Angel Fire

by L. A. Weatherly

Page 48

 

  We stood side by side, staring. Beyond the park, a solitary tower was in clear view, soaring high over the trees – a half-cylinder of green glass that angled off at the top, reflecting a half-moon shape at the clouds. The angels veered up to this slanted peak, darting about it like moths around a flame, spiralling so brightly that the tower looked on fire.

  Dimly, I was aware that the boy had put his arm around me again, drawing me close against him. It didn’t seem strange for some reason. “What’s happening?” I gasped. “Is that the Nikko Hotel?”

  He shook his head, as unable to tear his gaze away as I was. “No – it’s La Torre Mayor; the big tower. It’s for business. ” A woman pushing a stroller strode past, oblivious. Overhead, the angels had started disappearing into the building. The twelve brightest ones were the first to vanish, gliding into the glass half-moon. The others followed gradually, until finally the last angel winked from view with a glimmer of wings.

  “I’ve never seen anything like this before,” murmured the boy, his hand gently rubbing my arm. “There were so many of them – and those twelve in the middle were so bright. . . ”

  “It’s the angels’ Council,” I said, still staring upwards. “I saw them—”

  “Council?” The boy looked down at me with a frown. “You mean their government?”

  I nodded. “I had a dream about them. Twelve angels, and. . . ” I trailed off. The boy had gone very still at the mention of my dream, his gaze locked on mine, and I knew he wasn’t thinking about the Council any more. Suddenly I noticed that I was standing pressed against him, with my head almost on his chest. God, what was I doing?

  I jerked away, flustered. “Look, who are you, anyway? Because this is just – extremely weird. ”

  Without taking his eyes from me, the boy propped himself against the base of one of the statues. There was a look of lean strength to him, with shoulders as firm as Alex’s under his long-sleeved T-shirt.

  “My name is Seb. ”

  “Seb?”

  “Sebastián,” he amended. His eyes held such incredulous happiness, drinking me in as if he’d never be able to look away. “Sebastián Carrera. And you?”

  For some reason it hadn’t occurred to me that he wouldn’t know my name already; he seemed so familiar with me. “Willow Fields,” I said.

  “Willow,” he echoed. In his accent, the word was a soft sigh: wee-low. He smiled, seeming almost shy suddenly. “That’s a tree, isn’t it?”

  The expression on Seb’s face was the same one from my dream, and looking at him now I saw how accurate my dream-image had been: the loosely curling brown hair, the high cheekbones and perfect mouth. The stubble that defined his jaw, making him even more attractive than he already was. God, what did it mean, that he was actually real? And that he was here?

  I crossed my arms over my chest, feeling uncomfortable for more reasons than I could define. “Yeah. It’s a tree. ”

  “It’s a pretty name. ” Seb’s glance lingered on my hair. “It’s changed,” he said after a pause. “You were blonde before. ”

  “How did you. . . ” I trailed off, swallowed. “I dyed it. ”

  He grinned suddenly, shaking his head. “I can’t believe this; I can’t believe I’m really standing here talking to you. Willow – you are so, so beautiful. ” As if he couldn’t help himself, he reached for my face again, tracing a soft line down my cheek with the back of his finger.

  I yanked away, hating the way my pulse had fluttered at his touch. “Stop doing that. Look, what’s going on? You said that you found me – what did you mean? Why were you looking for me?”

  His hazel eyes widened; I could see that I’d stunned him somehow. “You don’t know,” he said, almost to himself. “But how can you not know? You’ve got to see—” He stopped, his gaze scanning over me. “Wait – why aren’t you changing?”

  “Change? Into what?” I took a cautious step backwards, wondering why I was still standing here talking to this guy. And Alex. What in the world was Alex going to think? As far as he knew, I’d disappeared without a word. I had to get back; he wouldn’t even know how to find me.

  “Your—” Seb gestured impatiently at himself, sketching a quick circle around his body. “I don’t know the word in English. Your energy. Your self. ”

  “Aura,” I realized.

  “Yes, aura. You shouldn’t show your true aura out in the open this way – the angels might see you. ”

  Time slowed as I remembered how he’d seen the angels too. The truth hit me like a blow, so that all that existed was the two of us, standing on the bridge. Focusing on Seb, I brought his aura into view. It was pale green with darker green lights.

  “Show me,” I whispered.

  He understood what I meant without me having to explain. A smooth rippling – and his aura changed. Silver, with forest-green lights gleaming through it. In a dream, I put my hand out, running it through the gently-shifting colours as if I could catch them; watching as they played on my fingers. Seb stood very still. I felt him shiver and realized he could feel this, just as if I was stroking his skin.

  I lowered my hand, but couldn’t stop staring at the beautiful, silvery lights. My eyes were full of tears – the words almost wouldn’t come.

  “You’re half-angel,” I said. “I thought – I thought I was the only one in the world. ”

  Seb let out a breath that was almost a sob. “Yes. Yes, me too. . . me too. ” He tried to say something else; couldn’t seem to get out the words. He reached for my hand, squeezing it hard.

  I stood with his fingers gripping mine as we stared at each other. I should pull away, I thought. . . but instead I was holding onto him tightly too. I could sense his energy again, and now it all made sense. It felt so warm and familiar, because, for the first time ever, I was touching one of my own kind. The sensation of like touching like was indescribable, something I knew now that every human being on the planet took for granted. But to have never experienced this at all, and then to suddenly find it, after seventeen years. . . oh god, it was like sinking into a warm bath and not knowing where my skin ended and the water began.

  Seb’s eyes were so full of wonder that he looked almost frightened, and I knew he was feeling exactly the same thing. Other knowledge came too: snapshots from his life, swirling through my head. The orphanage he’d been abandoned in, life on the streets, a young offenders’ place that was so horrific I found myself wincing in pity. More than that, I got a sense of him. His inner strength. The teasing sense of humour he’d somehow hung onto, the charm that hid the utter loneliness he felt sometimes. He’d known he was half-angel since he was a small child – had felt alone for most of his life. He’d searched for so many years. So many.

  And underneath everything, steady as a heartbeat, was an emotion so intense it took my breath away.

  No, I have to be wrong about that, I thought in confusion. He couldn’t feel that way about me – it didn’t make any sense. We’d only just met each other.

  “How did you find me?” I asked finally.

  Seb looked down at our hands together; his fingers tightened. “You dreamed about me,” he said huskily. I stiffened. Oh my god, how did he know that? “You dreamed we were in a park in el DF, so I came here,” he went on. “I’ve been coming to Chapultepec for weeks, trying to find you. ”