Angel Burn (40 page)

“Alex said that there would be,” I said after a pause. “Church of Angels members on the police force, I mean.”

Sophie’s face was thoughtful as she flicked ash out the window. “He’s quite extraordinary,” she said. “For someone so young, to do the things he’s done. . . .”

“He’s never really been young,” I said softly, looking away. “He never had the chance.” No, but when it was just the two of us, alone together — I pressed my head against the window, seeing his grin, his laughing eyes. And then his face when he had realized I was leaving.

He hadn’t even told me good-bye.

Glancing at me, Sophie went silent; we didn’t speak for a long time. Finally the car took a turnoff, and a few minutes later we were heading down an unmarked drive. A low, tan building rose up from a manicured lawn. There were no signs. Sophie sat up, unfastening her seat belt. “A CIA satellite office,” she explained, though I hadn’t asked. “We can brief you here, and there are showers, beds  . . . ”

I nodded dully, gazing at the stark, featureless building. I was so far away from Alex, almost a thousand miles. It felt like every one of them was crushing my heart like a stone.

I got out of the car. We walked up a short flight of cement stairs and then through a pair of gleaming glass doors. Sophie and Nate showed ID at a desk and then ushered me down a carpetless hallway. The floor was so polished, I could see our reflections as we walked; our footsteps echoed around us.

“Here we go,” said Nate, opening a door. We stepped into a small apartment with sofas and chairs. A kitchenette sat at one end, with a breakfast counter and bar stools.

Sophie put her briefcase onto the coffee table. “Would you like to get freshened up?” she asked me. “There’s a shower if you feel like it.” She indicated the hallway past the kitchen.

I was still wearing the sweatpants and T-shirt I had slept in, and the red sweater Alex had given me. An irrational part of me never wanted to take them off, as if doing so would break the last link that I had with him. But it didn’t make any difference, did it? I’d probably never see him again no matter what I wore. The thought lashed at me like a whip. Then I realized that Sophie and Nate were both looking at me, waiting for an answer. “I guess,” I said, my voice barely audible, even to me. “I don’t have any shampoo, though, or —” Memories of the motel room in Tennessee swarmed over me, and I broke off, closing my eyes against the sudden pain. “Sorry,” I said, trying to regain myself. “I don’t have any shampoo.”

Sophie’s brown eyes looked troubled, but she tried to smile. “Don’t worry. Everything you need’s in there.”

In the bathroom I stripped off my clothes, folding them carefully. As I glanced in the mirror, the pendant gleamed on my chest. I touched it, trying to comprehend how fast things had changed. Just hours ago I’d been standing in front of the cabin with Alex’s arms around me, the two of us about to leave together.

I couldn’t hold it in any longer. Turning on the shower so that I couldn’t be heard, I got in and sobbed, hugging myself as the hot water rained down around me.
Oh, Alex. Oh, God, please don’t hate me, please don’t. I miss you so much already. I wanted it all with you, everything. I want you here with me now, to hold me and tell me it’s going to be OK, that maybe I won’t actually die when I do this thing. . . .

I cried until there were no tears left. Feeling worse than I had before, I washed my hair and climbed out of the shower. My face in the steamy mirror looked sore and swollen, as if someone had been using it as a punching bag. I stared at myself, not caring. Mechanically, I took the clothes from my bag and got dressed. Underwear, jeans, and the pale-blue T-shirt. I pulled on the red sweater again. It hurt, seeing it, but it would have hurt ten times worse not to wear it. I combed out my wet hair and twisted it up into a knot.

When I went back into the living room, Nate and Sophie were sitting on one of the sofas, talking. They looked up, their faces furrowing in concern as they saw me. Nate went over to the kitchenette and got out some mugs. “Coffee?”

I sat on the edge of the armchair. My head was throbbing. “No — thank you. Just water, please.”

“How about some food?” asked Sophie. She leaned forward with her arms on her knees, watching me. “We’ve got sandwiches, or we could order something else in if you want.”

“I’m not really hungry. Thanks,” I added faintly, as Nate filled a glass with ice water and brought it to me. It was a hexagonal shape, and felt cool and slightly damp against my fingers. I rubbed it against my aching eyes and forehead.

