Angel's Breath: The Second Book of Fallen Angels

by Valmore Daniels

  Darcy peered inside the garbage and reached inside. When she pulled her hand out, she held a paper cup. Propping it on the table, she stood back.

  “Now, I’ve only been doing this a week or so. I wish Neil were here,” she said, her words catching in her throat. “He had years of practice.”

  “I’m all ears,” I said.

  Darcy motioned to the cup. “When your emotions are riding high, the power controls you. Only with the absence of emotion can you control it.”

  When next she spoke, I could not hear a word of what she said. In fact, I might not have ever known she was speaking except that her lips were moving slightly. It was some kind of prayer.

  Her eyes became unfocused, her shoulders dropped, and her breathing evened.

  That was when my gut cramped. I could feel the power gathering around her. It was as if she were drawing energy from the very molecules in the air.

  Her entire body seemed to expand as it filled up with whatever it was that gave us the power.

  Slowly, she raised her hand in that same manner as she had earlier, when she used the power against Al and his men.

  Expecting something spectacular and explosive, I grabbed Stacy by her shoulders and pulled her back.

  A thin tendril of smoke drifted up from the paper cup. A tiny wisp of flame—smaller than a lit match—erupted and danced along the lip of the cup.

  As the paper blackened and started to curl, Darcy turned to me.

  “Put it out.”

  “What?”

  She gave me a half-smile and nodded toward the burning cup. “Gently, blow out the flame.”

  Releasing Stacy, I stepped forward to come in line with where Darcy was standing, and blinked at the growing flame consuming the paper cup.

  “Empty your mind of everything else,” Darcy said, her voice even. “There is nothing in the world except that cup and that fire. Look at it, and imagine the flame going out. Imagine that you are blowing it out like you blow out the candles on a birthday cake. But imagine doing that from here, and with your mind, not your mouth.”

  I took a deep breath, and then let it out slowly.

  “Listen as hard as you can,” Darcy said. “Can you hear the paper burning?”

  Straining, I could barely make out a very faint sound, though I don’t know if it was the sound of the fire, or just my wishful thinking. Either way, it forced me to focus my concentration, and I felt an electric tingle course through me, as if my veins pumped pure energy, rather than blood, through my body.

  I had felt the sensation both times I had used the power before, but those times it had been raw and untamed. It had left me battered and spent. The effects had rendered me physically sick the first time, and unconscious the last.

  This time was different. Following Darcy’s directions, the power that entered me was clean and smooth, full of promise rather than anger and desperation.

  I imagined drawing all the particles of air around us in, focusing them into a zephyr that I would direct toward the paper cup.

  The moment I pushed that light breeze out, I felt an immense surge of power exploding outward A sharp lance of pain went through my body, as if I had had the wind knocked out of me.

  A blast of air shot forward. It was so powerful it ripped the table off the ground and sent it sailing into a copse of shrubs at the edge of the clearing.

  Beside me, the force of the wind also pulled Darcy and Stacy forward. Both struggled to keep their balance as they stumbled after the picnic table.

  When I saw they were both all right—though more than a little disheveled from the harsh gust—I felt my face redden. “Sorry. I guess I’m not very good at controlling it.”

  Darcy, pushing her hair back with her fingers, said, “No, you did all right for your first attempt. This time it was you who summoned the power. It was your decision to call it up. You’ve never done that before; am I right?”

  I thought about it, and then nodded. “Yeah.”

  Then I saw the look on Stacy’s face. Even though she had said that she believed me, it was different from witnessing it herself.

  “Oh, my goodness,” she said finally. “You made that tornado in your house.”

  Not sure which direction her reaction was taking her, I nodded but didn’t say anything right away.

  She brushed a strand of hair from her face. “I think I have to sit down for a minute.”

  I followed her to the tree stump bench and reached out to help her sit down. It was a good sign that she didn’t shrug me off.

  “Are you going to be all right?” I asked.

  “Yeah,” she said, looking up at me. “I just have to let it all sink in. It’s like, before today, I thought the world was flat, if you know what I mean.”

  “I know.”

  Giving me a nod of assurance, she said, “I’ll be fine.” She made a shooing motion with her hand. “You need to go practice before you start a hurricane or something.”

  With a final look to make sure Stacy was all right, I went to help Darcy tip the picnic table up and drag it back to its original position.

  I practiced summoning wind and directing it over the next half an hour until I was exhausted. At the end, I was able to put out any fire Darcy started without damaging anything, or anyone, else.

  Stacy offered to drive the rest of the way to Vancouver, and Darcy sat up front with her.

  I was exhausted and fell into a deep sleep, waking only when we pulled into the all-night diner down the street from The Gaming Boys.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  I drank far too much coffee while we waited. My head buzzed, and I could feel a massive headache coming on, though I wasn’t completely certain my activities from the night before hadn’t contributed to it. Darcy told me there were always physical side effects of using the power. Sometimes they were strong; sometimes they were subtle.

  “What time does the hobby shop open?” Darcy asked.

  “Ten. In about two hours.” Stacy looked up as the morning shift waitress approached. “We might as well get something to eat, and then maybe we can go and check it out.”

