Angel Fever

His cellphone went off, giving him an excuse to turn away from Gallad without responding. Bascal. About time. He spoke tersely: “What happened?”

“They’re all dead,” said Bascal with satisfaction. “And, boss, you should have seen it! What a fight – we lost over a hundred, but it was worth it. Those AKs never even had a chance.”

Raziel waited, but Bascal didn’t continue. The dolt. Through gritted teeth, he said, “What about Fields and Kylar?” Beside him, he saw Gallad’s eyebrows fly up.

“I said all, didn’t I?” protested Bascal’s voice. “Everyone in the place is gone now, I guarantee it.”

“You saw the bodies?”

“Well, not personally – but when I left, no one was alive. We took care of that, you bet.”

Foreboding pulsed through Raziel, as well as fury with himself. How could he have been so idiotic as to leave this to Bascal? “You will go back and check again,” he ordered. “If you don’t have a body, you have nothing, do you hear me?”

“We already did check again. We did it days ago, only there’s not much to see – we burned the place out.”

“Days ago?” Raziel hissed. “This happened days ago, and you’re only just now telling me? What have you been doing ever since – carousing with A1s in some penthouse somewhere?”

Bascal’s sullen silence told him that he wasn’t far off. “Well, we had a right to celebrate, didn’t we?” he said finally. “This was a dangerous assignment. Lots of us died. And that reminds me, speaking of A1s—”

“Don’t. Even. Say it,” cautioned Raziel. “You will lose everything you already have if you don’t do exactly what I tell you – and so will your friends, and they’ll know you’re the reason why. Do you understand?”

There was a long pause. “Yes, I understand,” Bascal muttered at last.

“Go to Schenectady Eden at once. Take your army with you. We’ve got another battle ahead – but before that, I’ll be debriefing everyone personally, to find out exactly which AKs died and which did not. I’ll be there by the tenth. Do not delay.”

When he hung up, Gallad was staring silently. The grey, ancient form of the Pyramid of the Moon rose up in the distance behind him. “Are you going to explain what that was about?” he asked.

“This…thing is happening in Pawntucket as well,” admitted Raziel tensely. “Much stronger than we’re seeing here. The only possible connection seems to be Willow Fields. Bascal thinks she’s dead, but she may have escaped.”

For the first time, real fear showed in Gallad’s eyes. “Fields…the one who can destroy us all,” he murmured.

“No, she will not,” retorted Raziel icily. “I’m leaving soon for Schenectady; it’s the nearest Eden to Pawntucket. When I do, I want you to destroy every human here, and then lead the angels to join me.”

Gallad’s jaw dropped. “Destroy—”

“Yes,” barked Raziel, spinning towards him with tight fists. “We don’t know what’s going on, and we can’t take chances. Destroy them! If you’re right and it’s spreading, we must contain it – otherwise we could all die!”

Gallad looked pale; Raziel could almost hear him thinking that over seventy thousand people lived in Teotihuacan Eden, with another twenty thousand in nearby refugee camps. Below, bright human auras went about their business – shopping, strolling down the long stone roads.

“I’ll see to it,” Gallad said finally. “But as for getting all the angels to Schenectady too—”

“Oh, they’ll come,” said Raziel. “Tell them we’ve found the cause: it’s the fault of Willow Fields. We are now at war. Pawntucket is our first step towards obliterating her.”

And as Raziel shifted to his angel form and flew away, he knew, ironically, that he’d found the one thing that could unite the angels under his leadership: his daughter.

23

“IT’S THE MOST DIRECT WAY.” Seb traced his finger along the map.

“I know, but I’m kind of nervous about Iowa,” I admitted. It was the middle of the night, with the world dark and still around us. We’d stopped for gas at an abandoned Exxon station near the eastern South Dakota border, and now we were leaning against the truck, poring over the atlas.

Seb looked up, his hazel eyes catching the glow of my angel as she hovered to give us light. “Nervous?” he repeated.

“It’s pretty populated,” I explained. “All the states are now between here and New York. The chance of getting spotted by Eden staff will be a lot more likely from this point on.”

I could hear the faint scrape of Seb’s stubble as he rubbed his chin. “Maybe we should go up through Minnesota and into Canada instead.” He turned to flatten the map against the hood. “We could cross the border right here – see? And then go north and then east again.”

“Yeah, I was wondering about Canada, but we’d be cutting things pretty close. Plus the snow will be worse there.” I stared down at the map with its different options. My stomach clenched when I imagined getting to Pawntucket too late to stop whatever Raziel was planning.

“Let’s try Iowa,” I said finally. “Do you have any feelings about it?” I wasn’t getting anything; I was far too emotionally entangled.

Seb gave a not really grimace. “Both ways feel dangerous.”

We looked at each other. Finally I shrugged, trying to hide my apprehension. “Well, if they’re both dangerous…then let’s at least take the fastest one, right?”

As the sun rose, at first there was little difference between Iowa and South Dakota: flat, frosty plains with occasional clusters of trees. As we drove, my thoughts kept turning uneasily to that moment of longing I’d felt towards Seb, and the fact that it was preying on my mind irritated me – it wasn’t as if I didn’t have enough to worry about already.

At least things were relatively back to normal between us – the morning after we’d shared the sleeping bag, we’d slipped back into banter, and last night it had been warm enough to keep to our own seats. Now, as we travelled across Iowa, we played “the minister’s cat” again, though it kind of disintegrated when Seb started throwing in Spanish words and insisting they counted. Twenty questions was a failure too, when we each realized we were trying to psychically probe the other.

The whole time we were joking around, it felt as if we were waiting for something to happen.

After a few hours, we started seeing people again – groups of trudging refugees, burdened with belongings. One little girl staggered along with a cat carrier, her arms rigid under its weight. My eyes lingered on her. I longed to tell them all to pile in – but I could do nothing. Nothing.

No. I am doing something, I reminded myself. I’m going to get rid of Raziel.

Seb’s glance held understanding. He started to say something…and then we both stiffened. Angelic energy – a lot of it and close by. Suddenly my palms were damp.

“We must be getting near an Eden,” I said.

Seb already had the map open. “Mason City, maybe – it must be a new one.” He flipped to the next page. “I’ll find another way, so we can get off this road quickly.”

I nodded tensely, scanning for angels as I drove. To one side we were hugging a rocky hill; there was a drop to the other. I rounded a bend – and slammed on the brakes, bringing us skidding to a stop.

There was a rockslide across a curve in the road. I stared in dismay. There was no way we could drive across: we’d have to take our chances off-road on the slope, or else get out and start moving stones.

Then I saw something else, just past the slope: the Eden wasn’t even half a mile away, with its stark barbed-wire fence and dozens of angels circling overhead.

Seb and I exchanged a taut glance. As we got out of the truck, I was very aware of the pistol in the pocket