Angel Fever

passenger door, gazing to the south-east. “Angels,” he said.

When I sensed what he was picking up my breath caught. Angels – thousands of them – about thirty miles away. They were gathering, waiting; so many we could feel it even from this distance.

I glanced at Seb. “Schenectady’s an Eden now. They must be there.”

He threw himself into the truck. “Come – we’d better hurry.”

The familiar road was way worse than I remembered, but I went as fast as I could around potholes. Then as the first houses began to appear, I saw that things weren’t so normal in Pawntucket after all. A huge oak tree lay completely uprooted, and houses stood at weird slants, roofs and porches buckling.

Earthquake damage. I hadn’t realized until now that Pawntucket had had any tremors. I licked my lips, suddenly more apprehensive than ever. “Maybe we should stop and let our angels check things out,” I said.

“Yes, good,” Seb said shortly – and I knew that no matter how angry he still was, he would die to protect me, as I would do for him. I pulled off the road, and a heartbeat later our angels were flying over Pawntucket.

In the air I stared down in dismay. Some buildings looked almost normal; others leaned in all directions – walls crushed, front porches falling off. A Victorian house I’d always liked looked as if a giant’s fist had smashed down on it. One whole street had been razed to rubble; more trees lay on their sides, roots exposed.

Everything was so quiet. Where were the people? Gliding in the cold air, I turned on one wing and headed towards the centre of town with Seb beside me. From the old-fashioned town square, I saw the brick tower of the town hall. At least it looked intact.

Then as we flew over the square, figures appeared out of nowhere; they ran across the street and darted out of view. I stared after them. Wait, I knew them – knew all of them.

The bells of the town hall started pealing. “Attack!” shouted a voice.

But they shouldn’t be able to see us! I thought – and then bullets were slicing past. I jerked backwards, wings flapping; Seb darted in front of me. Seb, no! I thought at him.

“They don’t have halos!” someone cried in frustration.

“Don’t let them get away!” yelled someone else.

Gunfire rained around us. Seb and I went high and started flying quickly back to the truck. The human Seb and I were already hurtling towards the centre of town, as fast as I could drive over the damaged streets. Come on, come on, I thought fervently as our angels sped towards us.

More people had appeared with guns, and another bullet whined past as we flew. Our angels reached the truck, diving straight through the windshield into our human forms.

“Maybe we should go the other way now,” Seb said dryly, eyeing the approaching mob.

I stopped the truck with a lurch. “No!” I gasped. “I know them – and they’re fighting the angels, so they’re on our side.” I scrambled out before Seb could respond; I heard him swear.

“Stop! Stop!” I cried as a dozen people thundered towards us. “It’s me – Willow!”

Scott Mason, former football star of Pawntucket High, was at the front of the pack. He jogged to a halt, holding a rifle. His once-broad form was leaner now, his brown hair longer.

“Willow?” he repeated, his voice rising in disbelief.

The group gaped at us. Seb had gotten out too and was holding one of the machine guns, his mouth grim – and I knew he didn’t trust my former classmates not to attack again.

Because everyone who’d come after us was someone I’d gone to Pawntucket High with. Scott, still wearing his purple and white letterman jacket. A girl with long auburn hair named Rachel – we’d taken freshman biology together. No sign of Nina, though.

Scott had raised his rifle against his shoulder, pointing it at us. “If you’re really Willow, what the hell was up with those angels?” he snapped.

I swallowed. “They’re – they’re part of us. We’re both half-angel.”

Someone at the rear had peeled off and was heading at a run back towards town. I watched nervously, wondering if she was going for reinforcements.

Scott snorted. “Yeah, you’re supposedly half-angel – who are you really?”

I stared at him. “What? Come on, Scott, don’t you recognize me?”

“Those angels flew right inside you!” he barked. “The Willow we knew is on our side – I’m not taking any chances.” Scott had always been expert with a football; he didn’t look any less so with a rifle as he stepped closer.

“Stay. Back.” Seb’s voice was a razor blade. “My angel can survive without me. If you shoot, he will grab the machine gun and fire on you all.”

The bluff worked. Scott lowered his rifle a fraction, his handsome face cautious.

“But I am on your side!” I cried. “I’ve been fighting the angels for years – we both have.”

“Yeah, that’s exactly what you would say, isn’t it?” he demanded.

“But the half-angel thing can’t be true, can it?” protested Rachel, stepping closer. “I thought it was just a story!”

How had they already known I was half-angel? Before I could respond, a dark-haired guy said, “Either way, that doesn’t mean this is her! After two years? And now, after this morning?”

“Way too convenient,” put in someone else.

“Of course it’s really me!” I exclaimed. “Rachel – remember how crazy we made Mr. Kovak in biology? We refused to dissect frogs, remember? And, Scott, you flunked sophomore English – Coach Campbell was furious at you.”

“Angels are psychic,” muttered someone darkly.

“I’m psychic, remember?” But it was clear that nothing I said or did would convince them. “We’re here to help! ”I said anyway, raising my voice. “Pawntucket’s about to come under attack —”

“Attack?” Scott hissed. “You’ve led them right to us, haven’t you?”

“No! You’ve got to listen—”

Scott snapped the rifle to his shoulder again; with no hesitation, Seb let loose a burst of machine-gun fire, scattering it at his feet. As Scott jumped back, I stood breathing hard, my mind spinning. This could not be happening.

“Stop!” shouted a new voice. Running footsteps were heading towards us. “Stop! ”

A guy wearing an old duffle coat and a grey thermal cap came sprinting up, with the girl who’d taken off before and someone else a few paces behind. Panting, the guy glanced at me and then the crowd, his expression incredulous. “What are you doing? This is Willow!”

“You don’t know what happened!” Scott said hotly. “She—”

“Yeah, Leslie told us,” broke in the new guy. Average height, a boyish face. “And it’s still Willow! She’s half- angel, remember? I told you that.”

I stared, wondering who this was and how he knew me – and then suddenly the figure who’d been bringing up the rear propelled herself into my arms. “Willow! It’s you; it’s really you—”

Nina. Tears jumped to my eyes. I forgot everything else as I held her tightly, weak with relief that she hadn’t believed the terrorist stories after all.

She pulled back, swiping at her eyes. “Oh, god, I can’t believe you’re here!”

“Me neither,” I said faintly. Nina was an inch taller than me, with golden-brown hair that used to be straightened paper-flat. Now it framed her cute, snub-nosed face in a bob, making her brownish-green eyes look even larger.

Scott still held his rifle half at the ready. “Yeah, but – come on, that’s not how being a half-angel works, is it?” he sputtered. “An angel flying right inside you?”

My neck warmed. I felt so self-conscious, confirming to all my old classmates that I wasn’t completely human. Steadily, I said, “Well, that’s how it works in our case, and we’re the only half-angels that we know about. Our angels are part of us.”