Angel Fire (53 page)

The city had taken on a nightmarish feel of flames and shouting; the sound of breaking glass and sirens came from somewhere nearby.
Oh god, Willow, please be alive
, thought Alex as he raced towards the chaos and the looting. If Willow had died, his heart would die, too. Though he knew he’d still try to save the world from the angels – for his family and Willow’s family and everyone else who’d been hurt by them – for him, it would be too late.

The world would already have ended.

F
INALLY WE LEFT THE PLASTIC
tunnels of the marketplace behind and came to a dark street full of warehouses and boarded-up buildings. I felt Seb scan; decide it was safe. “This is it,” he said, heading down the side of one of the warehouses.

I stepped carefully, hardly able to see – there was only the distant gleam of street lights. A rustling noise came from some nearby weeds. A cat, maybe. A tall chain-link fence rose up alongside us, with razor glints of barbed wire curling over the top.

Seb went to a dim corner, where the barbed wire lay flattened for a foot or two. “Can you get over?” he asked.

I eyed the fence. “You’d better go first,” I said. “Then I can land on you if I fall.” I wasn’t totally kidding; high heels weren’t ideal for things like this.

Seb nodded and grasped the fence; it rattled as he climbed up and swung himself over. He dropped the final few feet, landing nimbly on the cracked concrete. I took out the file from beneath my jacket and slid it under the fence. Then I followed, angling my sandalled feet awkwardly in the diamond-shaped holes. Manoeuvring myself over the top, I was hotly conscious of my short skirt, and just how much leg I was showing.

Finally my feet touched the ground again. Seb was barely visible – just his white shirt, and the slant of his cheekbones catching the faint light. “It’s over here,” he said. He led me to the back of the warehouse, where I could just make out a pile of trash lying against the corrugated metal wall: an old sofa; some broken office chairs, scraps of plywood.

He glanced at me. “I’m sorry – we have to crawl. There’s a loose panel behind this we can get through.”

I thought of the rustling noise from the weeds, but I nodded. “That’s okay. How did you ever find this place?”

Seb was already on his hands and knees, edging behind the sofa. It lay at an angle against the warehouse, forming a sort of entrance. “Just poking around, after I escaped from the orphanage,” he replied, his voice muffled. “I used to have lots of hiding places, all around the city. Most of the buildings are torn down now, though.”

A metallic creaking noise, then a long pause.

“Seb?” I called, hugging the file to my chest.

The sound of a match striking. “Yes, it’s all right,” he called back. “Come on.”

I buttoned the file into my jacket again, then kneeled down and started to crawl. The old velvet sofa smelled mouldy; gravel dug into my palms and knees. Ahead, a sliver of light beckoned from the warehouse wall, where a piece of corrugated metal didn’t quite lie flush.

The panel lifted as I crawled towards it – Seb, holding it open for me. I squeezed through, past his arm. Once inside, I got to my feet and brushed myself off, looking around in amazement. The light came from a small cluster of lit candles that seemed to be growing from the concrete floor. A sleeping bag lay beside them, along with a stack of children’s paperbacks with worn spines. I picked up the top one, surprised that I recognized the cover –
The Incredible Journey
. Our fourth-grade teacher had read that out loud to us. I placed it carefully back, straightening it so that it lined up with the others again.

Seb stood with his hands in his pockets, looking embarrassed. “When I was a boy, I stayed here often,” he said with a shrug. “I stole all the books,” he added.

I cleared my throat. “It’s okay, I think you get a special pass for stealing books. From what I hear, it’s something book lovers would understand.” It felt like we were both treading water to stay above the surface, avoiding all the topics that might drag us under. I pulled out the file and laid it on the sleeping bag. “What
is
this place?” I gazed into the shadows beyond the candlelight. “Is it just abandoned?”

“No, someone owns it.” Seb bent down and snapped a candle from the floor; it came away like a small tree, with waxy roots spreading out. “Come, I’ll show you.”

Our footsteps echoed on the concrete. I couldn’t hold back a gasp as the first face appeared from the gloom. Statue after stone statue stood scattered throughout the warehouse, like some weird, silent cocktail party. Propped up against the walls were several huge stained-glass windows – the candlelight flickered across their panels, sending a rainbow of colours sparking around us.

“Is this all from a church?” I touched the cold stone face of the nearest statue: a man in robes, his expression kindly – as if he might have some answers to everything that was going on, if only he could speak.

Seb was beside me, holding up the candle. He nodded. “Even before the Church of Angels really got started here, a few smaller churches were taken over by angel-worshippers. I think someone must have stored these things here then, to keep them safe maybe. But they seem forgotten now.” He lifted a shoulder. “Perhaps whoever stored them died, or got angel burn.”

As I let my hand fall from the statue, I saw a small room built against the opposite wall. “What’s in there?”

“Just an office,” said Seb. “There’s a bathroom, too,” he added. “It used to have running water; maybe it still does.”

“Really?” I could hear the relief in my voice. “Can I borrow the candle?”

The black shadows of the bathroom shrank away as I entered with the candle. By some miracle, there
was
still running water, and even a little toilet paper. A few minutes later, I stood washing my face in the tiny sink as I tried to get the worst of the grime and the smeared eye make-up off. Gazing at my candlelit image, for a second all I could think of was that slumber party game, Bloody Mary. A chill prickled over me. I tried to push it away, drying my hands as best I could on the jacket.

When I returned to the sleeping bag, I found Seb examining the file in the glow of the candlelight. I put my candle with the others, then kicked off my sandals and sat next to him, curling my legs under me as I looked down at the Spanish words. The document he was reading seemed to be an email printout.

“Is there anything there?” I asked.

