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But now there was this mad plan of theirs: to use their connection with the Earth’s energy to bond with it and calm down places that felt “buzzy” to angels, so that angels around the world would be more inclined to resist their baser urges. How noble of them. And how. . . interesting, in terms of what consequences their deaths might now bring.
With a silken rustle, Charmeine swung her feet off his lap and sat close beside him. “You haven’t changed your mind, have you? Because I certainly haven’t, even if it does make things more of a gamble. ”
Raziel had given her a withering look. “Are they going to back off and recognize my leadership here? What’s that – the answer’s no? Then no, I haven’t changed my mind either. ”
Now, alone in his office, Raziel knew he’d increased their gamble even further by his impetuous statement to the press. Just to reassure himself that all was still well, he reached for the connection to Willow. He checked it often to keep abreast of the AKs’ progress, though had to admit that he also found the girl oddly intriguing in a way. Not to mention how surprised he’d been by her angel’s anxiety ever since he’d first entered her mind. On some deep level, Willow was obviously aware there was something amiss. While his daughter’s distress didn’t concern Raziel enough to try to soothe things for her, he did find it interesting. Her psychic skills were stronger than he’d thought.
His cellphone rang before he could get very far, jolting him back to his office. With a glance at the screen, he saw Charmeine’s name. She didn’t often get a chance to ring with updates; he snapped the phone open. “Yes? What is it?”
“Something’s up,” she said tightly.
Raziel cringed; he’d been waiting for this. “Let me guess – they saw my TV interview. ”
She gave a snort. “Raz, the whole world saw your interview. Yes, of course they did, and they’re more annoyed than you can imagine. But no, that’s not what I meant. Something else has happened—” Charmeine broke off; he could feel her tension as she listened to something. “I have to go,” she said abruptly. “I’ll call you back when I can. ”
“Wait! What’s going on? What—”
She was gone. Raziel swore, knowing he’d get nothing from her psychically now, other than whatever front she was putting on for the Twelve. He shoved his chair away and stood up, propping his hands on the window sill as he glared out at the mountains. In the distance, a heavy rain was falling, obscuring the peaks in dense cloud and heading his way.
“I’m going to take the team on a practice hunt tomorrow,” said Alex.
Kara was sprawled sideways on the battered armchair. She turned her head to look at him. “Are they ready?”
The two of them were in the TV room; the others were scattered around the house somewhere. Willow was helping Liz in the kitchen – Liz had thawed towards her enough to let her chop lettuce for a salad, or something. Alex didn’t hear them talking much, but supposed it was a start.
He shrugged. “As ready as they can be for now, without angel holographs to help train them. They’ve got to get some real-life experience. ” He felt his lips move into a small, wintry smile. “Can you imagine what my dad would say? Taking a team on a hunt before they’ve had at least a year of training?”
Kara had on sweatpants and a tight, cropped T-shirt, showing the sleek muscles of her arms and stomach. She smiled too. “Vividly. It’s different times though, Al. I’m sure this is the right thing. ”
He made a face, hoping she was right. His mind was already ticking over the details of the hunt; how best to manage it. Bosque de Chapultepec, the large, leafy city park off the Paseo de la Reforma, seemed the best bet to him – parts of it were kind of remote, and quiet during the week. If the team came across any feeding angels, they’d have space to manoeuvre and little chance of being seen. The important thing was keeping them all as safe as possible.
A news story had come on: another confrontation between the Crusaders and the Faithful. Alex gazed at the screen, only distantly taking in the shouting, angry faces. He’d known being in charge of a team would take over his life; what he hadn’t anticipated was how much he’d care about all of them – even the ones he didn’t particularly like.
It didn’t matter. Training them, being responsible for their lives – it just got under your skin; you got to know them in a way that transcended personal feeling. Sam, who Alex could cheerfully clout a dozen times a day, had still impressed him by buckling down these last few weeks and turning into a damn good shot. Liz was really okay, despite being so prickly sometimes – he’d seen how hard she’d worked to gain her shooting skills; how harsh she was on herself when she didn’t get it right. Brendan’s incessant talking grated, but Alex knew he’d miss him if he were gone. And Trish, with her freckled face and blue eyes, was almost like the glue that held them all together: smoothing quarrels, making sure everyone was getting along, so that the others gravitated towards her like a den mother.
Not to mention Wesley. Alex had sort of discounted him at first, not having time to delve into whatever the guy’s sullen deal was, as long as his training was coming along all right. Then one night he’d heard a noise in the range and gone to check – and there had been Wesley, at two o’clock in the morning, shooting targets on his own.
“Hey, aren’t I working you hard enough?” Alex had joked.
A flush had stained Wesley’s dark cheeks. He’d hastily put the gun back in the weapons cabinet, while behind him the target still bounced on its chain. “Couldn’t sleep,” he muttered.
Suddenly the truth had hit Alex. “Wait a minute – you do this a lot, don’t you? That’s why your score’s been improving so much lately. ”
Willow had told him Wesley was shy; Alex hadn’t really believed it until now – a scowl was coming over his face, but underneath it he just looked mortified. “Look, I’ve got to get it right, okay? I’m not keeping anyone awake or anything. ”
“I didn’t say you were. ” Alex leaned his shoulder against the wall. “But staying up all night won’t help; you need to get a good night’s sleep. ”
Christ, he sounded like his dad. Mentally rolling his eyes at himself, Alex had started to say something else – and stopped as Wesley burst out, “You don’t understand! I’ve got to get it. It’s my only chance to get back at the angels, I can’t—” He broke off. The flush crept down to his neck; he crossed his arms over his chest and looked away.
Alex had slowly come away from the wall. “Angel burn?” he guessed.
Wesley swallowed. “My, um. . . my whole family. My mom was. . . was CIA; that’s how I. . . ” He trailed off.
Painful understanding had stirred through Alex, as he realized how much they had in common. “I never knew that,” he said at last.
Wesley was already looking sorry that he’d mentioned it. “Yeah, well, don’t tell anyone, okay? I don’t want to talk about it, I just want to get it. ”
“You are getting it,” Alex had said quietly. “You’re doing really well. Look, no more practising this time of night, all right? Take an extra hour first thing in the morning if you want; no one will ask you any questions. But I need you in top form – and that includes getting enough sleep. ”
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