Angel Burn (22 page)

And once she was found by the Church’s devoted followers, she was going to wish with all her heart that her assassin had followed his orders to shoot her.

In the outer office, Jonah sat praying at his desk, giving thanks to the angels for this immense honor they’d bestowed upon him. When he raised his head, his face was radiant; he sat gazing around him, drinking in his surroundings — the tidy desk, the soft, off-white carpet, the small Michelangelo painting of an angel hanging on the wall.

When he compared his life now to how it had been eighteen months ago, he could hardly believe it. He’d been struggling in college, hating his courses, with hardly any friends and a family that had always been remote at best and actively unsupportive at worst. His future had seemed swathed in shades of gray — a career he didn’t want, nothing to look forward to, nothing to really care about. Reading T. S. Eliot in his English class, he’d thought that if he had any courage, he’d just end it all — then at least he could go out with a bang, rather than the whimper of continuing on with his mediocre, pointless life. He used to idly plan how he might do it, knowing that he would never actually have the guts, but it made him feel better. It cheered him up, in a strange way.

And then one day, he saw an angel.

He’d been walking through the campus, glumly worrying about his biology class. He had to do at least one science requirement for his degree, but he had no aptitude for it and was slowly failing, and now it was too late to try to switch to geology or something else that was easier. Jonah had sighed, staring down at his feet as he walked. Maybe it was better if he
did
fail; it wasn’t as if he even wanted the degree, anyway.

A brilliant flash of light had stopped him in his tracks. And, looking up, he had seen an angel flying slowly toward him — a bright, glorious being of such utter radiance, emanating such love and tranquility, that Jonah had simply stood there, frozen with wonder as the angel drew closer.

Do not be afraid,
she had said.
I have something to give you.

White light had burst around Jonah as the angel rested her shining hands on him, and he had felt something flowing into him — a strength, a resolve he’d never had before. The angel’s face was pure beauty, her features peaceful and kind. When she finally flew away, her wings shining in the sun, his world had been changed forever.

He had dropped out of college; he’d never felt such freedom in his life as the day he drove away from campus. He’d gone straight to Denver, where the new Church of Angels cathedral was being built. There he had encountered other angels, just as glorious and shining as the first — and though none of them had ever touched him more than fleetingly, he still basked in the glow of their serenity, their peace. When he realized that angels lived among people in human form, the knowledge had simply confirmed to him that the world was not a gray, sodden place; it was beautiful and shining, full of magic. And somehow he had actually lucked into this job where he served an angel himself.

Jonah sat at his desk, wondering at his good fortune. Shaking his head with a smile, he forced himself to focus: he had work to do. Opening up a new document on his computer, he began to make a list of ideas for the celebration of the Second Wave of angels. Suddenly another thought came to him: perhaps they could get TV and news coverage. Excitement tingled at his scalp. Yes, of course — surely they should let the whole world know about this? His mind buzzing with plans, he quickly got up to ask Raziel about it.

As Jonah started to knock on Raziel’s office door, he stopped, his fist in midair. He could hear the angel’s voice on the phone.

“Yes, Lailah, I know they won’t be feeding the instant they arrive. I’m just saying that we’ll have the cattle all there on display for them  . . .  Yes, that’s right, a big celebration, everyone cheering and happy to see them. It’ll be a nice little welcome, don’t you think? They can see all the blissed-out faces, realize how happy the humans are to be fed off by us. . . .” There was a pause, and Raziel laughed. “Now, now. Don’t be greedy. You know you have to be in your human form for that. . . .”

Jonah backed away from the door slowly, his head spinning in confusion. Angels feeding off humans? The idea was ridiculous — unthinkable. The angels were here to
help
people; he knew that firsthand. They hadn’t only changed his life; they had saved it. Raziel must have been joking. The angel had an acerbic sense of humor sometimes, and Jonah knew that he didn’t always catch the nuances of it.

He had just gotten it wrong. That was all.

