Angel 2 - Burn

by L. A. Weatherly

  He began to type:

  From: Jonah@churchofangels.com

  To:LHGrimes@churchofangels.daltoncity.com; PSullivan@churchofangels.daltoncity.com

  Hi, thanks for copying me in on this. We’ll look forward to hearing what the outcome is in regard to the couple staying at the motel. If it’s them, please don’t hesitate; take appropriate action immediately.

  Blessed in the Angels,

  Jonah Fisk

  I was flying.

  Even in my sleep, I smiled to myself. What an amazing feeling, to be so weightless, so free. Spreading my gleaming wings, I hovered above my slumbering body in the motel room. Alex was asleep in the next bed, lying on his stomach. I could see the light of his energy, his tousled dark hair, the tattoo on his bicep as he lay with his head on his wrist. Part of me just wanted to stay there, gazing at him, but I knew that I couldn’t wait — I had something I needed to do. Slowly, moving my wings, I started to lift. Going through the ceiling was like passing through a ripple of water. I passed through the room above, too; it was empty, with unmade beds. Traveling faster now, I soared through the motel roof.

  It was midmorning; I burst out into strong sunshine. Spiraling once, I glided downward, feeling the warmth on my wings.

  And then I saw him.

  There was a man looking in through our motel room window, wearing tan pants and a short-sleeved plaid shirt. He had a camera. He was trying to take photos, but I could feel his frustration — it was too dark in the room. He didn’t know who was in there, and he had to find out; it was urgent. As I watched, he aimed the camera again at the inch or two of open curtain.

  In a dizzying rush, I flew back to my body.

  I woke up with a jerk under the crisp motel sheets. I was in the room; it felt like morning. Relief swam through me as I exhaled. It was just a dream. I’d been flying, and I’d gone outside —

  I stiffened as I heard a noise: a slight shifting, like someone standing nearby. Slowly, hardly daring to breathe, I rolled my head sideways on the pillow. The curtains were open a crack, just like I’d seen. And there was the dark outline of a man, standing on the walkway outside.

  Oh, God, it wasn’t a dream; it was real. I lay there, my pulse echoing in my ears. Could he see us? Could he see who I was? I watched, too scared to look away, as the man tried to peer in, his head moving behind the curtain. Finally I heard the sound of a car approaching, and he abruptly left. The room lightened a fraction as a slit of sunshine angled in through the window.

  Flinging my covers back, I lunged across to Alex’s bed and shook his shoulder. “Alex! Alex, wake up!”

  “Mm?” He stirred, lifting his head from the pillow. “What is it?”

  “There was a man looking in our window.”

  He came awake in a second, sitting up. “When? Just now?”

  I rubbed my arms; I felt cold suddenly. “Yes, I saw him. He was looking in through the crack in the curtains. Then a car came, and he left.”

  Alex swore, glancing at the window.

  “I’d better close the curtains —” I started off his bed; he stopped me with a touch on the arm.

  “No, don’t — then he’ll know we saw him.” He sat silently, gazing at the window and tapping his fingers on his knee. “OK. Whoever it is can’t know for sure it’s you, or else he wouldn’t have been trying to look in. But he’s going to be watching the room now — we’ve got to get out of here somehow without him seeing you.”

  The fact that Alex already seemed to be planning what we should do helped my own mind to clear, and my panic faded slightly. “The bathroom window?” I suggested.

  His dark eyebrows rose as he considered it. He nodded. “Maybe — I could kick the screen out —”

  We both jumped as the phone rang.

  Our eyes met, startled, as it shrilled through the room again. Finally Alex leaned across the bed and picked it up. “Hello?” I couldn’t believe how relaxed he sounded, as if he’d just woken up and was still half groggy. There was a pause; I could hear a man’s voice. “OK,” said Alex finally. “Thanks. I just got up; I’ll be there in about an hour.”

  He looked at me as he hung up. “The garage, supposedly. They said that the car’s ready.”

  My eyes flicked to the gap in the curtains. “It — it could be someone trying to lure us out of the room.”

  “Yeah, it could,” he said.