  I hadn’t felt hungry until the moment Stacy mentioned ordering breakfast, and then realized I was famished. I ordered more than I normally ate, and to my surprise, finished every morsel on my plate.

  I dug through my pockets to look for cash, and was more than slightly embarrassed that I only had ten dollars on me.

  “Let me.” Stacy pulled her wallet out of her purse and dropped a couple of twenties on the table, and Darcy added several crumpled bills to the pile for her share.

  “I’ll pay you back,” I said. “As soon as I can get to a bank.”

  Stacy shook her head. “Until we get through this, I don’t think that’s such a good idea. Tracing your account will be the first thing the cops do, don’t you think?”

  She was right, and I felt my face go red. Al had chided us for being stupid, and here I was not thinking again.

  Darcy stood up. “Maybe your brother’s friend will show up to work early.”

  We left the diner and drove the car past The Gaming Boys, the last unit on the left side of a four-store strip mall, which had a convenience store, dry-cleaners, and a one of those “make-your-own” wine stores.

  While the convenience store and the cleaners were open, the hobby store was sealed up tight.

  “If Eugene’s anything like my brother, we’ll be lucky if he shows up on time.”

  I drove half a block more and pulled into a supermarket parking lot. Turning the ignition off, but leaving the key in so the radio would continue playing, I opened the car door.

  “Where are you going?” Stacy asked. “We’ve got at least half an hour before it opens up.”

  “Just going to grab a bottle of orange juice,” I said, offering her what I hoped was a reassuring smile. “Did you want anything?” When both women shook their heads, I said, “I’ll be right back.”

  * * *

  I headed toward the superma
rket entrance, walking as casually as I could force myself. When I was almost there, I veered off and, checking over my shoulder to make sure Stacy and Darcy weren’t looking, quickly made my way across the street to a small internet café I had spotted when pulling into the parking lot.

  It took a moment for my eyes to adjust to the darkness of the café, and when they did, I spied a kid who looked no more than sixteen.

  “Hey,” I said to him, walking up. “Wanna make ten bucks fast?”

  “I don’t do that shit, you perve,” he shot back.

  “No.” I cleared my throat, hoping no one else in the café had heard him. “I’m not so good on a computer, but I need to look something up, and I need it in a hurry.”

  He glared at me suspiciously, but then said, “Show me the green.”

  I pulled out the ten dollars from my front pocket and dropped it on the table beside the computer.

  “What do you want to find out?” he asked.

  I told him, and within two minutes, I found out what I needed to know.

  * * *

  Back at the car, I slid into the seat, and raised an eyebrow when I saw Stacy touching up her makeup.

  “Is it almost time?” I asked.

  With a glance at the digital clock in the dash, Stacy nodded. “But if I could ask one thing.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Let me go in by myself.”

  I frowned. “I’m not sure that’s such a good idea.”

  “Whether Chuck contacted him or not, Eugene doesn’t know any of us. If three people show up looking like we’ve been through, well, what we’ve been through, anyone in their right mind would get spooked. If it’s just me, a worried sister looking for her missing brother, I think it’ll go over better.”

  I glanced into the back seat to see Darcy’s reaction to the suggestion. She nodded at me, so I said, “All right. We’ll go into the convenience store next to it and browse through magazines or something.”

  With our plan set, we got out of the car and walked the half a block to the strip mall. The Gaming Boys open sign wasn’t turned on, but the door was propped open, and I saw a bulky young man moving a cardboard display around inside.

  As agreed, Darcy and I entered the convenience store as Stacy ducked into the hobby shop, flashing me a quick smile before she disappeared inside.

  Casually, I sauntered over to the magazine rack and picked one at random. Flipping through the pages without really paying attention to its contents, I slowly became aware that Darcy was looking at me.

  “What?” I asked.

  “How was your orange juice?” she asked.

  My insides flip-flopped and I realized I had forgotten to buy a drink at the supermarket.

  “I, uh, it was fine,” I said in a stammer, the lie uncomfortable on my lips.

  She gave me an unwavering look. “It’s not like I’m trying to hide anything. It’s just very painful to talk about and difficult to explain. You should know that, after what happened to you the past few days.”

  “I’m not sure I understand what you mean.”

  “Yes you do.” Darcy reached over, grabbed a magazine, and flipped through it. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the clerk watching us. “You were checking up on me when you went into that internet café.”

  I blanched at her accusation.

  “There’s no use pretending otherwise.” She glared at me, and her jaw clenched and unclenched. “I couldn’t control it. When the sheriff shot Neil, the rage just burst out of me. I couldn’t stop myself; I couldn’t stop it.”

  “You … killed the sheriff?” The question popped out of my mouth.

  It took her a moment to get herself under control. Anger and pain clouded her face.

  “Did you happen to catch the news from Seattle yesterday?” she asked. “The authorities determined your mother was killed from a gunshot, not from the tornado. Since they can’t find you, they think you killed her. Someone thought there might be insurance money involved. They also mentioned that you’re a felon with a history of breaking and entering.”

  “It didn’t happen that way,” I said, the words coming out automatically, and I felt that anger rise up in me.

