Angel Fire

by L. A. Weatherly

Page 47

 

  Trish sighed. “So I guess this is the hard part, isn’t it? When you don’t get to them in time. ”

  “Yeah,” said Alex. He put his gun away. “But when you do manage to save them – it makes everything worth it, believe me. And now that those four are dead, they can’t hurt anyone else, at least. ”

  “Hey, where’s Willow?” said Sam suddenly.

  Alex went cold as her frightened, unhappy face came back in a rush. What had she been about to tell him? Had something happened? He took off up the hill at a run; burst onto its leafy crest with Sam and Trish close behind. Dread thudded through his veins; he couldn’t see her anywhere.

  “Willow!” he called, cupping his hands around his mouth. “Willow, where are you?”

  “Wait – is that her?” Trish gasped.

  “Oh shit,” said Sam at the same moment. He stood gaping upwards.

  Alex spun towards where Trish was pointing. And stared. A girl who looked like Willow was far away down the path, running towards the eastern gate of the park. She was holding hands with a guy who had curly-looking brown hair.

  Dimly, he became aware that Sam was tugging at his arm. “Alex! Look up. ”

  Somehow Alex tore his gaze from Willow and the strange boy. . . and saw that high above them both flew a long, shining stream of angels, a hundred strong, searing through the sky.

  As Alex ran off after the others, I started to follow him, fumbling for my gun. The movement felt so unnatural, as if I’d somehow morphed into a heroine in a cheesy action flick. Then a thought came, like a drench of Arctic water. I stopped short as Alex’s blue sweatshirt and dark hair disappeared through the trees.

  What was I even thinking? I couldn’t get anywhere near the angels. Before I’d bonded with my angel, she’d emerged without fail whenever others attacked, shielding me with her gleaming wings. What if she came out again now, and I couldn’t control her? What if she did something that ended up with someone getting hurt?

  As if in response, my angel gave a vicious twist inside me, struggling to break free. No! I fought her with everything I had; somehow shoved her back with a mental wrench. I stood shaking, clutching my head and breathing hard. Oh god, was this what the rest of my life was going to be like? I’d go insane. What was this – why was it happening to me?

  I sank to the ground, pressing against a tree and burying my head in my arms. I could sense rather than hear the sound of gunfire not far away. I’d never felt so helpless in my life. I reached out with my thoughts, searching for Alex – needing to feel him. His energy was there, strong and comforting, and I latched onto it, holding him tight even if he didn’t know I was doing it. Be safe, please be safe. And please don’t hate me when I tell you that my angel is a stranger to me after all. . . that she’s not part of the girl you’re in love with like we both thought she was. . .

  Slow, hesitant footsteps were approaching. My head jerked up.

  A few feet away stood a boy in faded jeans and a long-sleeved grey T-shirt, staring at me. He was about Alex’s height and build, with soft-looking brown hair that had a curl to it – but there was nothing remotely feminine about him. Solid shoulders; a firm jaw with a light coat of stubble; high cheekbones. The boy’s eyes were wide, and fixed on mine. As I realized who it was, my thoughts stuttered to a halt.

  The boy from my dream.

  He closed the distance between us and dropped to his knees in front of me, letting the battered knapsack he’d been carrying fall to the ground. His throat moved as he swallowed. He looked down at my arms; reached out and touched them – I could feel him trembling. He stroked his way down their length, as if to reassure himself I was real. When his hands came to mine he gripped them tightly; his were rough and warm. He said something in Spanish.

  “I—” Why wasn’t I pulling away? But it was like he’d cast a spell over me. “I don’t speak Spanish,” I got out. “No hablo español. ” Then I did start to pull away – but suddenly the energy from him swept over me in a wave and I caught my breath in shock, unable to move. It felt so familiar, right down to my very core, like nothing I’d ever known before.

  The boy looked up. His eyes were hazel – warm brown, with green radiating out from his pupils. “Yes, I’m sorry – I knew that, I forgot. ” His voice was distant, as if he wasn’t thinking about what he was saying. He shook his head, staring at me as a wondering smile grew across his face.

  “It’s really you,” he whispered. “I can’t believe I found you. ” Letting go of one of my hands, he touched my cheek. The sun hit his face, turning the stubble on his jaw golden.

  I jerked away from him, my heart beating hard. “Who are you?”

  He started to respond, but then broke off as we both saw it: a flock of at least a hundred angels flying east across the park, in a long, shifting stream that glinted in the light. At their very centre was a small group that shone more fervently than the others – angels so bright I could barely look at them.

  As I realized why that seemed so familiar, my pulse skipped. All the elements of my dream were suddenly crashing together at once, so that I hardly knew what was real and what wasn’t. First the boy, and now the twelve angels – I could count them, twisting and shining against the sky. My mind felt like it had stalled, trying to take everything in. What were they doing here now? They weren’t due in Mexico City for five more weeks.

  I stood up, gaping; the boy had risen to his feet too. “The Council,” I whispered. “Oh my god, it’s the Council from my dream. We have to follow them; we have to see where they go – Alex!” I shouted over my shoulder. “Alex, hurry! The Council’s arriving!”

  At the mention of my dream, the boy gave me a quick glance. He grabbed his bag up from the ground. “Come on – we have to be fast,” he said.

  “Alex!” I shouted again, but knew he hadn’t heard. A small part of my mind was still with him, and I could feel that he was okay; that he was pleased. They’d won against the angels then – and hadn’t seen this larger group yet, with the Council gleaming at its centre.

  “Come!” urged the boy, grasping my hand and peering upwards.

  “Wait – let go of me! I have to tell my—”

  “There isn’t time!” The boy started to run, pulling me along with him; I gave up and started running too. He was right, there wasn’t time. And more than that. . . more than that, I somehow just couldn’t say no to him.

  We pounded through the trees and onto the footpath – the boy’s hand gripping mine, long legs pumping rhythmically. The angels flitted in and out of view; he steered us sharply down one path, then another. We raced past sidewalk vendors, plunged down some steps and skirted a pond. Ducks took off with a startled flapping.

  I wanted to tell him to slow down; instead I gritted my teeth and went faster. The boy half turned and put his arm around me, helping me along for a few paces.

  “Hurry, querida!”

  The endearment from my dream stunned me, even as we ran – and suddenly I realized that he’d seen the angels as easily as I had, without lifting his consciousness through his chakra points. Who was this boy?

  The angels were further ahead now, but still in sight, rippling in the sky. The boy jogged to a stop at a bridge flanked by a pair of black lions on pedestals; he was barely even breathing hard. Ahead, I could see a set of park gates.