Battle Angel

by Scott Speer

  “No need for formalities here, Ms. Montgomery.” He had a lilting Southern accent that immediately put Maddy at ease. “You are dismissed.” He nodded to the sailor flanking Maddy, who promptly saluted and left them.

  “I know all about your reputation, young lady. Well, at least through my daughter. So when I got the call from the big guy saying we were bringing you on board to coordinate our forces on the front line, I was a little surprised,” Captain Blake said. “I’m not so sure about this, but if they say it will help, hell, I’m open to trying. Anything to stop these demon bastards.”

  “I don’t want to make any promises, Captain,” Maddy admitted. “But I’m going to try. That’s all I can do.”

  “Sounds like you have some courage, then,” the captain said. “You’re going to need it.”

  Maddy nodded.

  Captain Blake motioned to the sailor standing just outside the door.

  “This petty officer will show you to your quarters,” he said. “Any questions?”

  Privately, Maddy had about a million and one. But they could wait.

  “No, sir,” Maddy said, saluting again.

  The captain smiled. “You know, technically I should probably be saluting you.” He brought his hand to his temple and gave a quick salute. Maddy blushed again and went off with the waiting officer.

  Because she was both a guest and an officer, Maddy had been given her own cabin. And after seeing the enlisted seamen’s quarters, she was more than grateful—the sailors were stacked like sardines in a giant room, bunks running everywhere. Maddy slung her bag up on the unoccupied top bunk, a great luxury on a warship.

  Just then, she heard a knock at the door, and a familiar voice spoke.

  “Maddy?”

  Tom.

  Before she knew it, she was wrapped up in his embrace, blissfully pressed up against him.

  “You’re all right,” she half-whispered, her voice quavering with relief.

  “I made a promise, didn’t I?”

  She could hear the steady rhythm of his heartbeat through the cloth of his uniform as he reached his hand down to lightly stroke her hair.

  “It’s hard to believe you’re actually here,” he said. “Maddy, I’ve been thinking about you—” His voice peaked with emotion as he struggled to maintain control.

  “Shh,” she said. “We’ll have time to talk about that later.”

  “I’m sorry. I’m a little all over the place,” he said. “We lost some men in the first attack. All of them good, some of them friends.”

  “Tom, I’m so sorry. . . .”

  “I don’t know how long we can last, Maddy,” Tom said. A darkness she’d never heard before had crept into his voice.

  “Don’t say that,” Maddy said, straightening and looking him in the eyes.

  Even though it’d only been a few days, something had changed in Tom. His eyes were a deeper shade, heavier, as if they had seen something they should have never, ever seen. His face looked gaunt, and Maddy wondered when he’d slept last.

  Tom turned to her and met her worried gaze.

  “You’re right,” he said. “And what am I even saying? With you here, now we have an advantage. We’ll see them coming before they even know it.”

  “And don’t forget I have the navy’s top pilot standing right in front of me,” Maddy said. “Don’t tell me all those awards were for nothing.”

  Tom laughed, and it warmed Maddy’s heart—which really needed some warming. She herself had huge doubts about their ability to hold out at all against the demons, but if staying optimistic kept Tom in good spirits and kept her from slipping too far into despair, then a hopeful attitude won out, hands down.

  “I . . . love you, Maddy.” His eyes were wide as he said it, and Maddy had never seen him look so . . . vulnerable.

  She leaned in and kissed him lightly. Tom pulled her in closer and their lips were pressing harder now, more insistent. Maddy felt light-headed.

  “Someone might see us,” she said.

  “I don’t care,” he said. They continued kissing, both swept away in the moment. Finally they lips separated and Maddy leaned her face against his chest.

  “Maddy . . . you’re crying,” Tom said.

  Maddy quickly wiped the tears away. “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be.”

  Tom looked down at her, a wisp of a smile on his handsome face.

  “Let’s get you out of these civilian clothes and into something a little more . . . special.”

  “Special?” Maddy asked.

  “Just follow me.”

  • • •

  Maddy looked at herself in the full-length mirror, unsure. From the waitress uniform to designer dresses to Guardian robes and now . . . this?

  Tom smiled appreciatively. “Fits like a glove.”

  The customized flight suit had been created especially for her. Instead of the normal olive-green coveralls, hers was a rich dark blue, to distinguish her from the rest of the flight crew and pilots. Special Kevlar-lined slits in the back allowed her wings to extend and retract seamlessly, and sealed when they weren’t extended. Stitched on her right shoulder was an American flag insignia; on the left was a Global Angel Commission patch.

  And the finishing touch: Tom’s brass flight wings.

  “You really do look great,” Tom said.

  “You think so? It feels comfortable, I guess. But still. You’ve had so much training you’ve earned the right to wear a flight suit. Don’t I look like a fraud?”

  “Maddy, you’ve had training from me, remember?” Tom said. “And according to you, I’m the best. That means you’re almost the best!”

  Maddy was happy to see him joking around.

  “Now your pilot wings truly fit you, Lieutenant Commander,” he said.

  “I still can’t believe they gave me that title.”