Seb nodded, rubbing his jaw as he turned a page. “Yes, a lot. We’ve got what Alex wanted, and there’s more too – floor plans, information about the reception. Even the code for the stairwell door.” He closed the file and put it to one side. “Your instincts were very good,
querida
.”

I held back a shiver as I remembered the church office – the banging noise that I’d completely disregarded. “So were yours, to get us out of there in time.”

Seb looked down, and I knew he didn’t want to think about the cathedral any more than I did. His hand tightened to a fist, tapping against the sleeping bag. “Willow, I’m sorry,” he said after a moment. “When we met that man in the marketplace—” He broke off; I could sense his turmoil. “I haven’t let anyone get to me like that in so long. I should have just gotten both of us away from there—”

“Seb, no, stop,” I said, touching his arm. “I know how hard it is for you, being back here. I could feel it, every step of the way.”

“It doesn’t matter,” he said shortly. “I should have better control than to almost get in a fight with some
cabrón
who means nothing – especially when I’m taking you through Tepito.”

I shifted on the sleeping bag, watching him. “So...what did he say?”

Seb went silent. One of the candle flames flickered. “He asked if I’d like to share you,” he said finally. “And the way he looked at you...I don’t think I’ve ever wanted to hurt someone so much in my life.”

“I’m glad you didn’t,” I said softly. Not that I’d care if anything had happened to that pile of sleaze, but to Seb... I swallowed. “Anyway, don’t blame yourself – we were both upset. After what happened—”

I stopped, my chest tightening as I saw it all again in gut-wrenching detail. I couldn’t hold it back any longer. A trembling breath that was weirdly like a laugh escaped me. “Oh, god, Seb. They’re supposed to want to
help
people...”

His throat moved; he took me in his arms without speaking. Burying my head against his shoulder, I clung to him and wished I could wipe out everything we’d seen. I knew I’d never be able to, never – even the tiniest details would be with me for ever. The preacher staring at the ceiling with his one eye flashed through my mind, and I wondered dully why I wasn’t crying.

“Most of the Crusaders can’t have known about it,” said Seb roughly. “It had to be a – a smaller group who planned it, working on their own.”

I knew he was probably right; it didn’t help much. “What’s the use of being psychic, if we can’t stop something like that?” My voice sounded distant, as if it was coming from somewhere outside of myself.

“I know,” whispered Seb against my hair. I could feel his pain; it was as helpless as my own. “But that’s not how it works; you know it’s not.”

Inside of me, my angel was straining for his. I let her fly free, and Seb’s angel was there almost immediately – radiant and powerful, his beautiful face etched with our shared sadness.

The light from our ethereal bodies cast a tender glow in the warehouse as we hovered, facing each other. Somehow, just seeing Seb’s angel was a balm; it soothed the very core of me in a way that I didn’t even understand.

His eyes on mine, Seb’s angel reached out his hand. And this time I didn’t hesitate – I stretched out my own angelic hand to him.

Our fingers touched in a burst of light. I caught my breath at the sensation, watching in wonder as our hands merged in a blue-white glow. The details of the cathedral attack mercifully receded, leaving just Seb and me, and this feeling that was like nothing on earth – having no boundaries at all between us; our energy turned into one.

This is way too intimate
, I thought belatedly. But I couldn’t have taken my hand away for anything. Seb’s angel and I gazed at each other in awe; slowly, he stroked his hand up my arm and, without quite knowing how, I found myself doing the same to him – feeling the slight resistance against my fingers as they caressed their way through his energy; the warm shiver in me as he explored my own.

In our human forms below, Seb and I had both gone very still. He pulled away a little as his gaze searched mine, the golden flecks in his hazel eyes clear in the candlelight. I was trembling. I could feel the depth of his love for me; how much he longed to hold me in a way that wasn’t brotherly at all. Somewhere far away where I couldn’t face it was the pain over Alex – but right now there was only Seb, my friend Seb, who I cared about so much that it almost hurt, and whose angel-hands were making me feel things I’d never felt before in my life. In that moment I didn’t know whether I loved him only as a friend or something more – I just knew that I never wanted him to stop touching me, never.

I’m not sure which of us moved first. I saw Seb swallow; one or maybe both of us leaned forward...and then somehow I was running my hands through his loose curls and his lips were on mine, so warm and gentle that I was falling.

Time faded to nothing as our mouths teased each other – tiny, sipping kisses that sent electricity pulsing through me. Seb’s curls were so soft under my fingers, just as soft as I’d always imagined, and I could feel the prickle of stubble near his mouth; the strength of his hand as he lightly cupped it around the back of my neck. He murmured my name, pulling me to him. The kiss slowed, deepening into heat as our mouths opened together, exploring each other. Seb’s arms were locked around me as I pressed tightly against him, stroking his firm back and feeling his heartbeat pounding with mine, and if I could have gotten even closer to him, I would have – and meanwhile our angels were still touching hands above, and there was nothing in the world but this kiss; this kiss that was the most amazing thing I’d ever felt.

The minutes passed. We sank down to the sleeping bag, our mouths still drinking hungrily at each other. Whispering something in Spanish, Seb kissed my neck, then my mouth again, his hand caressing its way up my side...and I wanted it to feel as wonderful as it had at first, but little by little, unease was growing in me. Seb’s lips weren’t the ones I was used to; his body against mine felt different. I shoved the thought away – I refused to think about Alex now; I didn’t want to think about anything; I just wanted to keep losing myself in this warmth, this moment – but then slowly, slowly, the kiss ended.

Seb raised his head, looking down at me.

And it all felt so wrong suddenly that I wanted to cry.

The weight of what I had done came crashing down on me. I sat up shakily as our angels rushed back to us. “Seb, I – oh my god, I’m so sorry—”

He sat up too. His mouth looked bruised where I’d just been kissing it. “Why are you sorry?” But from the expression in his eyes, he knew.