L. Weatherly - Angel Fever

Alex’s voice rose. “There are only five of us! The second we kill one, they’ll all feel it; they’ll know we’re still around! If they wipe us out before we finish them off, then that is it, for ever.” He rapped a fist against his palm, his mind ticking as he considered options, then discarded them.

“We need a bigger team,” he muttered. “A lot bigger. We’ve got to lie low for a while – months, a year even – let Raziel think we died in Mexico City. And then when there are enough angels gathered in one place, we’ll strike – get rid of them all at once.”

“But what about the Edens?” protested Liz. “If we wait too long, he’ll fill the whole world with those places!”

“Let him,” said Alex curtly. “The angels would still be feeding from humans anyway. The important thing is to get rid of them. No mistakes, no screw-ups – just get rid , for good.”

The others exchanged glances…and Alex knew he’d convinced them. Even Sam. Willow’s eyes were steady on his; he could feel her love for him – her support. He let out a breath, daring to imagine a world without the angels.

“Oh Christ, babe,” he murmured. “I can’t tell you how much I hope you’re right about this.”

“She’s right.” Seb was sitting on the desk, fiddling with a paper clip. He looked up, his gaze on Willow. “I can sense what she’s getting very easily.”

The tips of Willow’s ears reddened, and Alex knew that Seb meant the psychic link he and Willow shared: the only two half-angels in the world.

Willow had told Alex everything that had happened between her and Seb – the way they’d kissed that night in Mexico City. Though Alex hadn’t enjoyed hearing it, he’d known it was his own stupid fault. He and Willow had fought over her friendship with Seb, and he’d been too stubborn to make up with her before the terrorist attack that had separated Willow and Seb from the others. The weird thing was that he couldn’t bring himself to dislike Seb any more. The half-angel was a good guy – his only crime was being in love with Willow.

Liz cleared her throat. “Listen, I think we should…not celebrate, but… Well, I mean, we’re all still alive, and it looks like we might really have a chance again, and…” She tried to smile, her eyes still red. “Besides, I found what has to be the biggest pantry in the universe. The food’s mostly military issue, but there’s a whole mountain of it.”

Alex touched her shoulder. “That’s the best idea I’ve heard all day.”

They sat up planning for hours in the base’s rec room: a too-large space that felt almost cosy with the mood that had gripped them all. Their new knowledge made the air crackle with hope – gave them something to think about instead of all the destruction.

Eventually, though, the long, fraught journey caught up with them. One by one, they dropped off where they sat, until only Alex and Willow were still awake, lying curled up on one of the sofas, holding each other.

“Are you okay?” he asked in an undertone, stroking his thumb across her cheekbone.

She let out a breath. “Kind of numb. But, yeah… You?”

Alex nodded. “Now I am.”

He had no intention – none – of making his strike against the angels until they were ready. Because if he did this right, his plan would work. Then not only would what was left of the world be saved, but he and Willow could have the long life together that they both wanted.

The crystal pendant he’d given her glinted around her neck. He touched it gently, feeling its warmth from her skin. Willow swallowed and reached out to trace his eyebrow with her finger. The motion was full of wonder, as if she were discovering him for the first time.

Nothing will stop us this time, Alex vowed to himself, and to her. We’re going to defeat them.

As he kissed her, he felt something close to joy, despite the shattered world that lay above.

SOMETIMES WHEN I LOOKED BACK on my old life I could hardly believe it.

My old life: that was the one where I lived in Pawntucket, New York (population 19,000), and thought I was just a normal teenage girl. Or at least as normal as someone nicknamed “Queen Weird” could hope to be. I went to Pawntucket High, drove an old Toyota, skipped as many classes as I could get away with. And it never, not even once, occurred to me that I might not be completely human.

In some ways, I hadn’t changed much since then. I still loved tinkering with engines; my favourite colour was still purple. But in other ways, I was a million miles apart from that girl. Once I’d combed vintage clothing stores for the bizarre and wonderful; now I usually just threw on jeans and a T-shirt. They were easy to run in – and with the life we led now, you kind of had to take that into consideration.

I guess the biggest change of all, though – apart from realizing the truth about myself – had to be guns. I’d always hated them. Sometimes boys at my high school would talk about going hunting, and it would make me shudder: the idea of actually stalking a living creature; of aiming at it and pulling a trigger; of seeing it crumple in front of you, so that it ceased to exist any more – I couldn’t understand how anyone, ever, could bring themselves to do it.

That was before I knew we were at war.

I crouched on the ground with the cold weight of a rifle in my hands. I wielded it expertly, aiming and shooting like a machine as explosions seared overhead: white petals that fell, glittering, against the darkness, as angel after angel was killed.

In the unearthly glow, I could see the outline of Salt Lake Eden with its barbed-wire fence. Around me were the shadowy figures of other Angel Killers, the echoes of gunfire, muffled shouts.

“Man, that’s gotta be almost it,” muttered Sam next to me. Another explosion lit his broad face, showing it gleaming with sweat. “It has got to be.”

I started to reply, then broke off at a sudden flash of white. “Sam, look out!” I cried. I flipped onto my side, quickly tracking the angel.

He scowled as he saw it corkscrewing down at us; we both shot at once. A second later, shards of light were drifting on the air. I let out a shaky breath as Sam and I glanced at each other. Just on my own, I’d already shot, what – four, five? That’s got to be way over a hundred by now, I thought feverishly.

The words had barely formed in my mind when a dozens-strong flock soared at us out of nowhere, their pale, glorious figures etched against the stars. My veins chilled. How could they even still be alive now – how ?

I pushed the thought away – not helpful. As the angels plunged into an attacking dive, I squeezed the trigger and shot. Fervent gunfire was going off all around me; I could hear people swearing. Above, three angels burst into nothing, but there were still way too many. We weren’t going to make it this time—

No. We were.

Still shooting, I reached within for my own angel: the shining winged twin with my face. Some distance away I saw that Seb’s angel was already flying, fending off an attacker with quick, strong thrusts of his wings.

In my angel form, I paused only long enough to make myself tangible so I could grab the sensor from my pack; then I was hurtling through the air too. Wings spread, I darted in front of one of the approaching angels, and it veered off wildly; another appeared, and I did the same, swooping back and forth.

“It’s Willow! Get them while she holds them off!”

Even with adrenalin surging through me, I was still amazed at the accuracy of the detail: every angelic feather was outlined in blue-white light; the faces were all individual, all enraged as they screeched at me.