Jonah sat down at his desk and gazed at the open document on his screen. Hearing the word
cattle
in his mind again, he somehow didn’t feel quite as enthusiastic about organizing the celebration as he had a few minutes ago, even if Raziel had only been speaking in jest. He saved what he’d done and closed the screen, logging onto his e-mail instead. It was a relief to see that he had several new messages that needed to be taken care of.

He began to type:

I was flying.

Even in my sleep, I smiled to myself. What an amazing feeling, to be so weightless, so free. Spreading my gleaming wings, I hovered above my slumbering body in the motel room. Alex was asleep in the next bed, lying on his stomach. I could see the light of his energy, his tousled dark hair, the tattoo on his bicep as he lay with his head on his wrist. Part of me just wanted to stay there, gazing at him, but I knew that I couldn’t wait — I had something I needed to do. Slowly, moving my wings, I started to lift. Going through the ceiling was like passing through a ripple of water. I passed through the room above, too; it was empty, with unmade beds. Traveling faster now, I soared through the motel roof.

It was midmorning; I burst out into strong sunshine. Spiraling once, I glided downward, feeling the warmth on my wings.

And then I saw him.

There was a man looking in through our motel room window, wearing tan pants and a short-sleeved plaid shirt. He had a camera. He was trying to take photos, but I could feel his frustration — it was too dark in the room. He didn’t know who was in there, and he had to find out; it was urgent. As I watched, he aimed the camera again at the inch or two of open curtain.

In a dizzying rush, I flew back to my body.

I woke up with a jerk under the crisp motel sheets. I was in the room; it felt like morning. Relief swam through me as I exhaled. It was just a dream. I’d been flying, and I’d gone outside  —

I stiffened as I heard a noise: a slight shifting, like someone standing nearby. Slowly, hardly daring to breathe, I rolled my head sideways on the pillow. The curtains were open a crack, just like I’d seen. And there was the dark outline of a man, standing on the walkway outside.

Oh, God, it wasn’t a dream; it was real. I lay there, my pulse echoing in my ears. Could he see us? Could he see who I was? I watched, too scared to look away, as the man tried to peer in, his head moving behind the curtain. Finally I heard the sound of a car approaching, and he abruptly left. The room lightened a fraction as a slit of sunshine angled in through the window.

Flinging my covers back, I lunged across to Alex’s bed and shook his shoulder. “Alex! Alex, wake up!”

“Mm?” He stirred, lifting his head from the pillow. “What is it?”

“There was a man looking in our window.”

He came awake in a second, sitting up. “When? Just now?”

I rubbed my arms; I felt cold suddenly. “Yes, I saw him. He was looking in through the crack in the curtains. Then a car came, and he left.”

Alex swore, glancing at the window.

“I’d better close the curtains —” I started off his bed; he stopped me with a touch on the arm.

“No, don’t — then he’ll know we saw him.” He sat silently, gazing at the window and tapping his fingers on his knee. “OK. Whoever it is can’t know for sure it’s you, or else he wouldn’t have been trying to look in. But he’s going to be watching the room now — we’ve got to get out of here somehow without him seeing you.”

The fact that Alex already seemed to be planning what we should do helped my own mind to clear, and my panic faded slightly. “The bathroom window?” I suggested.

His dark eyebrows rose as he considered it. He nodded. “Maybe — I could kick the screen out —”

We both jumped as the phone rang.

Our eyes met, startled, as it shrilled through the room again. Finally Alex leaned across the bed and picked it up. “Hello?” I couldn’t believe how relaxed he sounded, as if he’d just woken up and was still half groggy. There was a pause; I could hear a man’s voice. “OK,” said Alex finally. “Thanks. I just got up; I’ll be there in about an hour.”

He looked at me as he hung up. “The garage, supposedly. They said that the car’s ready.”

My eyes flicked to the gap in the curtains. “It — it could be someone trying to lure us out of the room.”

“Yeah, it could,” he said.

We both stared up at the digital clock on the TV. It was ten twenty.

“He said the car wouldn’t be ready until around noon, but  . . . ” Alex trailed off, his face intense, thoughtful. “It sounded like him, though. And he seemed OK to you, right?”

