“Hurry!” he shouted, and he looked our way, although he couldn’t see us. “More planes are coming. Anyone else?”
“We should at least check it out,” Tristan said. “See where they’re taking the Normans.”
We sprang up and jogged down the street.
“I don’t trust it,” Owen said.
We stopped within yards of the policeman, who continued to blow his whistle and call for civilians. Only a few more stragglers came running. A crowd had gathered at the far end of the street he directed them down, where an eight-foot-high, barbed-wire-topped fence stood.
Vanessa stiffened. “Nope. Never. No fucking way.”
I glanced around at the war-torn neighborhood, wondering what we should do. Familiar shapes emerged from a partially standing building, and although covered in white ash, I recognized them right away.
Blossom! Charlotte! Sheree! I mentally yelled for them and wondered at first if my telepathy had stopped working again because they didn’t respond. But all three of them stopped in their tracks, causing Jax and Solomon to halt, too.
“Alexis? Is that you?” Blossom nearly squealed in my head, making me cringe.
“Owen, they can’t see us.” I tugged at his shirtsleeve.
He turned to see who I meant and immediately removed the cloak.
Our reunion would have been joyous if the cop didn’t start blowing his whistle in a panic as he scampered down the street. Others jogged toward us—not unarmed cops, as they were in England, but well-armed soldiers. Oversized, beefed up, frightening ones. The kind that looked like they may have had some lykora blood.
“Come with us,” one of them said to us as they ran. “We offer shelter and safety.”
“Hell no,” I muttered.
“You are required to come,” he said, and they raised their guns to point toward us. “You come, or we’ll shoot.”
“Good luck with that.” Owen said as he waved his hands to cloak our group. “We need to get out of here.”
The heavy steps of the soldiers followed us for half a block, apparently expecting us to show again. When we didn’t, they started shooting. Someone obviously watched and controlled their trigger fingers.
“This way,” Solomon said, turning us down a narrow road to our left.
More planes soared overhead. The soldiers behind us stopped firing and retreated.
“To that church,” Solomon said, and we began running as more bombs fell.
We crashed inside and slammed the wooden doors shut. Charlotte ran down the center aisle of the sanctuary, toward a door in the back.
“There are usually bomb shelters downstairs,” she said, and we all followed her.
Through the door was a corridor with two passageways and several more doors leading off of it. We checked each one until we found steps leading downward into a cellar apparently used for storage. Metal racks lined the stone walls, the shelves stacked with boxes and cans.
“It’s food!” Dorian said excitedly as his eyes scanned the boxes. He looked at me, as if actually asking for permission, but Owen didn’t. He broke open a package and dug in.
“I don’t see how they can eat.” Blossom sidled up next to me, the ground and building trembling around us.
I looked up at her, and our eyes locked for a brief moment before we swallowed each other into hugs.
“I’m so glad you’re okay,” she said, her voice watery and choked.
“You, too.” I squeezed her tighter.
Sheree came over and joined our group hug. “We were so worried. All of the Amadis thought we’d lost you. Solomon had to send word to make sure nobody showed signs of mourning. We just had to hope you were okay.”
The building above us shook again, and chalky dust rained down. We pulled apart, and I went to join Tristan, taking a seat next to him on the floor. He ate pudding out of a plastic cup with his fingers. He held a dark brown glob out to me, but I shook my head. The chocolate tempted me, but I couldn’t bring myself to suck on his fingers with everyone else around.
“These aren’t biscuits, they’re cookies!” Dorian said when he opened a package and looked inside. He stuffed at least three in his mouth at once before holding the bag out to me. I did take a couple of those, nibbling on the crumbly goodness, too afraid to devour them—my stomach growled and clenched at the same time.
“Please tell me these bombs aren’t meant for us,” I said to nobody in particular.
“It’s Normans against Normans,” Solomon said. “It’s been going on since we’ve been here. An hour or two of air raids, then twelve or so of peace before they begin again.”