  “What were they supposed to call you? Miss?” Tom said. “Hell no. You’re helping command forces, Maddy. And you know something? You outrank me now. You could order me around! That’s actually kind of kinky. . . .”

  “Lieutenant, you’re being impertinent!” It felt good to laugh a little; it’d been too long.

  “You know, the other guys here are going to want your autograph,” Tom said. “I might get jealous.”

  “Don’t worry about the other guys,” Maddy said playfully.

  But suddenly Tom looked uneasy. Had she said something wrong?

  “What is it?” she asked.

  “It’s . . . nothing,” he said, his face turning hard toward the ocean.

  The other guys. His friends. He was thinking about the men who’d perished in the attacks. Tom looked back at her, his face softening again. “Have I told you how glad I am that you’re here?”

  “Just a few times.”

  “Well, I’ll say it again, then.”

  • • •

  Tom was walking Maddy back to her cabin when they passed a wounded sailor, who was being rolled out of the sick bay on a stretcher. Half of his body was wrapped in bandages, and his left arm had been amputated.

  Tom saluted the sailor, who returned the gesture with a meaningful stare. The haunted expression in his one uncovered eye said it all. Maddy could tell he’d seen something terrible, something that had frightened him beyond repair.

  But Maddy saw something else in his eyes as he passed. It was recognition. And a tiny shred of hope.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  The atmosphere in the solarium was uncommonly pleasant, although Jacks didn’t know why that would be the case. Everything was controlled and kept consistent, from temperature and airflow to flora and fauna. Nevertheless, something about today was . . . nicer.

  Gabriel and Jacks strolled along a path lined with short cherry trees on the far eastern corner of the indoor gardens. N
ormally a few of Gabriel’s sleekly clad assistants would be waiting in quiet corners for any orders, but today he had sent them out. There was something he wanted to discuss with Jacks. Alone.

  Jacks had shown up determined to focus on the politics at hand, but he was still perturbed by what had happened with Emily. How had he let himself go that far? He’d just come back from that disturbing conversation with Sylvester, and then there was Emily, ready to pounce. That’s what happens when you let your guard down, thought Jacks as he cleared his thoughts and turned his full attention to Gabriel. They crossed the stone bridge and stopped at a bench. Gabriel’s face took on a cold, serious expression.

  He reached inside his robe and pulled out a manila envelope, which he placed in the space between him and Jackson.

  “Jackson, as you know, I fought alongside your birth father in the first era of the Troubles. During that time, atrocities were committed on both sides. Too much Angel blood was shed. I don’t ever want that to happen again.

  “However, ever since the Troubles, I have sworn that although difficult decisions must be made, if a small amount of blood must be spilled to save thousands, then that blood must be shed. For the greater good, for Angelkind. I need you to understand why that must be. And know that no decision is to be taken lightly.”

  Jackson nodded silently, thinking of the centuries Gabriel had lived through, shielding the Angels the best he knew how. What must that be like? What might it do to someone to experience so much bloodshed?

  Gabriel tapped the envelope lightly with his fingers. “Open it.”

  Jacks reached down with a feeling of foreboding. He unfastened the brass brad, flipped open the flap, reached inside, and pulled out a glossy photo.

  Panic and shock zipped up Jackson’s spine and into his skull. It was a photo of Detective Sylvester.

  With Louis Kreuz.

  Kreuz was a traitor.

  “I’m assuming you know both of those men, Jackson?”

  “Yes, sir.” Jackson hadn’t told Gabriel about Sylvester’s surprise visit, but Gabriel knew the two had worked together in the past.

  “That photo was taken just a few days ago,” Gabriel said. “Are you aware that Detective Sylvester is running an anti-Angel organization here in the city?”

  “I’ve heard some things.”

  “So then you might be wondering what one of our most esteemed Angels, the head of our Guardian training program, would be doing with him. Outside the sanctuary. Wouldn’t that strike you as a bit curious, Jackson?”

  Jacks nodded. “It would, sir.”

  “This is a serious breach. Imagine, trusting someone with the most important information, and learning he’s been a traitor the whole time. Right under our noses.

  “Already, he’s posed a serious threat to each and every one of us. Our security has been compromised from the inside out. He needs to be stopped before anything else happens. This is a war we are fighting here. And we must be victorious.”

  Gabriel looked at Jackson carefully.

  “And after we stop him . . . we stop the detective. You understand what I’m asking of you?”

  “Yes, sir,” Jacks said. His stomach tightened, blood flowing with endorphins. “I understand.”

  “Good. I know this may be difficult for you,” Gabriel said, putting a gentle hand on Jackson’s shoulder. “But we must do our duty.”

  Jacks met his gaze and nodded, his eyes unblinking.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Detective Sylvester sat with his hands clasped and resting on the worn, wooden pew in front of him. His eyes drifted around the darkened sanctuary of the Blessed Sacrament Catholic Church from behind his wire-rimmed glasses. He was the only parishioner in the empty cathedral at this hour. A few candles flickered near the altar, casting light up into the vaulted arches. A soft yellow-orange glow danced along the stained-glass windows that faced the pitch-black city beyond.

  Sylvester was trying to pray. It had been a while, and he felt a block in his heart as he sat there. But he continued. He needed to. He didn’t know what else to do.