Nate leaned against the sofa. “You should eat something. You need to keep your strength up.”

I stared down at the glass in my hands, swirling the water. “Maybe later.”

Sophie hesitated. “Look, Willow, we’re concerned about you, but we also have to confess to a certain amount of self-interest here. Believe me, I know what you must be going through, but  . . .  well, to put it bluntly, we need you to be able to function tomorrow.”

Pain kicked through me. I saw the cabin; felt myself falling asleep in the warmth of Alex’s arms. Felt his lips, kissing me awake in the morning. I closed my eyes, longing to say,
Sorry, I’ve changed my mind. You’ll have to figure something else out.
But it had to be me — I was the only one. Somehow I had to pull myself together enough to do this, or else leaving Alex and breaking both of our hearts had been for nothing.

With a deep, shaking breath, I opened my eyes. I took a sip of water and placed the glass on the table, carefully lining it up with the edge.

“I know,” I said. “I’ll be able to.”

We spent the rest of the day going over the plan. “The celebration will be massive,” said Sophie, spreading out a map of the cathedral on the table. “They’ve got a musical program lined up, a special service — the works. None of that really concerns you, though. You won’t be arriving until just before the gate opens.”

I looked down at the map. There were hundreds of rows of pews and thousands of other seats behind them, stretching up toward the ceiling. At the very front of every- thing, near the pulpit, was a long, wide space. “Is that where the gate’s going to be?” I asked, pointing.

“That’s right,” said Nate, his blue eyes narrowed as he studied the plans. “And there’ll be a Plexiglas barrier between the front row of pews and the gate area, across here.” He sketched a line with his finger. “They were going to have one anyway for crowd control, but it’s a help to us — if people suspect you and get unruly, it’ll at least slow them down a little.”

Sophie was holding a pen; she twiddled it in her hands. “The others in the front area with you will be the acolytes from each state — you’re going to pretend to be one, too — and the preacher, of course. The choir will be up on a second-floor balcony, so they shouldn’t be a problem. But unfortunately there will also be two angels there.”

“At least it’s only two,” said Nate before I could react. He glanced at me. “Raziel is the angel who runs the Church; he’s based in the main cathedral. He’s decided that the celebration will be for humans only and that the angels already in this world will greet the new arrivals later. Really, though, he just wants to be one of the only angels present when the Second Wavers arrive — he’s making a statement about his position here.”

“Him and his sidekick, an angel named Lailah,” said Sophie. “They’re pretty certain to be in the gate area along with you and the others, but hopefully you’ll be able to move fast enough that no one has time to react.”

My throat felt like it had turned to dust as I stared at them. “But  . . .  won’t one of them notice my aura as I go in?” I asked. I knew that angels in their human form could scan things just like Alex if they tried, and with its silver-and-lavender lights, my aura instantly revealed what I was: half angel, half human.

With a sigh, Sophie tucked a strand of her brown hair back. “Unfortunately, that’s a variable we can’t really control,” she said. “We’ve done our best, though — our contact is going to report your death tomorrow, so hopefully neither of them will be scanning for you.”

I rubbed my hands on my jeans, wondering what Alex would say about all of this. “OK,” I said finally. “What happens next?”

“The gate’s scheduled to open at six o’clock sharp,” Nate continued. “The required energy is all being generated from the other side. At about two minutes to six, a line of acolytes from every state in the country is going to file out, entering from this door here.” He pointed on the map.

“You’re Wisconsin,” said Sophie. Getting up, she went to a small closet and took out a silvery-blue robe with a hood. “We didn’t know whether we’d be able to find you or not, but we had one made in your size just in case. Would you try it on to check?” She held it out to me.

The thought of the robe already being made, sitting in a closet in Colorado waiting for me, sent goose bumps up my arms. Reluctantly, I went over and took it from Sophie; it swung slightly on its padded hanger. When I tried it on, its material was silky-slippery, whispering its way down my body.

Sophie took a step back, her eyes narrowed as she scrutinized me. “Not bad, given that I had to guess at the measurements. A little too long, but I think it’ll be all right once we get some heels on you.”

