Angel Fire

by L. A. Weatherly

Page 42

  Alex had always believed – always – that my angel wasn’t something separate from me; that she was just another aspect of myself. What was he going to think when he found out that wasn’t true? That she had separate thoughts from mine; that I couldn’t even control her any more?

  My hands were ice. I slumped weakly against the sink, imagining the look that would be on his face when he found out. Oh god, he’d defended me to the whole team, telling them that they could trust me, and now – I swallowed. The thought that his beautiful eyes might look at me with dread, or suspicion, made me feel sick. I knew how much he loved me, but the angels had killed his whole family. He’d devoted his entire life to fighting them. Could he really still feel the same about me, when he found out my angel self had a mind of its own? I had to tell him; I knew I didn’t have a choice.

  But how?

  JENNY SAT CROSS-LEGGED ON THE other side of the desk, looking radiant with happiness – if a bit tired and drained. “Would you like to arrange a meeting with him, sir?” she asked.

  Tapping a pen, Raziel glanced over the email printout in question. The town of Silver Trail was a few dozen miles up in the Rockies; the weather might be foul this time of year. Still, the proposed idea was intriguing.

  “What do you think?” he asked, smiling at Jenny. Her almost-demure business suit hugged her figure. He couldn’t imagine now why he’d wasted so much time with a male assistant whose energy he didn’t even find appealing; he must have been insane.

  She flushed, eyes shining. “I think it’s a wonderful idea – really wonderful. It could make such a difference to so many people’s lives. ”

  Indeed it could; Raziel already had thoughts about how he could put his own spin on the scheme. “I think you’re right,” he said, handing the email back to her. “Go ahead and arrange the meeting. ”

  Once Jenny had departed, Raziel’s momentary good mood faded. Scheduling meetings as if nothing had happened was all very well, but meanwhile he was going mad with nerves.

  There will be no changes in how things are run. That is my promise.

  Raziel’s face darkened as he recalled the TV interview. It had been big news for a few days, with his own image smiling out at him from all the major papers. Not very clever, he supposed. But when the question had been asked, he’d been standing in the same place in the cathedral where the Council had demanded to see him in private, as if he were a naughty schoolboy about to be told off. Anger had bristled through him, remembering, and with the reporter’s microphone thrust in his face, the words had come of their own accord. Saying them had given him deep satisfaction at the time, but now he wished he’d been more circumspect. Though the Council probably hadn’t had much doubt that he had no intention of toeing the line, they’d have none at all after this.

  The Twelve had shown no reaction to his statement. Yet.

  The knowledge that they were deliberately keeping quiet to let him do exactly what he was now doing – writhe uncomfortably, wondering how they’d respond – made Raziel’s teeth clench. The time for their demise couldn’t come quickly enough for him now, in more ways than one. But if his own death was caused by the Council perishing, at least he’d have the pleasure of knowing he’d taken them out with him.

  The plan was now securely in place – though Charmeine had found something out that made its probable outcome less uncertain than before, and not in an especially reassuring way.

  After her brief trip to Mexico City, Charmeine had managed a day away from the Twelve and spent it here at the cathedral with him, in his private quarters. He’d given orders to Jenny that he wasn’t to be disturbed – he’d had a feeling things would resume between him and Charmeine, and had been correct, as it turned out. Enjoyable, but utterly calculated on both their parts; it had cemented their alliance even further, making it easier to read each other’s thoughts.

  “So I found Luis without any trouble,” she’d said later on. Raziel had already gleaned some of this from her mind – flashes of an earnest-looking young man with brown eyes and thick black hair – but still listened with interest as she described the encounter. “He’s pretty smitten with this Kara person. It didn’t take much to get him to trust her. ”

  “You fed from him,” summed up Raziel. They were on the luxurious leather sofa; Charmeine had her long legs draped over his lap.

  “Well, obviously. Several times, just to make sure he got the message. ” She stifled a yawn. She had on Raziel’s black silk dressing gown; her pale hair spilled down it in stark contrast. “Sorry. I have to keep myself shielded all the time around the Twelve, without them realizing – it’s pretty tiring. ”

  “You’re holding out against them though. ” Raziel’s voice had sharpened.

  “Yes, don’t worry. I’m fine, it’s all right. ” Charmeine rolled her eyes, nudging his thigh with a slender foot. “As if I thought for a second that my welfare is what’s concerning you. ”

  He hadn’t bothered to deny it; she’d have felt the same. Just because he could, he slid his hand up her leg and let his thoughts go wandering through hers, relishing the sense of all doors opening to him – it had a thrill of its own. Naturally, his own mental doors weren’t all open to her, though she’d think they were. He’d constructed an elaborate false memory detailing how he’d anonymously gotten into contact with the Angel Killers and gained their trust – the last thing he wanted was for anyone, including Charmeine, to realize he had a link with the half-angel. A good false memory had the same vivid sensory details as the real thing; Raziel was quite proud of the level of attention he’d put into this one. Charmeine could have done something similar, of course, but he didn’t think she had. He could sense her loathing of the Council seeping through her almost every thought; there was no way she could fake that. Hiding it was just about possible, though not easy. It wasn’t surprising she was tired.

  For a moment Raziel thought he felt a flutter of resistance. He gave Charmeine a keen look. She lay against the sofa cushions with her eyes closed as he explored, her face untroubled. The faint feeling was gone just as quickly. Probing further, Raziel decided it hadn’t been hiding anything in particular.

  Then his hand froze on her leg as he came across something. What? He checked again; he hadn’t been mistaken. He stared at Charmeine wordlessly.

  “I was wondering when you’d find that,” she said without opening her eyes. “They told us a few days ago; it’s why we’re spending three weeks in Mexico City. I always thought it was sort of a long time just to appoint a church head. ”

  Raziel shook his head, still half-lost in the images he was getting. “What do they think they’ll accomplish by such a thing? They must be insane!”

  Charmeine sat up as she glanced at him, her expression ironic. “Let’s just say they’re very eager for angels to remain angels. They think being in this world is turning us all into base gluttons, who indulge ourselves for pleasure instead of necessity. They don’t want us mixing with humans too much, except when we absolutely have to. ”

  It was hardly news. Raziel thought of the Twelve’s meeting with him in the conference room below, and snorted. Drumming the sofa, he considered the implications of what he’d just seen. Though the two dimensions had split off from each other eons ago, the human and angel worlds had once been one and the same – and this meant the Twelve, as First Formed, had links to this world’s energy. On its own, the fact didn’t worry him overmuch. The possible cost to the human world after the Council’s deaths had always seemed a low risk to him – it was the angels’ link to each other that was the main issue.