  We both stared up at the digital clock on the TV. It was ten twenty.

  “He said the car wouldn’t be ready until around noon, but . . . ” Alex trailed off, his face intense, thoughtful. “It sounded like him, though. And he seemed OK to you, right?”

  I shrugged, not really wanting our lives to depend on this. “As far as I could tell, but . . . ”

  “I think we’ll have to take a chance.” Alex moved suddenly, throwing his covers back and getting out of bed on the other side from me. “Keep out of sight while I get dressed, OK?”

  He grabbed his things and went into the bathroom. Shakily, I went and sat down at the table; it was close enough to the outside wall that no one would be able to see me. I heard Alex take what had to have been the fastest shower in history, and a few minutes later he was out again, dressed in jeans and a gray T-shirt, his hair damp. I watched as he moved around the room, throwing clothes into his bag. Finally he took his pistol from the dresser and tucked it into his holster; I caught a glimpse of toned, flat stomach.

  “I’ll go get us some breakfast,” he said.

  “What? Alex, I’m not exactly hungry right now.”

  He smiled slightly. “No, me neither. But if he sees me coming in with breakfast for both of us, he’ll think we’re staying in here for a while.” He looked at the window again. “Get dressed while I’m gone, OK? But make sure you’re not seen.”

  I rose from the chair, my legs feeling weak. “Alex, be careful.”

  “I’ll be fine. No one’s going to do anything until they know it’s you. Just keep out of sight, all right? Lock the dead bolt when I go, and check the peephole when you hear me knock.”

  I nodded, determined that I was going to at least pretend to be as calm as he was. “Yes, all right.”

  Alex’s gaze lingered on me for a moment. “Don’t worry. We’ll be OK,” he said softly. And then he left, his body language casual as he went out the door and closed it behind him.

  I locked the door, then grabbed my clothes from the day before and scurried into the bathroom. Knowing that he’d be gone at least five minutes, I jumped in and out of the shower and then got dressed, twisting my wet hair up under the baseball cap. Then I finished packing, shoving my clothes and our bathroom things into Alex’s bag as well. When I came to the picture that Mom had taken of me, I wrapped it carefully in tissues and tucked it into my drawstring bag.

  Just as I was fastening the bag shut, a knock sounded through the room. Even though I knew it was probably Alex, my heart leaped into my throat. I edged over to the door, craning on my tiptoes to look out the peephole. “It’s me,” said Alex’s voice at the same time. I could see him standing outside, balancing two cups of coffee and a napkin full of donuts.

  I undid the lock, then shut the door hastily after him as he came in. “Did you see anyone?”

  He nodded as he dumped the food onto the table. “Yeah, there’s a guy at the far end of the parking lot, sort of hanging around outside his car.” He took a quick slurp out of one of the coffees, glancing at me. “Are you ready?”

  “Yeah, I think so.” I looked at the small pile of white-powdered donuts and thought I’d never felt less hungry in my life.

  “Good, then let’s get out of here.”

  I followed Alex as he went into the bathroom. The window there was only half the size of the ones in the bedroom, but still large enough to climb through. Beyond, there were some pine trees and a road; I could hear cars going past. Alex slid the window open and balanced himself up on the toilet. A short, hard kick to the screen, then another one. It fell out with a clatter, landing on
the ground below. And even though it seriously wasn’t the time to be noticing it, for a second I found myself just . . . admiring the way he moved. His muscles were so fluid, so confident.

  Alex jumped back down and went and got his nylon bag, which he lowered toward the ground outside, then let drop. My drawstring bag followed after it. “Can you climb out?” he asked me. The window was sort of high up, almost at chest level.

  “If you help me up.”

  Now that we were actually getting out, I felt almost calm. I put my hands on the sill, and Alex gave me a boost, lifting me up by the waist. I went through the window and twisted around. Holding on to the sill, I dangled my legs down and then dropped to the ground, stumbling a little as I landed on the screen. I shoved it out of the way, along with our bags. The window was more of a squeeze for Alex, but a few seconds later he had squirmed out and jumped down beside me.

