Angel Fire (23 page)

His eyes were so beautiful; stormy skies reflected in a blue sea. My fears started to fade, looking into them.
You’re panicking,
I told myself.
He’s gotten migraines in the past, and he’s stressed out of his mind right now. He’s right. It’s got nothing to do with you.

I ran my fingers through his dark hair. “I wasn’t trying to argue with you in front of everyone,” I said softly. “It’s just that we’ve always decided things together.”

“I know,” he said. “We still do – I need you, Willow. But this time it’s different. I don’t want you going anywhere near the cathedral unless we don’t have a choice; it’s too dangerous.”

I hated pressing the point when he was in so much pain, but I had to say it: “Even if we could find out more information about the Council? So that we know for sure what to expect?”

“How likely is that, though? I’ve never known you to get anything specific just from being inside a place. The most I’ve ever seen you get is feelings.”

“I know, but there could still be a chance, even if it’s a tiny one. Alex, if it wasn’t me – if it was someone else on the team who was half-angel—”

“I’d be saying the same thing,” he broke in. “Seriously, this isn’t about me being in love with you. It’s just too risky, for not enough return. That place is full of angels – if they saw that you were here in the city, it could jeopardize everything.”

I sighed – when he put it like that, I could see his point. After a pause, I bent over and kissed his mouth upside down; he tilted his chin up to make it linger. Our lips left each other slowly. “Okay,” I said. “You’re the boss.”

“Yeah, I must have been really bad in a past life or something.” He smiled, his eyes still in pain. Reaching up, he touched a strand of my hair. “Don’t leave, okay?”

“Shh. I’m not going anywhere.” I kept stroking his forehead, trailing my fingers across it. His muscular shoulders gradually relaxed, his eyes closing again. His breathing slowed, became more regular.

I could hear the TV on in the other room, the sound of voices. None of it mattered to me. I stayed there until long after Alex had fallen asleep – gently caressing the brow of the boy I loved, trying to keep his pain at bay.

The other AKs kept improving with their moving targets, until Alex started doing combat variations with them – making them run across the room, drop into a roll and then shoot, that kind of thing. Their averages plummeted again, but I saw that this time it didn’t take long for their scores to start climbing back up. They were getting there. Sam was the best shot by far; he’d obviously taken Alex’s demonstration with his pistol that day as a personal challenge. At first, Wesley had been as awkward with guns as he was around people, but now he wasn’t far behind Sam, and Trish was pretty much on a level with him – she seemed to aim and shoot in a single motion, hardly even thinking. I don’t know why that surprised me, except Trish was so nice that you didn’t tend to think of her and guns in the same sentence. Brendan and Liz weren’t doing badly, either – they were both consistent enough to be dependable, at least.

Unlike me. Though I’d gotten pretty good at shooting a stationary target, I still hadn’t reached a ninety per cent success rate; I couldn’t get over the habit of flinching each time I pulled the trigger. I really didn’t think I was ever going to get used to this – the cold weight of the weapon, the acrid smell of gunpowder.

Standing in the target range with the muted thumps of gunfire around me, I braced myself for the kick of the pistol as I aimed – and then that strange prickling feeling nagged at the nape of my neck again. I
knew
no one would be there, but I still had to glance and check. Only the wall of the range looked back. I let out a breath, wishing I could get over feeling so self-conscious in this place.

As target practice continued, part of me wondered why I was even bothering to learn how to shoot now, apart from my personal safety. When Alex and I had talked some more about the Council attack, he’d convinced me that it wasn’t a good idea for me to go – that the threat of my aura attracting attention and putting the team in even greater danger in that situation was too great. I hated it,
hated
it. This was my fight too. I couldn’t bear the thought of staying behind while Alex and the others risked their lives; of not being there to do whatever I could to help them. But I knew he was right. No one had any idea what Paschar’s vision meant, including me...and meanwhile, my aura was like a big neon arrow pointing right at me. This was the only chance we were going to get. My personal feelings about not being included didn’t even come into it.

