Angel Fire (39 page)

“You really are doing much better, you know,” he commented. We were at the picnic table again; Seb was sitting backwards on the bench with me up on the tabletop beside him.

“Yes, but—” I broke off, scraping my hands over my face. “Oh,
argh
. Why can’t I get this, when you can do it so easily? This is worse than being back in algebra class!”

“I learned when I was a small child – I think this made it much easier,” Seb pointed out mildly. He sat back against the table edge, propping his elbows to either side as he gave me a curious look. “You took algebra?”

I shrugged. “Not by choice. It was required.” I’d told Seb a lot about high school; like Alex, it was something he’d only seen on TV. I pulled my knees up, sitting cross-legged. “Would you have wanted to go, if you’d had the chance? To high school, I mean.”

A ripple of surprise, so that I knew the answer before he said it. “Yes, of course. Even if I’d felt alone there, the way you always did – I’d still like to know more than I do.” He pulled a wry face, like he didn’t want it to matter too much to him. “I could have learned how not to get caught at stealing, maybe.”

Actually, Seb read so much that he knew a lot more than I did about some things. I studied him, trying to picture him in high school. Like Alex, he’d have had every girl in the place after him if he’d gone. Though I had a feeling Alex would have been out on the basketball court, while Seb would have been holed up in the library somewhere.

He pushed lightly at my leg. “Anyway, I know
you
didn’t like school very much, but there must have been something about it you enjoyed.”

“Enjoyed” was pretty strong. I started to laugh and say
Guess again
– and then I remembered my art class. I’d always loved making things with my hands. When the whole Church of Angels thing happened, I’d been working on a kinetic sculpture that used pieces of old engines. If I’d managed to do it right, the different pieces were actually going to move on their own.

I described my sculpture to Seb; he listened with interest. “Yes, I can imagine you doing that.” Then he stroked his stubbled jaw, looking deep in thought. “You know, I think this means I was right,” he decided. “There
is
something you enjoyed.”

“Yeah, I guess,” I admitted. I glanced down at him with a smile, shaking my head. “How did you even
know
that?”

He gave me a smugly arch look. “Ah, you see – I know you better than you know yourself.”

And he really did sometimes; that was the funny thing. In some ways, Seb knew me better than anyone in the world, even Alex. I rested my arms on my thighs; in the background was the never-ending drone of traffic. “Can I ask you something?” I said after a moment.

“You know you can.”

I cleared my throat. I’d been dying to ask him this ever since we first met, but had felt embarrassed for some reason. “I was just wondering...if I could see your angel.”

I felt a leap of emotion from him. “I’ve been wanting to ask you that too,” he admitted. “Very much.”

Both of us were shy suddenly. My cheeks heated. I tucked back a short strand of my hair. “Um...so how should we—”

“We’ll go at the same time,” suggested Seb, straightening up.

I shifted down to the bench, and perched cross-legged, facing him. “Okay, on the count of three.”

He nodded. “One...two...three.”

I closed my eyes briefly on “three”, bringing my angel to me in a bright burst of energy. I merged with her, sent her flying gently from my human body to hover above me.

I opened my eyes. Seb was sitting beside me...and above him was his angel.

I stared with both my angel and human eyes. Seb’s angel looked just like him – lean and powerful, with loose curls and a high-cheekboned face – except that he was radiant with light. His wings stretched out over the table, stirring the night air. I could hardly breathe at the wonder of truly seeing another of my own kind for the first time; I thought I could never drink him in enough. From Seb’s face, I knew he felt exactly the same. More, even – he’d been longing for this for so many years.

Seb’s angel wore jeans and a T-shirt, and suddenly I realized my angel could be clad in anything I wanted. I shifted my angelic robes to a vintage dress from the sixties that I’d always loved; saw Seb’s slight smile as he noticed. Hovering in my angel form, I took in Seb’s ethereal hands, and how strong and shining they looked. I longed to reach out my own hand – to see what it was like to touch another of my kind in this form too. Something held me back and, with an effort, I kept my arm where it was. It just seemed...too much, for now.

On the bench, Seb’s eyes were steady on mine. They caught and held me; I felt almost dazed with wonder that somehow the two of us had found each other – that he had found me. My mouth went dry as I sensed again the true depth of his feelings for me, but I couldn’t have looked away from Seb just then to save my life. I was so aware of how much I wanted to send my angel self soaring with his, the two of us flying so far up that we’d find the stars beyond the city lights – but we both knew it wasn’t safe here.

Finally, with a last long look at each other, our angels returned to our human bodies in a rush of gleaming wings, so that once more it appeared to be just Seb and me out in the dingy concrete courtyard together. Neither of us moved as we sat there, our gazes still locked. It felt...I can’t describe how it felt. We’d seen this innermost part of each other, shared our true selves.

I saw Seb’s throat move. His eyes were bright. Without speaking, he reached for my hand; I was reaching for his in the same moment. Our fingers met and twined together, gripping each other hard. It didn’t even feel like we had a choice. Seb and I had to touch just then – had to somehow try to express what we’d just experienced. Letting out a ragged breath, I leaned against the firm warmth of his arm, our fingers still tightly linked.

We sat that way for a long time, with the urban night humming gently with life around us.

“S
O HOW ARE WE GETTING
into the Torre Mayor?” demanded Sam for the hundredth time. “’Cause with as long as Kara’s taking, I’m starting to think we’d better forget the security stuff. Hell, let’s just bust in there, do what we gotta do, and get out again!”

They were returning from another hunt, at Alameda Central this time. The Metro was less crowded than usual, allowing the AKs to sit together in an almost-empty car. Alex groaned and dropped his head back against the window. “Sam, we’ve had this conversation,” he said. “Tell me again, why is it a good idea for us to go storming in there without any idea what we’re walking into? Oh yeah, I forgot – we’re in a Rambo movie.”