I stood gazing down at myself. The robe had long sleeves and a high neck; it covered every inch of me. I smoothed my hands down the front of it. It felt awful, like a costume I wasn’t ever going to be able to take off. A chill swept over me as I realized that was pretty much the case. It was likely that I’d die in it.

“The hood was a last-minute addition, once our Church of Angels person agreed to the plan,” said Nate. “It should help stop people from recognizing you.”

“We’ll need to pull your hair back, though,” added Sophie. “I’ve got some bobby pins.”

“All right,” I said. All I wanted to do was get the thing off me. I started to pull it over my head.

“Wait a second — let’s test the angelica,” said Nate. He opened the briefcase, taking out the grayish stone.

“Yes, look,” said Sophie. Reaching inside my left sleeve, she showed me a hidden pouch with an elastic top. Nate came over and handed her the angelica; she tucked it in. I could feel the weight of it, heavy against my arm. “Can you take a few steps, so that we can see what it looks like?” asked Sophie.

I hated this, really hated it. But I’d agreed; I was here of my own free choice — and now I had a job to do. I took a deep breath, then walked across the room and back. The robe billowed about my feet.

“Good,” said Sophie, watching. “The sleeve’s full enough so that you can’t see the outline of the angelica at all.”

“OK. The plan is that you’ll enter with the other acolytes, right before six o’clock,” said Nate. He sat on the back of the sofa, one foot still resting on the ground. “There’s a dress rehearsal tonight, but you won’t be going to it; we can’t risk someone recognizing you. But what’s going to happen is simple: the acolytes will enter single file, face the wall, and kneel.”

Sophie nodded. “At that point, the giant TV screen is going to be turned off. The official reason is that no one would be able to view the screen with the angels flying past, but really it’s just to give you some added security while you make the attempt, so that no one in the audience will notice your face.”

I felt dazed; they seemed to have thought of every detail. “And  . . .  what happens then?”

Sophie’s voice was businesslike, almost brisk. “When you kneel with the others, you’re going to be front and center: right in front of where the gate will start to open. The acolytes will all have their hands in the prayer position, so as you kneel, slip the angelica out of the pouch and hold it between your palms.” She demonstrated with her hands.

“Then keep watching the air in front of you,” said Nate. “The moment you see a faint ripple begin, that’s your signal. Materialize your angel, contact the angelica, and run forward. The gate will be twenty feet away; you’ll only have a few seconds to get to it in time.”

Dizziness washed over me. This was real; it was actually going to happen. “Maybe — maybe I’d better practice contacting the stone,” I said weakly, fingering the pouch inside my sleeve.

“Yes, we were going to suggest that,” said Sophie. “Try getting it out of the pocket, too, and hiding it between your palms.”

Palming the rock was harder than I’d thought it would be. I had to do it over and over, my fingers fumbling with the elastic, before I finally got the hang of twisting my left hand upward into the sleeve and snagging the angelica in a single motion. At last I had done it smoothly a few times in a row.

“Good. Now pretend that you’ve seen the ripple,” said Nate. He was sitting on the sofa, watching with his forearms propped on his knees. “Ready to try contacting the stone?”

I nodded. Closing my eyes, I found my angel. She was there immediately this time, waiting for me; in a matter of seconds, I’d merged with her and lifted up out of myself, hovering with wings spread. In the same instant, I was aware of the stone between my human hands: it gave off a silvery aura, throbbing with life. I reached toward it with my angel hand, stroking its energy with my own and sending it a wordless greeting.

As our two energies made contact, the angelica began to pulse. I could actually feel it beating between my palms, like a living heart.

“Perfect — when you do it tomorrow, you should activate the angelica just as you start running forward,” said Nate. “Good work, Willow.”

In my angel form, I drifted downward, folding my wings and merging with my human one. Alone again, I stared at the stone that lay cupped in my hand. It looked so ordinary, almost like a piece of granite.

But it could destroy a wall between worlds.

Feeling cold, I tucked it back into its elastic pouch. “I think I’ll go practice on my own for a while and then go to bed,” I said. It was almost six o’clock by then. “Is the bedroom mine?”

Nate nodded. “I’ll be sleeping on the sofa bed tonight; Sophie’s got another apartment down the hall.”

“Don’t you want anything to eat?” asked Sophie. “We could order in some food.”