Angel Fever

last few days, all I can think is…”

“What?” he asked softly, his hand still reaching towards her.

She started to say something, then shook her head. “No. I’m not going to do this. I’d only say things I’d regret.”

She left the lunchroom. Alex started to go after her; some instinct warned him to leave her alone. He sank back down, resting his forehead on his fists.

Once he’d started noticing how much Willow had changed, he hadn’t been able to stop. She seemed to get headaches now; several times tonight he’d seen her massaging her head. And her eyes looked so sad – and he didn’t think it was just because things were so tense right now. No, her eyes had the look of someone who hadn’t really smiled in over a year.

What have I done to her? he thought.

“Hey.” Scott Mason in his letterman’s jacket, swinging himself into the chair opposite. He dug into a bowl of stew with a spoon. “So how does all this compare with the old days of the AKs? What was it like when—”

Alex got up and left. Ignoring everyone he passed, he pushed open the school’s front door and started walking, following the sound of hammers. Within ten minutes, he was up on a roof in the torchlit town square; it was a relief to be working instead of thinking.

He glanced up as someone else appeared: Seb, his expression stormy. Without speaking, he started hammering too.

When there was a pause, Alex glanced over. “You know, it’s not Rachel’s fault she looks like Meghan. So stop taking it out on her.”

Seb lined another dowel into place. “Why should I care who she looks like?”

“Just knock off the bad mood around her. And I thought I told you to get some sleep.”

Seb hammered without answering, slamming the nail in as if he hated it. Alex didn’t push the point. He and Seb kept working, moving across the roof; when they finished that building, they moved on to the next.

Finally Alex felt a hand on his arm. A guy named Mark, raising his voice over the sound of tools. “You two haven’t had a break yet. You said no excuses, remember?”

Alex scraped a tired hand over his eyes. It had to be almost three in the morning. “Yeah,” he said at last. He glanced at Seb. “Same for you.”

Seb looked as if he was going to protest but didn’t. They left in silence.

The sound of activity faded as their footsteps echoed down the street. A question was pounding through Alex’s brain. He didn’t want to ask it, but he had to. He jammed his hands in his jacket pockets.

“Look, I’ve got to know – what was it like for Willow?” He glanced over at Seb. “After I left. Was it as bad as I think?”

Seb’s face in the moonlight was still dark with his own problems. Finally he sighed. “Worse,” he said.

Alex swallowed. “Were you…able to do anything for her?” There’d been times when he’d resented Seb and Willow’s closeness; now he hoped fervently that they’d become closer than ever.

Seb shook his head. “She wouldn’t let anyone near. She did her work; said what she was supposed to say. But she was just…a zombie.”

Alex’s throat tightened as he pictured it. I’ll make it up to you, he’d told her. It may have been the stupidest thing he’d ever said. He could never make it up to her, not if he spent his whole life trying.

“Then during the attack…” Seb looked down at his feet as they walked. “I think she really wanted to die. I almost couldn’t get her out.”

Alex stared; his steps stilled. “What attack?”

Seb stopped with a quick, surprised glance. He closed his eyes. “Oh, dios mio, she hasn’t told you.”

Alex grabbed his arm. “Told me what? What’s happened at the base?”

Seb’s eyes were reluctant. “There was an angel attack about two weeks ago,” he said at last. “Almost everyone was killed.”

Alex stood stunned as Seb told him the details: how the angels had struck with no warning during a training session; how Sam had died and Willow had tried to run into the final fray.

“I had to fight with her to get her out,” Seb finished. “She was kicking, struggling – she wanted to die with them. No, she just…wanted to die.”

Alex had one hand over his eyes, pummelled by every word. “I should have been there,” he said roughly.

He sensed rather than saw Seb’s shrug. “There was nothing you could have done.”

“I should have been there anyway – they were my team,” Alex snapped. He dropped his hand…but couldn’t force away the image of Willow standing over Sam’s body, crying and shooting at the angels. Or of the others, almost all dead.

The world was icy and silent – the sky overhead brilliant with stars. “They were my team,” Alex repeated finally. The words tasted like dust.

32

“AND THEN WHAT HAPPENED?” RAZIEL asked, his tone conversational. He stood propped against the desk in the Schenectady Church of Angels office, idly cleaning his fingernails with a letter opener. “Do not lie to me again, Zaran.”

The dark-haired angel sat clutching his temples, visibly trembling. He’d been sitting there for over two days – since just after Raziel had arrived, in fact. All that time without feeding, for to shift into his angel form would make him vulnerable.

He wasn’t handling it very well.

“I’m not lying,” he gasped. “Nothing happened. I flew down the corridor, and no one was there, so I flew back to tell the others.”

“Mmm, yes, so you keep saying.” Raziel motioned to Bascal, who stood waiting by the door with two other goons. “You know, I’m feeling rather peckish,” he confided. “What about you?”

“Sure am,” said Bascal with a leer. “Want me to call for a couple of A1s?”

“Delightful.” Raziel noted with satisfaction how pale Zaran had become at the mention of food – angels, unlike humans, could not go for very long without partaking of sustenance. Zaran’s aura had been shuddering for hours, its edges a vivid, painful blue.

Raziel straightened up and stretched as Bascal headed out. “You know, it is funny how all roads keep leading back to you,” he said. “Willow Fields did not die; I’d stake my own life on it. And the entrances she was nearest to could only be reached by the corridor you say you flew down. So where did she go?”

“I don’t know – I told you!”

Idly, Raziel picked up the small photo Bascal had given him. “Such a pretty girl,” he mused. “You must have thought it a shame that she had to die.”

“I didn’t think—” Zaran broke off. Raziel raised an eyebrow and smiled.

Low murmurs came from the outer room as Bascal returned. He’d left the office door slightly ajar behind him; through it they could see a starry-eyed pair of humans – and then silence came as Bascal fed. His halo pulsed brightly through the crack in the door.

Raziel had enacted this little performance several times already with Zaran; this time it could truly be called a success. The high-cheekboned angel sat staring as Bascal fed, his aura shaking with weakness and fatigue. “I – no, I didn’t—”

“Didn’t what?” Raziel asked gently.

“Didn’t think of her! I didn’t—” With a moan, Zaran buried his face in his hands. “All right,” he whispered raggedly. “I saw them – saw them both. Her and the other half-angel.”

“And you let them go,” hissed Raziel.