“Well, we can’t just keep waiting for Kara to get the goddamn code,” grumbled Sam. He sat sprawled back in his seat: a large, disgruntled Texan. “The Council’ll be gone before she gets it at this rate.”

Alex didn’t answer, fully aware that if worst came to worst, they’d have to make an attempt on the Council anyway. He sighed, massaging his eyes. The angels in the city were definitely on the alert now. There weren’t nearly as many out feeding as there’d been just a couple of weeks ago, and those that were seemed to be feeding somewhat perfunctorily; were less inclined to savour their prey. Even so, the team had managed to bring down four today – and three of them had blasted straight back at him. Distantly, Alex wondered what kind of damage he was taking from all the angel fallout lately. Martin, his father, used to be riddled with it sometimes.

To Alex’s side, Liz and Trish were talking in excited, low voices about the hunt; Wesley and Brendan sat across from them, joining in occasionally. Wesley in particular looked psyched, almost smiling for a change – he’d gotten two of the creatures. The team wasn’t doing badly; they really weren’t. But they had less than a week to go now.

“You still haven’t told me what the plan is,” observed Sam, tapping his fingers on his leg.

“No kidding,” said Alex shortly. He had no intention of telling Sam or anyone else until he had to; morale would plummet. Well, maybe not Sam’s morale. But the sane members of the team’s, definitely.

He’d spent days scoping out the Torre Mayor’s deliveries entrance while pretending to be fiddling with the Shadow’s engine in a nearby parking lot – and by now, he thought he had a pretty solid plan for how he could get the team in there and up the service elevator. Juan’s white van would be perfect; half the deliveries came in white vans. Though the service elevator would be sure to have that top floor locked off too, they could reach the floor below, then take the stairwell, where he’d shoot out the security cameras immediately. The sudden blank screens in the security office would no doubt bring someone to check the cause within minutes, but they’d be in by then – it would take no time at all to get up the stairs and shoot the door open with a silenced pistol. If they could get to the Council quickly after that, Alex thought their chances of getting in and out alive weren’t terrible. It was conceivable that they could get down in the main elevator and be out the front door before anyone even figured out what had happened – especially in the chaos of all the angels suddenly vanishing.

It was that word “quickly” that kept him awake at night and made him keep the plan firmly to himself. Because they just didn’t know what was going on now. They couldn’t be sure of getting to the Council quickly when they had
no idea
if the schedule was still the right one; no idea what the layout was, or what room the Twelve would be in. Alex had nightmare visions of the team wandering around, looking in doors, while security came racing towards them, having tipped off the angels that there were intruders in their midst.

The train came to Zócalo station; Alex stood up abruptly. The others looked at him in surprise – their stop was still several stations away. “Let’s get off here,” he said, shoving his hands into the front pockets of his sweatshirt. “I want to check something out.”

As they came up the stairs from the station, they could hear shouting on the sidewalk – there was a shoving match going on between some of the Crusaders and the Faithful. “My mother is dying!” screamed a man. His face was wild, contorted with fury. “There are no beds for her, no doctors—”

“If she had true faith, the angels would help her!” bellowed someone back. There were signs waving; elbows flying as people scuffled. Alex and the others skirted around them; a man in a business suit lurched backwards and just as quickly flung himself back into the fray. Trish looked worried as they passed, glancing back over her shoulder. Alex could see that she wanted to somehow defuse the tension, just as she always wanted to smooth things over for the group.

“Alex, that looks like it could get serious—” she started.

“I know, but ignore it,” he said, not breaking his stride. “We don’t want to get involved.” The police mostly seemed to ignore the Crusaders, unless things got violent – then, undoubtedly, whoever they arrested got dragged off to the angels.

Trish bit her lip, but nodded. When they were directly across from the slightly tilting mass of the Catedral Metropolitana – no, the Catedral de los Ángeles; he kept forgetting – Alex dug his cellphone out of his jeans pocket. Tapping the buttons with his thumb, he sent Kara a text:
We’re at Zocalo. Where r u? Can u check out cathedral with us?

A few seconds later a reply came:
I’m here 2. Meet u outside cathedral in 5
.

Alex texted a quick
Yes
and tucked his phone away again. Good – he’d thought she’d still be here. Though he’d been to the cathedral several times now to study the layout, he felt twitchy with impatience suddenly – he wanted to see the place again; see if he’d missed anything. “Come on, we’re going to check out the cathedral,” he said to the others.

“Well hallelujah, we’re finally doing something,” said Sam with a grin.

Alex gave him a level glance. “Yes, we are. We are going to go in and
look
. Not start shooting. Got it?”

Sam gave a slight grimace, but nodded. “I got it, don’t worry.”

They headed across the broad stretch of the Zócalo, accompanied by the incessant beat of drums from Aztec dancers. Alex knew that in December the city usually erected a giant ice-skating rink in the square, but this year there was nothing – either
el DF
no longer had funds for it, or they’d decided it would detract from the glory of the converted cathedral. There were hardly any Christmas decorations up around the city, either; he’d heard on the news that a lot of people saw the holiday as lacking in meaning now. Many were planning to start celebrating Arrival Day – October 31st – as their main holiday instead, to honour the angels.
Great
, thought Alex in distaste, picturing it.

They passed through the cathedral’s wrought-iron gates; the faded red and black tiles that had once been underfoot were now celestial silver and light blue. Wesley glanced up at the golden angel.

“I still can’t believe they did that,” he muttered to Alex. “That angel was the most famous monument in Mexico City.”