Rebellion

followed, but chose to go around the bar.

The faint niggling headache she’d had since getting out of the van was getting worse. It was a chilly pressure on the inside of her skull; it crept into the top of her neck and rolled around in her head and showed no sign of abating. And then there was the faint, but insistent, prickling of her palms. There was pain here. A lot of pain.

As she followed Vin through the door to the back of the bar, Alice found herself hoping they had a fire extinguisher somewhere.

THEY FOUND MALLORY in the back, surrounded by barrels and standing in a puddle on the uneven flagstones. Judging by the smell, the puddle was largely beer. It foamed slightly at the edges. Alice ducked through the low doorway after Vin, stopped and rolled her eyes. “Is now really the time?”

Mallory cut her off with a hiss, waving his gun. They stood like statues, listening. Waiting.

Nothing.

And then Mallory pointed to his ear. “Hear it?” he whispered.

And Alice did. At first, there was nothing other than the thick, silky silence. Not counting the overwhelming urge to set fire to... everything. But she listened, and she saw something like recognition flicker across Vin’s face, and finally, she heard it too.

A low, steady buzz, like flies trapped in a bottle.

“What is that?”

“Something happened here,” Mallory was stock-still in the middle of the room. “Something bad.”

“No shit,” muttered Vin. He was watching Mallory, waiting for a word or a sign, but still Mallory did nothing.

The buzzing sound grew louder and louder until there was no mistaking it and no ignoring it. It was everywhere.

She had no idea how long they had been standing there when they first heard the footsteps. Mallory held a finger to his lips and closed his eyes, trying to work out where they were coming from.

They were slow and light. Too light to be either Castor or Pollux, and unlikely to be Xaphan or Florence. “Not angel,” Vin whispered across to her, shaking his head. “Not Fallen, either.”

“Human?” she whispered back.

“I sure hope so...”

She was about to ask what the alternative might be, when Mallory suddenly spun around and darted out of the room. With barely a second thought, both Alice and Vin took off after him, back through the main bar and out into the street. Mallory had gone through the front door so fast that he had nearly torn it from its hinges; it swung furiously back and forth. All the while, Alice wondered how exactly her life had got so ridiculous. And then she was in the street, and Mallory and Vin had stopped dead in their tracks.

Alice stopped too.

WALKING AWAY FROM them, down the middle of the street, was a woman. She was wearing a plain, grey dress which did nothing to hide how thin she was, and she had bare feet. Long dark hair, streaked with grey, fell loosely to her waist. Her walk was uneven, as though each step caused her pain. No wonder, thought Alice, with her bare feet. She must have heard them rush out of the bar, but she gave no sign of it. She just kept walking.

Alice saw the others exchange looks, and in silence they followed.

The woman walked down the centre of the road, straight as an arrow, and it was only then that Alice noticed there were no cars. There weren’t even any pedestrians. Other than themselves and the woman, there didn’t seem to be another living soul here. Which seemed odd, given that right across the bay was one of the most obvious tourist destinations for miles around (something she still couldn’t quite process, if she was entirely honest). It was – just about – early summer. There should be tourists. There should be... people.

Instead, there was only the stillness and that infuriating buzz and a lone woman walking towards the sea.

Something bad, Mallory had said.

The road took them through the middle of the little town, past deserted junctions and restaurants as the streetlamps flickered on, past traffic lights which phased through their colours for an empty street; past alleys and cafes and houses... and not a soul in sight.

Except.

The first time she saw it, Alice thought it was a trick of the light. A shadow. The wind moving a cafe awning. A sheet of newspaper blowing across the road.

And then she saw it again.

At the end of every street they crossed, there was movement. It was small, and whenever she looked, there was nothing to see. Just more of the same empty streets. She thought about calling out to Mallory or Vin, but instead, she simply stopped and folded her arms and stared up the street crossing her own. And she waited.

One moment, he wasn’t there... and the next, he was, looking back at her through the dusk. She could see his armour catching the glow from a nearby streetlight; see the shadow of his wings.

The streetlight behind her suddenly flared, the bulb blowing in a shower of sparks and startling her, and when she looked back towards the end of the street, the angel had vanished.

Mallory and Vin, oblivious to the fact they were being watched, had stayed with the woman. They had reached the far end of the street, where the road ended abruptly in an area of sandy scrub, separated from the beach by a rough, low wall. Alice could just make out the woman’s outline on top of the wall. She was heading for the sea.

Fire flared up in Alice’s footsteps as she broke into a run. Sparks fell from the ends of her hair, from the tips of her fingers as flames shimmered up and down her arms. The soles of her trainers made a slapping sound as she ran; every breath caught in her throat, burning as it came. She blazed past Vin, past Mallory, and leapt the wall, not knowing or caring how far the drop down to the beach might be on the other side...

The woman was sitting on a rickety bench. Once, it had been painted green, but the paint had flaked from the half-rotten wood, and little more than rust held it together. Her head was turned towards the island. Alice picked her way over the sand and the rough shingle, through pockets of seaweed and mounds of old shells.

“We knew about the angels, of course.” Her voice was quiet, soft, and she spoke in English. Alice froze on the spot. “We thought of them as our guardians. It was a joke, you would say. Local legend. The island of the angels. We thought they would protect us. Protect us from them.” She looked at Alice. Her eyes were the palest shade of grey. “We trusted them. We were mistaken.

“They came in the night. Twenty of them; maybe more. They ran through the streets and howled like animals until the whole village was awake. And then they began. They came to our doors and they threw them open, and they dragged the children from their beds. Such strength. Such rage.” She blinked, and played with the fabric of her dress. “The school. They took them to the school, and...” She stopped, and held her hands out in front of her, turning them over and staring first at the palms, then at the backs, flexing her fingers as though she didn’t quite believe that they were a part of her. “We had no choice. You must understand. No choice. Even then, we thought the angels would come; that they would save... Even as they closed the doors...” She dropped her hands again and smoothed down the fabric of her dress. “They watched. They stood on their walls and they watched. They saw, and they did nothing. Nothing.”

“What happened here?” Alice could barely bring herself to ask.

“The school. The school.” A single tear ran down the woman’s cheek. “And then, after.... Then the angels came. The Archangel, he came and he made them forget. All of them. All of them but me.” She stood, slowly, unsteady on her feet, and Alice wondered whether she should help her, but then she had found her balance and she drew herself upright and sighed. “They sit inside and they wait to die alone. They have nothing left: not even their memories. And I? I have too many.” She reached out, and brushed her fingers down Alice’s cheek. “Beware the angels, child, and think: what will you do when they come for you?”

“They already did.” Alice heard the words as though they were someone else’s. The woman looked at her sadly and shook her head.