I shrugged, not really wanting our lives to depend on this. “As far as I could tell, but  . . . ”

“I think we’ll have to take a chance.” Alex moved suddenly, throwing his covers back and getting out of bed on the other side from me. “Keep out of sight while I get dressed, OK?”

He grabbed his things and went into the bathroom. Shakily, I went and sat down at the table; it was close enough to the outside wall that no one would be able to see me. I heard Alex take what had to have been the fastest shower in history, and a few minutes later he was out again, dressed in jeans and a gray T-shirt, his hair damp. I watched as he moved around the room, throwing clothes into his bag. Finally he took his pistol from the dresser and tucked it into his holster; I caught a glimpse of toned, flat stomach.

“I’ll go get us some breakfast,” he said.

“What? Alex, I’m not exactly hungry right now.”

He smiled slightly. “No, me neither. But if he sees me coming in with breakfast for both of us, he’ll think we’re staying in here for a while.” He looked at the window again. “Get dressed while I’m gone, OK? But make sure you’re not seen.”

I rose from the chair, my legs feeling weak. “Alex, be careful.”

“I’ll be fine. No one’s going to do anything until they know it’s you. Just keep out of sight, all right? Lock the dead bolt when I go, and check the peephole when you hear me knock.”

I nodded, determined that I was going to at least pretend to be as calm as he was. “Yes, all right.”

Alex’s gaze lingered on me for a moment. “Don’t worry. We’ll be OK,” he said softly. And then he left, his body language casual as he went out the door and closed it behind him.

I locked the door, then grabbed my clothes from the day before and scurried into the bathroom. Knowing that he’d be gone at least five minutes, I jumped in and out of the shower and then got dressed, twisting my wet hair up under the baseball cap. Then I finished packing, shoving my clothes and our bathroom things into Alex’s bag as well. When I came to the picture that Mom had taken of me, I wrapped it carefully in tissues and tucked it into my drawstring bag.

Just as I was fastening the bag shut, a knock sounded through the room. Even though I knew it was probably Alex, my heart leaped into my throat. I edged over to the door, craning on my tiptoes to look out the peephole. “It’s me,” said Alex’s voice at the same time. I could see him standing outside, balancing two cups of coffee and a napkin full of donuts.

I undid the lock, then shut the door hastily after him as he came in. “Did you see anyone?”

He nodded as he dumped the food onto the table. “Yeah, there’s a guy at the far end of the parking lot, sort of hanging around outside his car.” He took a quick slurp out of one of the coffees, glancing at me. “Are you ready?”

“Yeah, I think so.” I looked at the small pile of white-powdered donuts and thought I’d never felt less hungry in my life.

“Good, then let’s get out of here.”

I followed Alex as he went into the bathroom. The window there was only half the size of the ones in the bedroom, but still large enough to climb through. Beyond, there were some pine trees and a road; I could hear cars going past. Alex slid the window open and balanced himself up on the toilet. A short, hard kick to the screen, then another one. It fell out with a clatter, landing on the ground below. And even though it seriously wasn’t the time to be noticing it, for a second I found myself just  . . .  admiring the way he moved. His muscles were so fluid, so confident.

Alex jumped back down and went and got his nylon bag, which he lowered toward the ground outside, then let drop. My drawstring bag followed after it. “Can you climb out?” he asked me. The window was sort of high up, almost at chest level.

“If you help me up.”

Now that we were actually getting out, I felt almost calm. I put my hands on the sill, and Alex gave me a boost, lifting me up by the waist. I went through the window and twisted around. Holding on to the sill, I dangled my legs down and then dropped to the ground, stumbling a little as I landed on the screen. I shoved it out of the way, along with our bags. The window was more of a squeeze for Alex, but a few seconds later he had squirmed out and jumped down beside me.

“Can you close the window if I lift you up?” he said, looking back at it. “Just in case he gets in — he might think that he somehow missed us going out the front.”

I shook my head, almost smiling. “You think of everything, don’t you?”