I sighed and squeezed the trigger, felt the report jump through me. A hole appeared just at the edge of the bullseye. “Hey, that’s a lot better,” said Alex, pausing to watch. He glanced at me; his mouth creased in sympathetic amusement. “You still totally hate this, don’t you?”

“Me? No, I was born to be a gun moll.” I set my jaw as I started to aim again.

He reached over and corrected my hold on the gun slightly, his fingers warm on mine. For a second he was almost his old self again. “You make a really cute one, you know that?” he said in an undertone. “All you need is one of those thirties gangster suits.”

“Ho, ho.”

I saw the kiss he wanted to give me in his eyes. Then he was gone again, heading towards Brendan. I held back a smile as I looked after him, wishing as usual we’d had longer to talk. Returning to my target, I squared my shoulders – and somewhere inside of me, my angel gave a flutter, darkly restless. In an awful way I’d gotten used to this by now; only half thinking about it, I pushed her aside in my mind.

Only this time it didn’t work.

My angel broke free with a shining rush, soaring out of me. With a startled gasp, I stood gaping up at her as she hovered.
I couldn’t feel what she was feeling any more
. Oh my god, what was happening; who
was
this creature with my face? Belatedly, I tore my gaze away, my heart thudding. I couldn’t let anyone see me staring upwards – couldn’t let anyone figure out what was going on.

Before my angel could do anything, I quickly switched my consciousness to hers. All at once, I was the one hovering overhead, looking down at the foreshortened Willow below, still aiming the gun as if nothing was happening. My angel knew what I was about to do; there was a sudden mental frenzy as she fought against me. Gritting my teeth, I ignored her and swooped back into my human body. A flapping struggle; almost a scream of frustration as my angel tried to wrest free – but for now at least I was stronger, and I shoved her away inside of me.

The whole thing had taken only seconds. I took a few breaths, making sure I really had control. I could sense her frustration now, and that weird looseness again...but my angel had gone silent. Shakily, I flicked the safety on the gun and rested it on the floor. Alex glanced over, and I tried to smile.

“Bathroom,” I mouthed, and he nodded.

Upstairs, I splashed water on my face. My eyes in the mirror looked large and frightened; my face pale. Okay. This was not good. This was really, really not good. I had to tell Alex, only what could he do? He wouldn’t know what was going on any more than I did. But I couldn’t keep this from him any longer, no matter how much I didn’t want to face it myself; it had gotten way too serious. The possibility that I really
could
be responsible for his migraine – and that it might be a symptom of something far worse – came to me again, chilling my blood. Suddenly it seemed only too likely. I wanted so much to believe it wasn’t true; that my touch wasn’t hurting him – but how could I
know
, when I had this thing inside me that I didn’t even understand any more?

I caught sight of my crystal pendant in the mirror, and went very still. I heard Alex’s voice saying,
Your angel is you; she’s a part of you. And that means she’s...everything I love.
”

Alex had always believed – always – that my angel wasn’t something separate from me; that she was just another aspect of myself. What was he going to think when he found out that wasn’t true? That she had separate thoughts from mine; that I couldn’t even
control
her any more?

My hands were ice. I slumped weakly against the sink, imagining the look that would be on his face when he found out. Oh god, he’d defended me to the whole team, telling them that they could trust me, and now – I swallowed. The thought that his beautiful eyes might look at me with dread, or suspicion, made me feel sick. I knew how much he loved me, but the angels had killed his whole family. He’d devoted his entire life to fighting them. Could he really still feel the same about me, when he found out my angel self had a mind of its own? I had to tell him; I knew I didn’t have a choice.

But how?

J
ENNY SAT CROSS-LEGGED ON THE
other side of the desk, looking radiant with happiness – if a bit tired and drained. “Would you like to arrange a meeting with him, sir?” she asked.

Tapping a pen, Raziel glanced over the email printout in question. The town of Silver Trail was a few dozen miles up in the Rockies; the weather might be foul this time of year. Still, the proposed idea was intriguing.

