Angel Fire

by L. A. Weatherly

Page 12

 

  Alex pushed the thought away, hoping that Willow wasn’t picking up on any of this crap. There wasn’t anyone else who could be in charge, so he’d deal with it. End of story.

  The sun beat down on them as it rose higher, chasing the clouds away until the sky was an almost painful blue. He drove until about ten o’clock that morning, wanting to get a few hours between them and the border before stopping. Finally, near the outskirts of Chihuahua, he saw a roadside taco stand and pulled over. He killed the engine and did a quick scan. Good – no angels nearby, at least.

  “What do you think, is it all right to stop here?” he said to Willow as they got off the bike.

  Her short hair was ruffled as she took off her helmet; she smoothed it absently, gazing around her. “I think so,” she said. “There’s something here, but. . . ” She trailed off with a frown.

  Alex kept quiet, letting her concentrate. While she did, he leaned against the bike, smiling slightly as he took in her slim figure, her face with its delicately pointed chin and wide eyes. God, she was so beautiful. He still wasn’t sure how he’d managed to get lucky enough to have Willow, but was thankful for it every day of his life. The two years he’d spent alone before he met her seemed like a black-and-white film to him now, a time devoid of colour.

  “I think we’re okay,” said Willow finally, sounding more certain. The day had grown warmer, and she pulled off her blue long-sleeved shirt; under it she wore a green camisole top. She put the shirt away in the Shadow’s storage compartment. “Anyway, Señor, we’re supposed to be saving money on food, remember? What are we doing at a taco stand?”

  “It’s okay; these places are really cheap,” he said as they started towards the stand. Back when he’d had even less money than he did now – it had never occurred to Alex’s father that perhaps his sons should receive a salary like the other AKs – he and Jake had used to live off these roadside stands every time they came here.

  Tacos, quesadillas, mulitas, tortas, said the weathered sign. Willow gave it a quizzical glance. “Hmm, Toto, I don’t think we’re in Kansas any more. You choose for me, okay?”

  Alex got them each a Coke and a few tacos with carnitas: chopped roast pork. “And don’t worry, I told her you want extra chillies on yours,” he said to Willow, keeping a straight face. They were actually for him – he loved spicy food.

  She gave him a look. “Dude, if there are any chillies on mine, you’re going to be wearing them. ”

  Alex paid with dollars – most places down here accepted US bills, though he knew he’d need to change their dwindling funds into pesos at some point. A worn picnic table stood to one side; they carried their food over. For a few minutes they ate the Mexican tacos with their soft cornmeal wraps, in companionable silence, a light breeze stirring the dusty ground.

  Finally Willow sighed and put her last taco down. “So I guess we need to talk. ”

  The remains of their food went uneaten as she related her dream. Alex listened intently, his skin prickling as she described the twelve bright angels, and the sound that was like a million of the creatures screaming.

  “It was all so vivid – and there was such an incredible sense of urgency,” Willow finished. Her face was tight with worry. “Only I don’t even know where this place is, for sure. ”

  “Mexico City,” he said absently, still thinking of the images from her dream. He’d been there twice, on hunting trips with Juan and a few of the others.

  “Definitely? You’re positive?”

  Alex shrugged. “No other place is that big. Plus that square you described has got to be the Zócalo – it’s one of the largest squares in the world. ” He rubbed his forehead, where a dull ache was beginning to pound.

  Willow started to say something and stopped, touching his arm. “Are you okay? You look really pale. ”

  “Yeah, I’m fine. ” He dropped his hand. “Listen, if what you’re leading up to is that you think we need to go there—”

  “We do need to go there,” she broke in anxiously. “The Sierra Madre isn’t where we’re supposed to be; Mexico City is – I’m sure of it. Only, I don’t know what’s going to happen once we’re there. The dream didn’t feel very. . . cheerful, exactly. ”

  Great. He let out a breath. “Willow. . . ”

  “Alex, listen to me. It wasn’t just a dream; it was a premonition. We have to go. ”

  His voice hardened. “You do know that Mexico City is literally about the last place on the planet I’d ever want to take you, right? The Church of Angels is huge there – and the city was full of angels even before the Invasion. Any angel that saw your aura would know exactly who you are. We’re in enough danger just sitting here, but at least we can do a scan first. In a city that size? No way. ”

  “I know. ” Willow was still touching his arm; her fingers felt warm against his skin. “But how often do angels scan auras when they’re in their human bodies? Don’t they usually wait until they’re in their angel form, about to feed?”

  “The ones I’ve tracked usually do,” he admitted.

  “And you’ve tracked hundreds,” she pointed out. “So it must be pretty typical. If an angel saw my aura when it was about to feed on someone, then we’d probably see it, too. We’d have a good chance of getting it. ”

  When it came to Willow’s safety, probably and good chance were not his favourite words. Looking down, Alex took her hand, playing with her fingers. “How strongly do you feel we need to go there?” he asked at last.

  “Really strongly,” she said without hesitating. “The sound of all those angels screaming. . . ” She trailed off. Slowly, she said, “Alex, it feels like something’s going to happen in Mexico City that could cause the angels serious harm. Only we have to be there for it to take place. We have to be. ”

  Alex fell silent. Willow’s premonitions had never steered them wrong so far, and if what she’d dreamed was even partly accurate, then she was right, no question – they had to go. And even apart from her dream, he knew it would be a lot easier to recruit people in a city, rather than up in el monte. If he were on his own, then Mexico City would be exactly the place he’d head for. Plus there were the rogues: angels who believed their kind didn’t have the right to destroy humanity – Nate had told them about how they did something called “marshalling”, where they implanted a tiny bit of resistance in a human’s aura to make it unpalatable to angels. There were bound to be some rogues in Mexico City; if he could somehow hook up with them, it might be just what was needed to swing the balance in an almost-hopeless fight.

  Alex massaged his forehead as the headache jabbed again. Yeah, going to Mexico City was all really logical. . . except he’d already nearly lost her once.

  Willow took in the movement of his fingers on his brow. She didn’t comment this time, though he saw the concern in her eyes. “Alex, we have to go,” she said instead. “We really do. ”

  “All right,” he said finally. He managed a smile. “I mean, if you’ve got a psychic girlfriend, then I guess you’d better listen to her, right?”