“Who’s doing them?” Tristan asked.
“Everyone. I’ve spotted planes from France, Germany, Italy, Iraq, China, and Japan.”
“Geez,” I muttered. “World War III really has started, hasn’t it?”
“We haven’t seen or heard anything from the U.S. or about it,” Blossom said. “Information only travels by word of mouth anymore, and nobody here seems to care about the Americans. I’m hoping we can go there next, and it’s not so bad. I mean, who would bomb the U.S., right?”
“The Daemoni,” Solomon said.
“Yep,” Vanessa agreed. “It’s the Daemoni making all of this happen. The U.S. won’t be safe for long.”
“We need to find where Lucas has the Summoned, and that’s where we’re going, regardless,” I said.
We caught each other up on everything we’d been through and learned while we’d been separated. Solomon had been able to reach a few other council members before the networks started failing. No region was doing great, but they managed to hold themselves together, at least as of two days ago. Conversions had increased, but not nearly at the accelerated rate the Daemoni turned Normans. Eventually they’d have to stop, though, or they’d extinguish their own food source, especially with all the Normans dying by their hands, at war, or by the not-so-natural disasters.
The group had gone to Prague from Moscow, but couldn’t reach Solomon’s contacts before war broke out there. Then they went on to Cologne and stayed there for a few days, hoping we’d show up.
“I have not been able to reach anyone else, but we learned a lot of chatter from the Daemoni channels regarding London and the rest of England,” Solomon finished. “We thought this would be the best place to start the search for the Summoned. I’d about given up that you would ever see my message to come here, and we’d left the safe house just tonight.”
“Did we have people there?” I asked.
Charlotte shook her head. “No. They evacuated those in need of protection to outside the city when the bombs started dropping. The rest scattered to help the Normans, and hopefully gather some of the newly turned.”
I nodded and swallowed. I didn’t know if I could handle a pile of Amadis deaths on top of the Norman ones I’d already dealt with in the last twenty-four hours. Tristan sat with his back against the wall, one knee bent up with an arm rested on it, and the other knee pulled in on the floor. I scooted closer to him, leaned my head back against his shoulder, and closed my eyes. Dorian sat on the other side of me and lay against me, so I draped an arm over his shoulder and across his chest.
Life sucked. War sucked. No doubt about it. But for the moment, I could be thankful to at least have my two men and my closest friends still alive and back by my side.
My people, however, were another story. And so were the Normans.
We couldn’t rest here for long.
As soon as the building stopped shaking for more than thirty minutes since the last blast, we crept our way upstairs. Unable to see through the stained glass windows, Tristan and I went over to the doors, and he opened one just enough to peek through.
The street was deserted, covered in dust and ash and littered with big chunks of concrete, pieces of roofing, and shards of glass. At least, the street appeared to be empty of life, but Tristan and I looked at each other, both of us hearing the beating heart about twenty-five yards away. A whimp
er followed.
“We have to help them,” I said.
He nodded, and we ran out without telling the others, knowing half of them would follow. Vanessa and Jax did anyway. We found a middle-aged woman more than half-buried in the rubble, so we hadn’t been able to see her from the church.
She looked at us, her eyes grew wide, and she screamed.
“Shh, no,” I said. “We’re here to help.”
I moved closer, and she yelled louder. She tried to wriggle away, but a large beam pinned her leg to the asphalt. I wasn’t sure if she screamed even louder from the pain or the fear shining in her blue eyes as she stared at Vanessa and me making our way down to her because the guys were too big to fit in the small crevices.
“Shut. Up!” Vanessa said, but the woman ignored her.
“We’re trying to help you out of here,” I said, “but please stop. You’re going to draw attention.”
“HELP ME! THEY’RE OVER HERE!” She screamed, and then she glared at us with wild animal-like eyes. “You’re them. I know it. You’re not touching me, you evil, horrible whores!”