  Louis Kreuz had gone missing just hours before. He’d missed the nightly drop, and while Louis was many things, he wasn’t forgetful. And he wasn’t sloppy. The entire resistance was waiting with bated breath for any information, but so far nothing had come through.

  And Sylvester had a bad feeling.

  Despite the warm light from the candles, a chill hung in the air of the spacious cathedral. The detective coughed lightly, sending an echoing boom through the chamber.

  Again and again Sylvester wondered what he could have done differently to prevent this. The detective racked his brain trying to think of what safety measure they’d overlooked, what contingency plan they’d botched, until he was washed over with echoes of the guilt he felt over the girl he was too late to save those many years ago.

  And the worst part of all was that Sylvester knew it was useless. He’d never find the answer.

  Yet now he was moved by a different feeling as he sat in the pews he knew so well. Somehow, he needed to get square with his God, and in a hurry.

  He needed absolution.

  He clasped his hands together tightly as he bowed his head.

  Just then, the old door of the church opened with a creak, and a gust of wind sent the candles at the altar flickering. The priest had left long ago and wouldn’t be coming back this night. A strange feeling came across the detective’s entire body as he sat there kneeling. Was it anticipation? Or dread? The detective cast his eyes back to the church door.

  A dark silhouette stood in the threshold. The door closed with an echoing boom, and Sylvester knew they were alone together.

  “I thought I might find you here,” the voice said.

  “It’s you?” Sylvester said.

  “Yes. It’s me.”

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Maddy stood on the deck and watched the dawn light creep up from the East, back toward Angel City. Purple clouds splashed with pink shimmered along the horizon, and streams of golden light stretched up into the sky.

  Looking down to the water, Maddy felt dizzy. Hundreds of feet below, the dark Pacific foamed as it churned along the side of the massive ship.

  She couldn’t sleep. It was the nightmare again, more vivid than ever this time, and with one major, disturbing change. Instead of the 101, the dream took place on the aircraft carrier. Her legs were paralyzed as an enormous Dark Angel, twice as large as the one she had actually seen, towered over her, its eyes smoldering with the purest hatred. Was this Sylvester’s head demon? Tom was in the dream, too, but every time she reached for him, he seemed to drift farther away. And though she didn’t see him, she could feel Jacks’s presence, too. Right when the demon was about to close in on her, she’d woken up with a silent scream. She’d banged her head on the bunk above her as she’d bolted upright, gasping for air.

  Now on the carrier deck, Maddy heard footsteps. She turned around to find a pleasant surprise.

  “Up with the roosters?” Tom asked. Maddy smiled.

  “I wanted to see the sunrise,” she lied, not wanting to get into her grisly nightmare.

  Tom stood behind her and tentatively placed his arms around her waist.

  “It’s okay,” she told him.

  Why was he being so cautious? Maddy knew she had to do something to reassure him, so that, for just a moment, they could pretend it was just a normal day, that they were just a happy couple, sharing the first morning light together. Maddy leaned back into Tom’s strong frame and let him hold her even tighter. She turned and nuzzled against his chest, lightly pursing her lips to make a silent kiss against his upper arm. Together they stood in near silence, the only sounds their breathing and the crashing waves below.

  So why did Maddy feel afraid?

  She felt fear, but she also felt comforted. Maybe she r
eally had made the right choice.

  “I should get ready,” Maddy said. “They’ll need me soon.”

  • • •

  Maddy stood on the deck in her customized flight suit, a breeze running through her hair. It was time to start her job. There was a briefing at 0700 hours in the combat control room, and she was determined to be fresh, sharp, and attentive.

  Inside the control room were dozens of suspended computer screens glowing with green maps, each one marked at its center with the demon sinkhole. Maddy saw tiny digital crescents representing aircraft carriers and warships moving across the screens in real time.

  “All right, all right, settle down,” Captain Blake said as the pilots noisily made their way inside. He assigned Maddy to a seat right beside him, which once again made her feel like a bit of a fraud.

  The captain cleared his throat. “We have business to get to. We’ve been at war six days, and we’ve not made much progress. So I’ll cut to the chase. We’re running blind right now. We don’t know when the demons are going to strike next. Each and every aircraft that has been sent out to monitor the situation has been destroyed. Now the demons are patrolling a two-mile wide radius, taking down all our high-flying drones. So we’re relying on satellites, but the demons have caught on to that, too, and have found a way to interfere with our signals. We can’t get a clear picture. But we know one thing’s for damn sure: the sinkhole’s growing. And seismic activity in the area has spiked in the last twenty-four hours. The boys in scientific intelligence predict we’ll be seeing some action within twelve to twenty-four hours.”

  A buzz erupted in the room as the pilots reacted to the news.

  “Settle down, settle down,” the captain said. “Now. We can’t be caught by surprise like last time. We need to strike before the enemy does. And that’s where Lieutenant Commander Madison Montgomery Godright comes in. She’s been hand-selected by President Linden to help our frontline forces get the upper hand.”

  Groans and grim expressions cropped up around the room. Maddy’s face flushed and she tried to keep a brave face as the pilots turned to look at her.