  “Can you close the window if I lift you up?” he said, looking back at it. “Just in case he gets in — he might think that he somehow missed us going out the front.”

  I shook my head, almost smiling. “You think of everything, don’t you?”

  His mouth twitched. “I try. Here, get on my shoulders.” He bent down. Resting a hand on the hardness of his shoulder, I straddled his neck; he looped his arms over my legs and lifted me up as lightly as if I didn’t weigh a thing. Stretching upward, I slid the window shut, trying not to notice how it felt to be so close to him.

  When I was on the ground again, Alex glanced out toward the road. “You’d better stay here while I go for the car. Will you be OK?”

  We were in a small grove of pine trees, partially hidden. I nodded. “Yeah, I think so.”

  He hesitated as he gazed down at me, his eyes troubled. “I don’t suppose you’d take my gun if I gave it to you, would you?”

  The thought sent chills through me. My eyes flickered to his waistband, where I knew the gun lay under the gray T-shirt hanging loosely over his jeans. “Uh — no. I seriously couldn’t use a gun on anyone, Alex.”

  He sighed, shoving his hair back. “No, I didn’t think so. Look, just keep out of sight, OK? Keep safe. I’ll be back as fast as I can.”

  “Be careful,” I said. My throat felt dry suddenly. “I mean — please, be really careful.”

  “I will.” He turned and walked out toward the road, his hands shoved casually in his back pockets. A few minutes later, he had turned the corner and was gone from sight. The trees seemed to fall very still. I put my sunglasses on and sat leaning against the outside wall of the motel with my arms wrapped around my knees, trying to make myself as inconspicuous as possible. It was warm, even here in the shade; I could feel the back of my neck growing damp.

  The minutes passed, stretching out. I tried to count them, wondering if Alex had had time yet to reach the garage. Oh, God, please let him be OK, I thought. Please let whoever was watching us think that we were still sitting in the room, eating too-sweet donuts and drinking awful motel coffee.

  After a while my legs started to feel stiff. I stood up, leaning against the rough gray bark of a pine tree as I stared anxiously out at the road. He must have gotten there by now. What was taking him so long? Across the road, a woman wearing a bright yellow sundress sat waiting for a bus. There was a baby stroller next to her; as I watched, she peered into it, laughing and shaking her head, and then reached in as if she was adjusting her baby’s blanket. She looked so happy that my nervousness faded slightly.

  The woman glanced up, her expression startled. I followed her gaze, and my heart faltered.

  There was an angel flying toward her.

  The bark dug into my cheek as I pressed against the tree. I didn’t want to watch, but I couldn’t stop. The angel appeared female, with long hair that flowed past its shoulders. Its robes swayed gently as it landed, its glorious wings spread. The angel folded them behind its back and started forward. Light streamed from its fingers as it rested its hands on the woman, who was gazing up at it with awestruck wonder. And then it began to feed.

  The woman’s life energy came into my view. I could see it draining, collapsing in on itself, fading from a vibrant pink and violet to a dull gray. But the woman just sat there on the bench, staring up at the angel with an expression of such love and gratitude that I had to duck my head away, screwing my eyes tightly shut. From what seemed a great distance, I heard her baby start to cry.

  The sound of a car approaching, then slowing down. I forced myself to look. It was Alex, pulling over to the curb. Across the street behind him, the angel was still feeding, its wings slowly opening and closing like a butterfly on a flower. Its halo gleamed; its beautiful face was tipped back, smiling.

  Move! I shouted at myself. You have to! My legs felt wobbly and unsure of themselves. Ignoring them, I grabbed our bags and ran for the car. As I came out of the shade, the angel seemed to explode into brilliance, sunshine bursting off its white wings. Alex leaned across the seat, opening the door for me; I shoved the bags in, and he swung them into the back. I threw myself into the seat and slammed the door. “Hurry — let’s get out of here,” I said, my voice shaking.

  He pulled away from the curb, looking sharply at me. “What is it? Did you see someone?”