“What do
you
think?” he asked, smiling at Jenny. Her almost-demure business suit hugged her figure. He couldn’t imagine now why he’d wasted so much time with a male assistant whose energy he didn’t even find appealing; he must have been insane.

She flushed, eyes shining. “I think it’s a wonderful idea – really wonderful. It could make such a difference to so many people’s lives.”

Indeed it could; Raziel already had thoughts about how he could put his own spin on the scheme. “I think you’re right,” he said, handing the email back to her. “Go ahead and arrange the meeting.”

Once Jenny had departed, Raziel’s momentary good mood faded. Scheduling meetings as if nothing had happened was all very well, but meanwhile he was going mad with nerves.

There will be no changes in how things are run. That is my promise.

Raziel’s face darkened as he recalled the TV interview. It had been big news for a few days, with his own image smiling out at him from all the major papers. Not very clever, he supposed. But when the question had been asked, he’d been standing in the same place in the cathedral where the Council had demanded to see him in private, as if he were a naughty schoolboy about to be told off. Anger had bristled through him, remembering, and with the reporter’s microphone thrust in his face, the words had come of their own accord. Saying them had given him deep satisfaction at the time, but now he wished he’d been more circumspect. Though the Council probably hadn’t had much doubt that he had no intention of toeing the line, they’d have none at all after this.

The Twelve had shown no reaction to his statement. Yet.

The knowledge that they were deliberately keeping quiet to let him do exactly what he was now doing – writhe uncomfortably, wondering how they’d respond – made Raziel’s teeth clench. The time for their demise couldn’t come quickly enough for him now, in more ways than one. But if his own death was caused by the Council perishing, at least he’d have the pleasure of knowing he’d taken them out with him.

The plan was now securely in place – though Charmeine had found something out that made its probable outcome less uncertain than before, and not in an especially reassuring way.

After her brief trip to Mexico City, Charmeine had managed a day away from the Twelve and spent it here at the cathedral with him, in his private quarters. He’d given orders to Jenny that he wasn’t to be disturbed – he’d had a feeling things would resume between him and Charmeine, and had been correct, as it turned out. Enjoyable, but utterly calculated on both their parts; it had cemented their alliance even further, making it easier to read each other’s thoughts.

“So I found Luis without any trouble,” she’d said later on. Raziel had already gleaned some of this from her mind – flashes of an earnest-looking young man with brown eyes and thick black hair – but still listened with interest as she described the encounter. “He’s pretty smitten with this Kara person. It didn’t take much to get him to trust her.”

“You fed from him,” summed up Raziel. They were on the luxurious leather sofa; Charmeine had her long legs draped over his lap.

“Well, obviously. Several times, just to make sure he got the message.” She stifled a yawn. She had on Raziel’s black silk dressing gown; her pale hair spilled down it in stark contrast. “Sorry. I have to keep myself shielded all the time around the Twelve, without them realizing – it’s pretty tiring.”

“You’re holding out against them though.” Raziel’s voice had sharpened.

“
Yes
, don’t worry. I’m fine, it’s all right.” Charmeine rolled her eyes, nudging his thigh with a slender foot. “As if I thought for a second that my welfare is what’s concerning you.”

He hadn’t bothered to deny it; she’d have felt the same. Just because he could, he slid his hand up her leg and let his thoughts go wandering through hers, relishing the sense of all doors opening to him – it had a thrill of its own. Naturally, his own mental doors weren’t all open to her, though she’d think they were. He’d constructed an elaborate false memory detailing how he’d anonymously gotten into contact with the Angel Killers and gained their trust – the last thing he wanted was for anyone, including Charmeine, to realize he had a link with the half-angel. A good false memory had the same vivid sensory details as the real thing; Raziel was quite proud of the level of attention he’d put into this one. Charmeine could have done something similar, of course, but he didn’t think she had. He could sense her loathing of the Council seeping through her almost every thought; there was no way she could fake that.
Hiding
it was just about possible, though not easy. It wasn’t surprising she was tired.