Angel Fever, Page 60

Page 60

 

  It was full-out raining now, pattering down on Alex’s head and jacket. Looking at the city, he saw how dark and shadowy it had become and made a sudden decision. “I’ve got to go now,” he said, standing up.

  Miranda blinked. “Go?”

  “Yeah – back to my own world, so I can tell Willow about this. If she tries it, then you’ll help her, right?”

  Miranda frowned; her next words rocked him. “Of course, but…do you really know how to get back? I thought Raziel was the only one who knew that, now that he’s destroyed all the gates. ”

  The rain beat down, bouncing manically off the cobblestones; the clouds had blackened so that it was almost as dark as night. Having shifted his aura to angelic silver, Alex kept to the shadows as he made his way to the Coliseum, gritting his teeth as his injured foot struggled with the cobblestones.

  At ground level this Denver looked a lot less like the city he knew. There were no traffic lights – no sidewalks or signs. Abstract sculptures rose from strange places: the middle of the street or sprouting from the sides of buildings.

  Miranda walked beside him, exactly Willow’s height: the top of her head reached just past his chin. “Please don’t tell Raziel I’m helping you get home,” she said again, her voice anxious. “He’s the only one who’s supposed to know about the gate – he might be angry if he found out I followed him. ”

  “Don’t worry, I won’t tell him,” Alex muttered. A block down, he’d just spotted a group of angels in their human forms. He kept walking, minimizing his limp. He’d hidden the rifle under his clothes, but just his backpack was probably conspicuous enough.

  The angels disappeared around a corner; Alex relaxed slightly. “Raziel and I aren’t exactly friends,” he clarified.

  From what Miranda had said, Alex doubted Raziel had many friends here either. Doing another scan, he sensed again that the angels were sticking fearfully together – and now their seething, hopeless anger also came through.

  No, not many friends at all.

  At last the Coliseum’s curved white exterior came into view. The pale wall gleaming through the rain was the most beautiful thing Alex had ever seen. He’d made it – after three weeks, he’d finally made it.

  “It’s inside,” Miranda said, gazing at the building with apprehension.

  The downpour intensified, falling in solid sheets. Alex jogged across the slick cobblestones towards the Coliseum, pain lashing him with every step.

  Miranda kept pace with no visible effort. “Can you tell me what Willow’s like?” she asked hesitantly. “I mean, I know what she was like as a child, but…”

  Alex panted out a response. “She’s the most amazing…beautiful girl in the world. Kind…smart – everything. You couldn’t ask for a better daughter, not ever. ”

  Suddenly his senses tingled in alarm. Alex veered sharply left, but it was too late: an angel, also running, had emerged from a side street. They collided with a solid thump and the squelch of wet clothes.

  “Oh, beg your pardon—” started the angel, and then he stared into Alex’s streaming face. “Wait, I don’t know you. You’re not an—”

  As the angel broke off, gaping, Alex was already running again, pounding the cobblestones as fast as he could – there was no way he could fake his way out of this one, none.

  The Coliseum grew steadily closer, but crippling pain slowed him down. Miranda had vanished. Footfalls sped after him – more than one pair, gaining on him. Shit. Alex unstrapped his rifle from under his jacket and whirled to face them, standing his ground.

  The angel had been joined by at least ten others. They stopped a few feet away, out of breath, their faces hard. “You’re human,” said the first one. Black hair, dark eyes. “How did you get into our world? How?”

  “I don’t know – it was a mistake. ” The rifle was propped and ready on Alex’s shoulder.

  “Why don’t I believe you?” spat the angel as he stepped forward, rain streaming down his hair. “You know a way in, so you know a way out. How? We’re dying here. ”

  Alex backed away a step, still holding the rifle on them. “Yeah, so you want to come to my world and make sure humans die instead. Not a chance. ” He wasn’t without sympathy for the angels – trapping them here had been pretty cold-blooded, even for Raziel – but his sympathy stopped short of letting them join the soul-suckers in his own dimension.

  The angels moved towards him with no warning: half of them lunged forward in their human forms; the others shifted to their angelic selves and swooped fiercely at him. Two went high, ready to dive; Alex aimed at the lead one – large and ghostly in the rain – centred on its halo, and shot, then got the second angel just as the human ones tackled him.

  Pieces of light fell like confetti as Alex went crashing down. His rifle hit the ground with a clatter as someone wrenched it away from him. “Tell us!” hissed the dark-haired angel, cracking Alex’s head against the cobblestones. “Talk!”

  The pain spurred him on. He jackknifed upwards and swung hard, connecting with the angel’s damp cheekbone. His head got slammed into the cobblestones again in response; someone else kicked his ribs. Alex threw punches wildly, not caring what he hit: blood spurting, the crunch of cartilage as he flattened an angel’s nose. He knew he was outnumbered but didn’t care; he was not giving up now, not when he was so close to getting home—

  In a blur, Alex saw an angel standing on the fringe, staring at the drifting fragments of light. It let out a sudden wail of agony. “He’s killed Ganziel and Larmont! We didn’t even feel it!”

  The news seemed to sap all will from the angels.

  The dark-haired one on Alex’s chest went still, gazing upwards in horror. The remainder who’d been in angelic form had reverted to human again. They stood shuddering as a group and regarded Alex with wide, frightened eyes.

  For the first time ever, Alex felt a fleeting urge to apologize for shooting an angel. He didn’t give in to it. He heaved the dark-haired angel off him, then scrambled to his feet and ran.

  The rain was still pelting down. Alex ducked down a side street adjacent to the Coliseum, then another one and another – desperate to lose the angels before they figured out where he was going. Though he scanned continuously, he could sense no sign of them. Had they given up?

  No way in hell, he thought grimly. They’ve just gone to get all the others.

  Finally Alex doubled back. Breathing hard, he pressed flat against a building and peered around it at the Coliseum’s high white walls.

  A side entrance lay directly across the street. Alex glanced the other way, hating how open this area was. At least the Coliseum seemed empty – he had a feeling the place hadn’t been used in a while.

  “You’re hurt,” Miranda said with concern, suddenly appearing next to him. “Your head’s bleeding…” She reached out to touch it; her fingers tingled lightly against his scalp.

  He let out a breath, deeply glad to see her again: this wraith who was somehow all that was left of Willow’s mother’s mind. “I’m fine – I’m going to make a run for it. You can still show me how to get through, right?”