  I shook my head. And I didn’t want to, but I had to — I twisted to look over my shoulder. The angel was gone; there was a woman standing in her place with long black hair and a pretty white top. As I watched, she touched her victim on the shoulder and drifted off down the sidewalk. The woman blinked, looking dazed. As we rounded the corner, I could see her reaching for her baby, and then she passed from view.

  “Willow? What is it?” asked Alex.

  “Nothing,” I managed, turning forward again. “So, you made it to the garage OK.”

  He nodded, shifting gears as we came to a stoplight. “Yeah, it was fine. I think we got away clear — I saw the guy still standing there watching our room as I drove past.”

  “Thank God.” Relief rushed through me, followed by something almost like guilt, that I could feel relieved for myself after what I’d just seen.

  Alex was watching me; he frowned in concern. “Willow, come on, talk to me. What’s wrong?”

  I didn’t want to say it. My fingernails dug into my palms as I let out an unsteady breath. “There . . . was an angel, feeding on a woman across the street from the motel.”

  He winced. “Oh, Christ. No wonder you looked so upset. Are you OK?”

  “I’m fine. I doubt that the woman is.”

  “Yeah, I know,” he said in a low voice.

  There was a pause. I gazed out the window, still seeing the angel’s wings moving back and forth and the woman’s life energy fading away as she sat there smiling. “How come I’ve never seen that before?” I asked thinly. “Up in Pawtucket?”

  “There aren’t that many angels in upstate New York,” said Alex. “I don’t know why; there seem to be some regions they like better than others.”

  “But — the Church of Angels in Schenectady is huge.”

  “It only had one angel, though, from the sounds of it. They kept mentioning our angel during the service.”

  I went cold. “One angel and . . . all those people?”

  Alex glanced at me. Sounding reluctant, he said, “Some of them really like variety. They might feed on a dozen different people a day.” The light changed to green; we started forward. I sat in silence, and then I felt his gaze on me again. “Listen, I know how hard it is when you see it happening, but try not to think about it, OK? There wasn’t anything you could do.”

  The words burst out of me. “Yeah, and how exactly am I supposed to not think about it? Alex, do you know how I knew there was someone outside our room? I was having a dream that I was flying, and I knew I had to go outside, and I saw him — I had wings, just like that thing back there. Except that it wasn’t a dream at all, was it? I did have wings. I —” I broke off, my mouth tightening. No, I wasn’t going to cry. I was not.

  We came to the turn
off for the interstate. With a shrug, Alex accelerated as he merged. “If that’s how you found out, then I’m glad it happened. If you hadn’t seen what you did, we both might be dead right now.”

  And I knew he was right, but that just seemed . . . too easy somehow. I shook my head, my feelings too tangled to put into words.

  For a few minutes, neither of us spoke. I curled up with my head against the seat, staring out at the passing cars and the high green hills. Then Alex looked across at me. “Hey,” he said. “You were right about the air filter, too, you know. It needed to be replaced.”

  “Yeah?” Was I actually supposed to care?

  He nodded, his fingers lightly tapping the wheel. “So, how come you know so much about cars, anyway?”

  I grimaced. “Alex, I don’t feel like —”

  “Come on, tell me. I’d like to know.” His eyes met mine, and my throat clenched at the understanding I saw there. He knew exactly how I felt; he was trying to help. “Did you take a class on it in school or something?” he went on.

  A few billboards flashed past. I stared out at them, still seeing the woman; still hearing her baby cry. “No, it wasn’t offered.”

  “How, then?”

  I sighed and shifted in the seat. “Do you really, seriously want to know this?”

  He smiled. “Yes, I really, seriously want to know this.”

  “OK.” I sat up, trying to gather my thoughts. “It was because of my aunt Jo. See, Mom and I have lived with her from the time I was nine, and she’s always been sort of horrible about it. I mean, she helps take care of Mom, but she’s always complaining about how expensive it is, having us both there. Anyway, one day her car broke down, and she just wouldn’t stop talking about how much it was going to cost. So I went to the library and got a book on do-it-yourself car repair, and I fixed it.”

  Alex laughed out loud, and something hard and tight eased within me. The pain in my hands faded as my nails relaxed from my palms.