Vanessa growled while at the same time lifting the beam off of the woman. I grabbed her under the pits and pulled her away, then slid one arm under her neck and the other under her legs and picked her up.
“Stop!” a man yelled the moment I crested the pile she’d been buried under.
“You stop.” Tristan held his hand up, palm out. The man couldn’t move, and by the look he gave the woman, I thought he must be her husband.
“We’re helping her,” I said as I carried her over to him.
His eyes grew as wild as hers when I approached. “No! I … I know who you are. Put my wife down!”
I bent over and laid her on the ground. When I came up, I stared down the barrels of several guns trained on me. Soldiers had come from nowhere—well, probably from the compound down the road, but we hadn’t noticed their arrival. My damn mind was on the fritz again.
I held my hands up in the international signal of surrender, but yelled at them. “We’re only trying to help, you idiots! That’s what we do. We protect you from the true evil ones. We just saved her life!”
“Or infected her,” her husband spat, still not helping the woman in front of his feet. He didn’t even bend over or look at her to inspect her injuries. He feared that he’d catch what we supposedly had.
“She has a broken leg and probably internal injuries,” Tristan said. “Get her some help, for God’s sake.”
He lifted his chin infinitesimally, signaling Vanessa, Jax, and me, and we all blurred away before something stupid happened. Something stupid happened anyway. The soldiers fired their mother-effin’, god-forsaken guns at us. I was so tired of being shot at. And although I should have been immune to it by now, every time, my mother’s bleeding body came into view. Every time, I watched her die again and again and again. It was all I could do to not turn and shoot a few electric bolts at them.
They’re just Normans. They don’t know what they’re doing.
I wasn’t so sure about that last part—they didn’t have that glazed-over look in their eyes. They didn’t appear to be under control of some third entity. But I kept telling myself that anyway before I did something just as stupid as them.
We slammed the church door shut behind us, and I stomped down the center aisle, glaring at the angel statues in the corners and the image of Jesus on the cross depicted in stained glass straight in front of me, behind the altar.
“Why?” I demanded. “Why can’t we just do what we’re supposed to do? Why are You making this so hard?”
No answer came. Not that I expected one. I was beginning to feel like we were completely on our own down here.
“Alexis,” Tristan murmured as he laid a strong, warm hand on my shoulder.
“I don’t want to hear everything happens for a reason,” I snapped, shrugging him off. “We’re here for a reason. We supposedly have this purpose we’re supposed to serve. But every time we turn around, we’re being shot down. Literally. I’m so damn tired of being shot at!”
I strode out of the sanctuary, into a small room to the side. I didn’t know anything about Catholic churches, or churches in general. Mom taught me the Bible herself, and not just because we moved around a lot. She hadn’t said so then, but I was pretty sure now she hadn’t wanted my education—my training—to be tainted by human interpretation. Because humans were pretty fucking stupid sometimes.
So I sat in the middle of three short pews in whatever kind of room this was supposed to be. A table full of unlit candles stood in front of the first pew. Another image of Christ hung on the wall, this one three-dimensional. I dropped my head into my hands, covering my face, not wanting to see Him or Him to see me.
“Lex.”
I jumped at the voice, thinking it belonged to Jesus at first. Sheesh. I peeked through my fingers at Tristan in the doorway.
“I need some time alone,” I said. “Before I lose my sh …” I couldn’t bring myself to say it out loud in a church, especially with Him still staring down at me. “My mind. We have no place to go from here. Every time we step outside, we’re shot at. The Normans don’t want our help. They only want to kill us. We have nowhere to go and no way to get there even if we did.”
“Answers will come,” he promised.
“Oh, I’m sure you’ll figure out something brilliant, but for now, I need to be alone.” I flicked my finger and shut the door. And immediately felt guilty for it, so I didn’t get mad when he stopped it from closing all the way and came inside. He sat down next to me, wrapped his arms around me, and pressed his lips to my temple.
“I’ll give you your space, but first I have to tell you how much I love you.” He rose, strode out of the room, and shut the door behind him.
