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Angel, Page 22

L. A. Weatherly

Page 22

 

  He snorted slightly, catching my look. “Don’t worry; I’m not going to do it. I work for the CIA. ” He grimaced. “Or worked, probably. My job was to hunt down and destroy angels. I was told that you’re one. And instead you’re . . . ” He trailed off, his eyebrows lowering. “Like nothing I’ve ever seen before,” he muttered.

  I could hardly speak for a moment. “You’re seriously saying that the CIA ordered you to kill me. And you expect me to believe this. ”

  Alex shook his head impatiently. “No, I’m saying that I got an order to kill something I was told was an angel. I thought the order came from the CIA, but now I know it didn’t, that it came from the angels themselves. Anyway, I followed you, to see what was going on. ”

  I opened my mouth, and then closed it again. Alex might be one of the best-looking guys I’d ever seen, but he was also loony-bin delusional. “This is just . . . completely insane. ”

  He gave me a scornful glance, his dark hair falling across his forehead. “Really? You saw what that thing did to the new members; I was watching you. Angels have been around for centuries, feeding off humans — causing death, insanity, disease. It’s called angel burn. That’s what they do. ”

  The scene in the church flashed back to me: Beth’s energy subsiding into grayness as the angel drained her. Had this really been going on for centuries? My mind reeled; it was too much to take in. Looking away, I rubbed my arms, trying to warm myself. “Uh-huh. And you think that I’m part angel, for some reason. ”

  Alex’s gaze raked over me, his blue-gray eyes startling under dark lashes. “Yeah, let’s see. That same angel that appeared above you outside the church? I saw it hovering over you as you slept this morning. It looks almost exactly like a real angel, only without a halo. Your aura is a mix of angel and human; so’s your energy. ”

  I remembered again the feeling of flight, of lifting up above my body with wings. No, stop. I was not going to think about this. “OK, so there’s an angel that hovers over me while I sleep,” I said, my voice shaking. “And you saw this when you were in my house, working for the CIA, even though you’re, like, my age. Great, yeah, I think I’ve got it now. ”

  The Porsche glided in and out of traffic as Alex changed lanes. “You didn’t answer my question about your parents,” he pointed out coldly. “Do you know both of your birth ones? You don’t, do you? You were raised by a single mother or adopted or something. ”

  I drew my knees up to my chest. “That’s — none of your business. ”

  “Do you ever cause pain when you touch people? How about being psychic?”

  “Cause pain? Of course not! But —” I hesitated as a small cold drop of dread darted down my spine. “But, yes, I’m psychic. How . . . how did you know that?”

  His lip curled, as if he wasn’t surprised. “It’s an angel trait. How did they find out about you, anyway?”

  I definitely hated him now. When I didn’t answer, he shot me a look. “How? It’s important. ”

  I wanted to tell him to bite me, but something in his voice made me answer. I glared at him. “Because . . . I gave Beth a psychic reading. I saw the angel; I saw that it was hurting her. I warned her to stay away from it and she got angry, and then later the angel showed up on my doorstep in its . . . human form, or whatever. It pretended to want a reading, and when I said no, it grabbed my hand . . . ” I stopped, remembering the images that had seethed through me. “And then it left. ” My mouth felt dry as I again saw the flying shards of light outside the church. “What — what happened to it? When you shot it, what —?”

  “I killed it,” said Alex. “OK, so it came and read you. And it saw something that scared it. When was this? Thursday? Late afternoon, early evening?”

  He’d killed it. I couldn’t believe how matter-of-fact he sounded, as if he did this every day. I tried to marshal my thoughts. “Yeah, Thursday. Early evening. How . . . ?”

  “That was when I got the order. ” His jaw clenched; he slapped the steering wheel with his palm. “Damn it. I knew it. They really have taken it over. ”

  I frowned as I watched him. Who had taken what over? Then all at once I realized that we were heading east, away from Pawtucket. “Hey, where are you going? I have to go home!”

  “No way,” he said flatly. “You’d be dead in a day. ”

  I felt my eyes widen as I stared at him. He gave me an irritated glance. “Come on, you saw those people. Do you really think they’re going to just forget about this? They’ve been told that you’re an abomination who’s planning to destroy the angels. Christ, they’ll tear you to pieces if they ever see you again. What about that girl? Does she know where you live?”

  My veins turned to ice. “Mom,” I gasped. “Oh, my God, I have to get home — you’ve got to take me home right now!”

  Alex shook his head. “I’m not taking you home. ”

  “You have to! My mother needs me; she’s sick —”

  His voice turned harsh. “Yeah? Well, the best way for you to put her in danger is to go back there. Do you really want an angry mob turning up at your door if she’s sick? Maybe deciding to go for the abomination’s mother, too, while they’re at it?”

  “Shut up,” I whispered, feeling nauseous at the thought. “I — I can go to the police, or —”

  “They won’t help you. Half of them are Church of Angels. ”

  “OK, well, what do you suggest?” I said, my voice rising. “Are you saying that I’m homeless now? You don’t even know me — just take me home! What do you care what happens to me, anyway?”

  His mouth twisted. “I don’t, except that the angels seem pretty convinced that you’re a danger to them for some reason. So if you think I’m going to let you go get yourself killed, you’re crazy. ”

  “You have nothing to say about it!” I shouted. “What, am I like your captive now? Take me home!” Alex didn’t respond, and I shoved his arm. “Hey! Are you listening to me?”

  He slammed on the brakes, spinning the wheel and swerving to the shoulder of the road. The Porsche rumbled over the gravel and stopped with a lurch. “We don’t have time for this,” he said. Again I had an impression of barely sheathed strength, even just in the way his forearm was draped over the steering wheel. Alex’s eyes locked on to mine, his expression fierce. “Listen carefully; I’ll use small words. If I take you home, you will die. Anyone you care about might also get hurt or die. The only way you can keep them safe is to never go back there. ”

  Goosebumps chilled my arms; I was almost trembling. I wanted to believe that he was lying or crazy, but I couldn’t. Everything about him — his voice, his tone, his vibes — felt like he was telling me the truth.

  “This can’t be happening,” I whispered. “This just can’t be happening. ” That morning when I’d woken up, things had been almost normal. Then I remembered the shiver of dread I’d felt when I kissed Mom earlier, and my throat clenched.