  “So there we have it.” She slipped the magazine back on the rack. “The news doesn’t always have the real story.”

  With that, she stepped past me. “Let’s go see if your girlfriend found anything out.”

  * * *

  Everything looked perfectly normal when we walked into the hobby store, except that there was no sign of Stacy.

  The hefty young man I had seen moving a cardboard display, and who I assumed was Eugene, stood behind a glass counter. His hair was a rusty red color, and I suddenly understood his nickname, GingerBeef.

  Dozens of fantasy and science fiction figurines, game boxes and other collectibles were spread both inside and on top of the counter. Along the walls behind him were shelves filled with displays of things I could only guess were paraphernalia for whatever board games they played. On the wall opposite him were bookshelves filled with paperbacks and comics.

  The narrow door in the wall that separated the front half of the store from the back was closed. I hadn’t had cause to visit many gaming or hobby shops, but I assumed the back was where gamers gathered.

  “Are you Eugene?” Darcy asked.

  “Yeah,” Eugene said.

  There was something odd about him. He was very abrupt with us, almost as if we were bothering him. In high school, before I dropped out, I had always found the computer geeks hard to figure out. They were an awkward bunch, both physically and socially. Chuck had overcompensated by being forward and unapologetic; perhaps Eugene was just feeling nervous in front of Darcy. After all, she was stunningly beautiful; most likely not the regular sort of customer he was used to.

  “Did Stacy come in here?” I asked.

  He rubbed a thin trickle of sweat from his upper lip, and then pointed a thumb to the closed door. “Yeah. She said you’d be here soon. She and Chuck are in the back.”

  I felt an immediate surge of relief—Chuck was here and he was all right. I nodded. “Thanks.”

  Striding to the door, I reached out to open it when I heard Darcy call out. “Hey!”

  When I turned my head around to look, I saw Eugene running out the front faster than I thought possible, considering his bulk.

  The back door opened behind me. When I turned around, I was staring down the barrel of the gun Al pointed at me. I had fallen for the same trap for the second time.

  He beckoned us in as Nick pushed past us to secure the front door.

  I raised my hands in front of me and stepped into the back room. Stacy and Chuck sat at an octagonal-shaped gaming table. Tom stood behind them, the end of his gun resting against the back of Stacy’s head. They obviously learned their lesson. They had seen me deflect a bullet fired from a distance, but there was no way I could do anything if Tom pulled the trigger now.

  “God, Rich,” Chuck said. “I’m so sorry. They got me last night; tracked me to Eugene’s house. I had no choice. They said they’d let the rest of us go if I helped them.” At the last sentence, he glanced across to the other side of the room, looking both hopeful and hopeless at the same time.

  Sitting in a high-backed manager’s chair beside a bank of computers, David Matheson took a deep breath and gave Al a complimentary smile.

  My stomach twisted.

  Al gestured for us to sit in two of the empty chairs at the gaming table opposite Stacy and Chuck.

  “What did I tell you, Mr. Matheson?” Al said. “Dumb as stumps, all of them.”

  “Thank you, Al.” He cast a casual glance over the four of us. “Please tell the father to come out so we can begin.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  There was one thing all five of us had in common. We were all orphans to some degree; some of us more recently than others. My mother was dead. My father had disowned me, so the chances of him being here were beyond calculation.
Darcy had said her parents had died in a house fire ten years ago, and Chuck and Stacy’s parents had died in a car accident when they were kids.

  Terence Matheson had died in front of me yesterday morning, and his wife had passed away more than twenty years ago.

  We were all orphans.

  So, when David said ‘father’, all of us looked around with puzzled faces, wondering who he was talking about.

  Our silent question was answered when Al stepped back out to the front half of the store. From where I was standing in the archway, I turned and watched as the mercenary headed to the washroom and opened the door a crack.

  “We’re ready for you now,” Al said, and held the door open.

  I was more than a little startled to see an older man come out of the washroom. He was balding on top and the hair on the sides and back of his head was dark silver. Though thin of frame, he looked healthy and spry. He wore a black suit with a white collar at his throat.

  The priest held two sets of rosaries with gold cross pendants in one hand and a decorative crystal vial in the other. I recalled that Terence had had a rosary around his neck when he died.

  The priest saw me looking at him, and immediately touched the tips of his fingers to his forehead, heart, and both shoulders. Then he lifted the cross pendants to his lips and kissed them one after another, all the while muttering a prayer under his breath.

  Al lifted his gun in my direction and motioned for me to move out of the way and let the priest pass.

  I shot an alarmed glance at Darcy, and she shook her head.

  “What’s this all about?” I asked, trying to keep the nervousness from my voice.

  David approached the priest and stood beside him. With a nod to the holy man, he ordered, “I need both of you to kneel down. Put your hands together as if you are praying.”

  Starting to grow angry, I spoke with some heat in my voice. “I don’t think so.”

  David, controlling his temper a lot better than I was, said, “Let me explain how this is going to go down. You and Darcy—” He glanced at her. “—yes, we did some research on you. You’ve left quite a bloody trail behind you, young lady.”