Angel Fire

by L. A. Weatherly

Page 33

 

  “You’re doing great,” I whispered to him. “Seriously. ”

  He made a face as he looked down at the pistol he was holding. “Yeah. . . I guess we’ll see how it goes. ” He pulled the magazine out with a click and discharged the cartridges, then started pressing them back in again in a smooth, rapid motion. “Okay, look, this is really easy – just watch how I’m doing it. ”

  I hesitated, wondering what was bothering him. I knew he must be even more worried about the situation with the Council than I was, when he was the one responsible for training everyone. But this felt like something else.

  He glanced at me; a slight smile appeared. “You know, you sort of have to pay attention if you’re going to learn this. Here, I’ll do it again. ”

  This time I took in the steady rhythm of his thumb as he pressed the cartridges in. “Like a Pez dispenser,” I said. All around us were the faint thuds of silenced bullets. They weren’t loud, but they were intense, somehow; you could feel the whole room vibrating with them.

  “Yeah, exactly. ” Alex took the cartridges out again and handed me the empty magazine. “And listen, I’m sorry about just now, with the group,” he added in an undertone. “Hope I didn’t embarrass you. ”

  “It’s okay,” I said, thinking how strange it was for us to be standing this far apart. I’d gotten so used to touching Alex whenever I wanted – it seemed as natural to me as breathing. I knew he felt the same. Earlier that morning, he’d pulled me into one of the storerooms as I’d come out of the shower room wearing a borrowed bathrobe – stroking my damp hair back with both hands, kissing me deeply, the two of us pressed up against the wall in the shadows.

  “I missed you last night,” he’d whispered between kisses.

  “Me too. . . me too,” I’d murmured. His arms had felt so safe around me, as if the weird sensations of the night before would never have happened if I hadn’t been sleeping away from him. As if they weren’t important at all any more.

  I swallowed as I looked down at the magazine, struggling to push a cartridge in. I’d been trying not to focus on it, but that sense of my angel being restless was still there. I was so conscious of her as a separate presence that she almost felt loose inside of me; I was reminded of Peter Pan trying to sew his shadow back on. God, I hated this – not knowing what was going on with my own body.

  “Hey. What’s up?” asked Alex.

  I shoved my worries down as far as they’d go and slammed a door on them. There was no way I was telling Alex this; it was too not-human for me to even want to think about it. “Nothing. I’m fine. ”

  He propped a hip against the table, watching me carefully. “Those girls haven’t been giving you a hard time, have they?”

  “No. Well, a little. Nothing major. ” I manoeuvred another cartridge into the magazine. It wasn’t nearly as easy as it looked. “How did you do this so fast, anyway?”

  He glanced down at my hands. “Practice. What do you mean, nothing major?”

  I shook my head – Liz and Trish staring at me while I put on my jim-jams was really the least of my worries just then. “Seriously, Alex, it’s okay. I’ve got to make my own way with them, you know? It’s no good if my boyfriend the lead AK gets all involved every time someone looks at me funny. ”

  I could tell he understood, even if he didn’t like it much. “Yeah, all right,” he said finally. “But listen, I have to make sure that everything’s running smoothly with the team. So if it gets to the point where it might affect that, then I need to know, okay?”

  “Deal,” I said in a soft voice. His eyes were so warm, so concerned. The rhythm of the cartridges slowed as I took in the familiar strong lines of his face, and the raw-looking bruise on his cheek where Sam had hit him. My gaze lingered on the bruise. I wanted to stroke it better, feather light kisses all over it. In fact, I just wanted to kiss him, period, so much that it hurt.

  He grinned suddenly, and my heart turned over. “Oh man, don’t look at me like that, or we’re going to cause a scandal in the AK house. ”

  And for a minute I felt better, just standing near him and seeing his smile. “Look at you like what?” I said innocently, as I finished loading the magazine and put it down on the table.

  “Yeah, you know exactly like what. Like you’re thinking about the broom closet, that’s what. ” Unobtrusively, he put his hand over mine on the table, stroking my index finger lightly. We smiled at each other; then he glanced over his shoulder and the smile faded. His expression turned serious, intent. “I’d better get over there, see how they’re doing. Do you want to practise this for a while? I’ll be back soon to start teaching you how to shoot. ”

  He showed me how to empty the magazine, and then went over to the others. My gaze followed him without me meaning it to, drinking in the firm set of his shoulders under the T-shirt; his rumpled dark hair; the sense of confidence that shone through without him even being aware of it, just in the way he walked – so easy and relaxed.

  And then I saw something that I really didn’t know what to think about.

  Kara was looking at him in the same way.

  As the days passed, things settled into a routine.

  I learned how to shoot. Started target practice with the others. Watched the news a lot, like everyone else, to see what was going on in the world now. And we all tried to avoid bumping into each other like peas in a can. There weren’t that many of us in the house, but it always felt crowded somehow – apart from the dorms, there was only the range, the kitchen, the TV room and a couple of storage rooms, which were so full of boxes you could hardly get into them anyway. There was also a tiny gym in the basement, with a few exercise machines and free weights. Everyone worked out. I did too, since I was going stir crazy – Alex didn’t want me outside on my own until he was satisfied I could defend myself. He wasn’t just being protective of his girlfriend; the same thing was true for the other AKs, apart from Kara.

  Other AKs. It was strange to realize that’s what I was now.

  Alex hadn’t been satisfied at all with the way the first target practice went. Afterwards he’d told the group they were way too static – great at shooting if nothing was moving, but unfortunately angels had this funny habit of not just standing there motionless when bullets were coming at them. He rigged up targets that swung wildly from the ceiling, and made them start practising with those instead. In no time, the wall behind the targets was peppered with bullet holes, as if the room had been through a war.

  “Man, this sucks,” complained Sam a few days later, red-faced with frustration as he missed again. The target swung about on its chain: a manic, mocking pendulum. “It’s all we’ve been doing for days! When are we gonna get out there and hunt some angels for real, so we can get ready for the Council?”

  “When you’re over ninety per cent on the moving targets,” said Alex shortly. He took Sam’s pistol from him and aimed at the still-bouncing target; he shot once, twice, a third time. Bullseye each time. Silence fell from the group as they watched.

  “That’s what I want,” said Alex. He handed Sam’s gun back. “Until you can do that, you’re not getting anywhere near an angel again – period. You’re no good to me unless you can actually hit them. ”