Angel

by L. A. Weatherly

Page 64

 

  Nate nodded. “It worked, then — good. It doesn’t always. ”

  “Which means you don’t have angel burn,” added Sophie.

  “Angel burn?” Jonah raised his coffee cup, holding it in front of him almost like a shield. As Sophie explained, he felt himself go pale. “You’re saying that it’s true, then; the angels really are feeding off people. Literally feeding off them, hurting them. And that — that the people just see them as good and kind. ”

  “That’s about right,” said Sophie. “Apart from the physical damage, it pretty much fries the human brain. You get sort of obsessed with them — everything is praise be to angels. ”

  Jonah winced at the familiar phrase.

  Nate rested his muscular forearms on the table. Though the angel had an easy grace to him, he was built like a football player. “Look, the thing is, it’s about to get a lot worse,” he said. “And you’re in a unique position to help us, if you’ll do it. ”

  The bustling café noise seemed to dim around him. Jonah’s heartbeat quickened with apprehension. “What do you want me to do?”

  The pair told him. By the time they had finished, Jonah’s coffee had long grown cold and the funky LoDo café with its worn tables and posters of movies on the walls had taken on the feel of a nightmare. “I — I don’t know if I can do that,” he stammered. “I mean, it’s true that I’m in charge of the celebration, but . . . ”

  “It all depends on finding the half angel,” said Sophie. “She’s the only one who might be able to succeed. ” She let out a short breath. “We were close, but we lost them; now they could be anywhere. ”

  “But even if we find her, we’d need your help to actually pull it off,” said Nate. “We couldn’t do it without you, in fact. ”

  Jonah stared down at his cup and saucer. His previous unshakable faith in the angels felt like a pain inside of him — something beautiful and precious that had been sullied forever. He didn’t want to believe this; he wished that he could just get up and walk away and pretend that none of it had ever happened. But even if he did believe it, how could he possibly do what they were asking?

  I can’t, he thought. I just can’t do it.

  They were both watching him, waiting for him to speak. Finally Jonah cleared his throat. “I’ll have to think about it,” he said.

  Sophie’s mouth pursed with frustration; she started to say something, and Nate put a hand on her arm. “Do that,” he said. “Jonah, I think you know that we’re telling you the truth. The situation is grave, and it will just get worse. Humanity as you know it isn’t likely to survive this. ”

  “You, more than anyone, know the sheer scale of this thing,” said Sophie tightly. “So, yes, think about it — but don’t take too long; we’re running out of time. ” She took out a business card and a pen, scratched out the phone number on the card, and wrote a new one. “Here,” she said, handing it to him. “Call me the second you decide. ”

  Jonah nodded, gazing down at the card. SOPHIE KINNEY, CIA. He’d throw it away when he got back to his apartment, he thought. Even if every word they had said was true, there was simply no way he could do this.

  “Thanks for coming,” said Nate. His chair scraped against the floorboards as he stood up. “We’ll leave you in peace now. And, Jonah . . . ”

  Jonah looked up, and the angel smiled at him — a sad, understanding smile, his eyes burning into Jonah’s. “Sophie’s right,” he said. “Don’t take too long. ”

  The days turned into a week, then slid past two, so that it started to feel as if Alex and I had all the time in the world. Except that sometimes, under the lazy rhythm of our days together, I flinched with sudden terror — a cold foreboding, as if something was on the horizon waiting for us. I couldn’t tell whether it was something I was actually sensing or just my own fears. I didn’t mention it; there was no point unless I got something more definite. Alex and I both knew that we were in danger and that our days up at the cabin couldn’t last forever. For one thing, the weather was turning. The air bit at us with the threat of winter now; often I had to wear two sweaters when we went outside. Before long, we’d have to decide our next move and face whatever was coming next, but I didn’t want to bring it out into the open, not yet. It was as if we could put off the inevitable by not talking about it.

  Even with these worries, Alex and I kept growing closer, until it seemed like we were two sides of the same coin.

  “He was just . . . incredible, actually,” he told me one night after we’d finished eating dinner. We were sitting talking, with the camp lantern casting a gentle glow on the table between us. “I mean, no one else even knew about angels, much less how to kill them. Dad learned it all on his own, testing different ways to destroy them — Christ, he should have gotten himself killed a hundred times over, but he didn’t somehow. ”

  I was listening with my chin propped on my hand. “Where were you and Jake while he was doing this?”

  “At home, at first. In Chicago. He hired someone to look after us. ”

  After their mother had just died? It sounded awful for such young children. “OK, go on,” I said after a pause.

  “Then about six months later, when he had his funding and was ready to start training other people, we moved to the camp with him. He was still traveling a lot then, though — he had to recruit new AKs, follow leads, that kind of thing. It was a few years before the camp really got off the ground. ” Alex smiled wryly, playing with a camping fork. “And then another few years after that before he started to lose it. ”

  “Lose it?” I stared at him in surprise. “I didn’t know that. ”

  Alex tapped the fork lightly against the table. “Yeah. For — I don’t know — five years, maybe, Dad was the best of the best. I mean, nobody was a better AK than him. And it wasn’t just hunting; it was strategy, too, and training and organizing the hunts. But then he just . . . got obsessed. ”

  “Obsessed how?” I asked.

  Shadow bathed Alex’s face as he gazed down, accenting his lips and cheekbones. He shrugged. “Killing angels was all he could think about. After a while he wouldn’t let any of the AKs take time off, ever. Everyone at the camp was going stir-crazy, ready to kill each other. That’s when people started sneaking time after a hunt, just a day or two to take a break. ”

  I shifted on my chair, watching him. “Like you and Jake, when you fixed up this place?”

  He nodded as he glanced at the walls around him. “Yeah, that was good,” he said quietly. “That was a really good time. People used to sneak down to Mexico a lot, too. Or up to Albuquerque. Anywhere where they could just have some fun. ” He made a face. “Fun had gotten to be a concept that Dad didn’t really get anymore. ”

  I watched the fork as he tapped it against the table, not sure whether I should ask. “How did your father die?” I asked at last.

  The fork kept the same rhythm as before. “An angel ripped his life force away. He died of a massive heart attack. ”