“I love you, too,” I said through my tears, knowing he could still hear me.
I cried into my hands. I felt so lost. So abandoned. I pulled my hands away from my face and dug my fingers into my palm, trying to find a way into my book. Maybe the Angels had a message in there for me. They had to have a message for me! We were stuck, with no idea where to go.
“Have you abandoned us?” I cried out to my ancestors and the Angels when the book didn’t appear in my palm. “Have you given up? Because I don’t blame you if you did. I’ve screwed up more times than I know. I’ve been nothing but a disappointment, I’m well aware.” I changed my thoughts to God himself. “Your will is the way, and if Your will is to leave us be because we don’t deserve You anymore, I get it. I really do. I don’t think we deserve You either.”
I didn’t really know what else to say. If we’d been left here on Earth completely on our own, it’s not like I could demand a signal to know this. If they were gone, they were gone. They wouldn’t have been listening to me anyway.
I dropped my hands from my face and looked up at Jesus hanging on the wall. And anger began to build in my chest. “Except that You promised, you know. You promised to never abandon us—well, to never abandon Your children. Maybe I don’t deserve Your mercy, but what about all the Normans out there? They can be ignorant, yes, but that doesn’t mean they deserve to be abandoned. They’re not all bad, are they? I can’t believe that.”
I gripped the pew in front of me, leaned my forehead against it, and stared at my boots that were no longer black, but gray, covered in dust. My breath sighed out of me. I kept trying to help and save everyone, and instead, I only brought death. Maybe this lack of support was not an abandonment of the Amadis or the Normans, but only of me. Maybe that was my message, the same one I’d been saying all along, coming loud and clear now from Heaven above: I wasn’t meant for this.
“Alexis.”
The female voice in the room made me jump.
“Darling.”
I gasped at this familiar one.
“Alexis Katerina, look up.”
Only one person called me that, usually when she was angry. Now she said it with love, and tears filled my
eyes as I rolled my head back and dared to look up.
And my mouth gaped open.
Chapter 15
I couldn’t breathe. I definitely couldn’t say anything. I could only stare with my mouth hanging wide open.
Three figures stood between me and the table of candles, blocking out the Jesus on the wall. Three women, all dark-haired with a tint of red, all dark-eyed with similarly shaped faces. All wearing white dresses that looked quite a bit like my wedding dress, only made of some Otherworldly material that looked like soft leather and no fancy gems decorated the collar, giving them an overall fiercer appearance. And all with white, feathery wings tucked closely behind them. Huge wings, with their apexes reaching several inches above the women’s heads and their tips draping on the floor by their feet.
I plastered myself against the back of the pew as I drank in the sight.
“Mom? Rina?” I eyed the other one. I’d known her voice from hearing it in my head several times before. My heart shook in my chest. “Cassandra?”
They all smiled at me.
“You’re really here?” I asked in disbelief. Their grins only grew. I peeled myself away from the back of the pew and leaned forward. I reached out to touch Mom’s hand. “Oh my God!”
“Alexis,” she warned, and my eyes darted to the wall behind her, although I couldn’t see Jesus anymore.
“Sorry,” I murmured. “I just … I can’t … MOM!”
I sprang from the pew, somehow hurdled over the front one, and threw myself at her. She caught me in her arms. Her familiar scent enveloped me, confirming further she really stood here, although it was mixed with an unusual freshness, like how the Sacred Archives smelled. Then I turned to Rina and hugged her, too. I stood awkwardly in front of Cassandra, but she pulled me into her arms for an embrace.
“You’re Angels?” I demanded, reaching out to touch the top of Mom’s wing. It moved when I did, and I jerked my hand back. Mom laughed. I wanted to cry. I thought I’d never hear her laugh or feel her hugs again.
“We’ve been promoted, in a way,” she said.
“Heaven needs all the help available in these times,” Cassandra added.
Torment (Soul Savers Book 6) Page 18