an hour after we got back onto the state highway — a brown-painted building with vending machines on its porch and a few empty picnic tables scattered about. Alex pulled over behind the building, out of sight from the road.

  In the ladies’ room, I swapped my T-shirt for a fresh one and stood at the sink, splashing water on my face. Some of it got on my hurt arm, turning streaks of dried blood a pale, runny red. The mirror was one of those metallic ones that you can hardly see yourself in, but I could see enough to realize that I looked like something out of a horror film, the way my hurt arm had red snaking down it. I smiled faintly as I imagined Nina: Oh, my God, it’s Willow Meets the Zombies! Somebody get Steven Spielberg on the phone! Then my smile faded. What would she say if she knew the truth about what I was? Trying not to think about it, I wiped the blood off with a moistened paper towel, working around the square of Alex’s T-shirt. Then I dug my hairbrush out of my bag and combed my hair back, tying it up into a knot.

  “Hey,” said Alex’s voice. I glanced up; he was standing in the doorway holding a small first-aid kit. “Can I come in? We should probably get your arm fixed up. ”

  I could hardly meet his eyes. “Yeah, sure. ”

  He had pulled on a blue T-shirt and looked like he’d splashed water on himself, too; his arms and neck were slightly wet. So was his hair, as if he’d stuck it under the tap. The urge to touch the dampness of it where it lay against his neck was almost overwhelming. I glanced away.

  Coming over to the sinks, Alex gently took my arm; I winced as he unwrapped the strip of T-shirt. Once it was washed off, the wound didn’t look that bad, though it was sort of deep. Alex cleaned it with a tube of antiseptic from the first-aid kit and wrapped gauze around it. His hands were skillful, efficient.

  “You really know what you’re doing,” I said.

  He shrugged, his dark hair falling across his forehead. “We had to do everything for ourselves at the camp. There wasn’t a doctor for miles. ” He secured the gauze with tape, firming it in place with a finger. The finger lingered for a moment, and then he let his hand drop. “OK, I think you’ll live. ”

  I touched the bandage. “So . . . what now?”

  Alex shook his head as he started to pack up the first-aid kit. “I don’t know,” he said. “It sounds like there aren’t any AKs left now, apart from me. Even if there are, I don’t have any way to find them. Cully —” He stopped, pain creasing his face. “Cully was the one person I thought I could trust,” he said finally.

  I didn’t want to ask, but I had to know. “Alex, do you still . . . do you want to stay together? You don’t have to, if you’d rather not. I could go off on my own, or something. ”

  His head jerked up. “What are you talking about?”

  “You’re in so much danger with me, and —” I looked away, hugging myself. “And after what you saw today, I wouldn’t blame you. I mean, I know you’ve seen my angel before, but not like that. It must have been —” My mouth tightened; I couldn’t continue.

  “Willow. ” His voice was very soft. “What I saw was your angel protecting me. When I was in trouble, she protected me even before she protected you. ” He leaned against the sink, not taking his gaze from my face. “Did you know she was doing it? Or was she something separate from you?”

  I didn’t want to answer this; it felt too exposing, too raw. But to lie about it would be to deny everything I felt about him. “No, it wasn’t separate,” I whispered. “I didn’t know it was going to happen, but once it did . . . I was the angel. I — I didn’t want anything to hurt you. ”

  Alex didn’t say anything at first; my heart clenched at the expression in his eyes as he stared down at me. Finally he said huskily, “Jesus, Willow. You shouldn’t have done that, not for me. If anything had happened to you —” He broke off.

  “I know. ” I let out a breath. “I wouldn’t be able to defeat the angels. ”

  “That’s not what I meant. ” His throat moved. “Yes, I still want to be with you,” he said.

  I felt tears start. “Really? You trust me, even though I’m half angel?”

  He regarded me in confusion. “I’ve known you were half angel since the day we met. ”

  “I know, but —” I swiped at my eyes. “It just feels a lot more real to me now. Do you trust me?”

  Slowly, Alex shook his head. “How can you even ask me that, after what you did? I’d trust you with my life. ”

  I almost sobbed out loud; I tried to turn it into a laugh. “I thought — I thought you didn’t trust anyone. ”

  “I’ll make an exception in your case. ” Reaching out, Alex touched the side of my face, gently cupping my cheek with his hand. “Willow, that was the — nicest, most wonderful — stupidest thing that anyone’s ever done for me. ”

  I did laugh then, wiping my eyes. “So you really want to hang out with someone this stupid?”

  His own smile faded. “Yeah, I do,” he said softly, his hand still touching my face.