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Angel Fever, Page 63

L. A. Weatherly

Page 63

 

  Seb snorted, his gaze raking over me. “Did I say you are blind? What you really are is transparente. No, Willow. I am not going to Idaho, no matter who you think I’m in love with. ”

  My hand twisted hard at the sleeping bag. “Seb, please! We don’t know what’s going to happen in Pawntucket, and I need to know you’re safe, at least – that you have a chance to be happy. ”

  “Ah, yes. Because you know what would make me happy. ”

  I was close to tears. “I do! Look, I know you don’t believe me yet, but you can still be with the person you love – and I can never have that again, not ever! Please don’t throw it away! If you come with me, you’ll probably die. ”

  His jaw hardened. “I am coming, Willow. There is nothing you can say to stop me. ”

  “But—”

  Suddenly his voice was low, furious. “Listen to me! This isn’t just about saving your town any more. Something big is going to happen there – for the whole world. Since your psychic powers are so wonderful, do not tell me you don’t sense it. ”

  The moment froze: Seb with his chestnut curls tousled, the shadowy room around us. “Yes,” I admitted finally. “I’ve been feeling it too. For days now. ”

  He gave a hard, cynical smile and flopped back down onto the floor. “So it’s decided, yes? This is my fight too. Trust me, I would be here no matter what I feel for you. ”

  I didn’t bother mentioning Meghan this time. He’d thought it was me for so long – he just couldn’t see it yet.

  Neither of us spoke again. I lay staring into the fire. And thinking about what might lie ahead, I swallowed…and hoped that Seb would have a chance to realize the truth for himself.

  Now, three days later, Seb and I took turns driving through the snow-dusted Adirondacks. I gazed out the windshield as the familiar mountains glided past, trying to ignore the growing certainty that whatever waited ahead would impact on the whole world – but was going to be especially awful for me, personally.

  When I wasn’t worrying about Pawntucket, I was aching for Alex. I felt utterly flattened, lonelier than I’d been in months. I’d thought I was moving on…and now this. As we drove, I reached for my mother, hugging the familiar feel of her close. Then I gently let go, glad for once that she wasn’t actually here.

  By noon we’d reached the foothills north of Pawntucket.

  I stopped the truck, and Seb and I got out. My hometown spread out below us like a picture postcard, so normal-looking that it made my skin prickle. Except that it was totally silent – I could sense only a handful of people.

  Was Nina one? And did she, like the rest of the world, think I was a terrorist? Suddenly I remembered the time we drove down to New York City to see a concert – the way Nina and I had danced in the crowd. The thought of her turning against me made my stomach clench.

  “So, I guess we’d better go check it out,” I said finally. Seb nodded.

  As I opened the car door again, I stiffened, the keys gouging into my palm. It was that same weird sensation I’d felt at the abandoned house – as if I were the centre of the world, with everything straining towards me.

  They all need me, I thought dazedly. And then blinked, wondering what that even meant.

  Before I could ask Seb if he’d felt it too, his eyes narrowed. He stood with one arm on top of the open passenger door, gazing to the south-east. “Angels,” he said.

  When I sensed what he was picking up my breath caught. Angels – thousands of them – about thirty miles away. They were gathering, waiting; so many we could feel it even from this distance.

  I glanced at Seb. “Schenectady’s an Eden now. They must be there. ”

  He threw himself into the truck. “Come – we’d better hurry. ”

  The familiar road was way worse than I remembered, but I went as fast as I could around potholes. Then as the first houses began to appear, I saw that things weren’t so normal in Pawntucket after all. A huge oak tree lay completely uprooted, and houses stood at weird slants, roofs and porches buckling.

  Earthquake damage. I hadn’t realized until now that Pawntucket had had any tremors. I licked my lips, suddenly more apprehensive than ever. “Maybe we should stop and let our angels check things out,” I said.

  “Yes, good,” Seb said shortly – and I knew that no matter how angry he still was, he would die to protect me, as I would do for him. I pulled off the road, and a heartbeat later our angels were flying over Pawntucket.

  In the air I stared down in dismay. Some buildings looked almost normal; others leaned in all directions – walls crushed, front porches falling off. A Victorian house I’d always liked looked as if a giant’s fist had smashed down on it. One whole street had been razed to rubble; more trees lay on their sides, roots exposed.

  Everything was so quiet. Where were the people? Gliding in the cold air, I turned on one wing and headed towards the centre of town with Seb beside me. From the old-fashioned town square, I saw the brick tower of the town hall. At least it looked intact.

  Then as we flew over the square, figures appeared out of nowhere; they ran across the street and darted out of view. I stared after them. Wait, I knew them – knew all of them.

  The bells of the town hall started pealing. “Attack!” shouted a voice.

  But they shouldn’t be able to see us! I thought – and then bullets were slicing past. I jerked backwards, wings flapping; Seb darted in front of me. Seb, no! I thought at him.

  “They don’t have halos!” someone cried in frustration.

  “Don’t let them get away!” yelled someone else.

  Gunfire rained around us. Seb and I went high and started flying quickly back to the truck. The human Seb and I were already hurtling towards the centre of town, as fast as I could drive over the damaged streets. Come on, come on, I thought fervently as our angels sped towards us.

  More people had appeared with guns, and another bullet whined past as we flew. Our angels reached the truck, diving straight through the windshield into our human forms.

  “Maybe we should go the other way now,” Seb said dryly, eyeing the approaching mob.

  I stopped the truck with a lurch. “No!” I gasped. “I know them – and they’re fighting the angels, so they’re on our side. ” I scrambled out before Seb could respond; I heard him swear.

  “Stop! Stop!” I cried as a dozen people thundered towards us. “It’s me – Willow!”

  Scott Mason, former football star of Pawntucket High, was at the front of the pack. He jogged to a halt, holding a rifle. His once-broad form was leaner now, his brown hair longer.

  “Willow?” he repeated, his voice rising in disbelief.

  The group gaped at us. Seb had gotten out too and was holding one of the machine guns, his mouth grim – and I knew he didn’t trust my former classmates not to attack again.

  Because everyone who’d come after us was someone I’d gone to Pawntucket High with. Scott, still wearing his purple and white letterman jacket. A girl with long auburn hair named Rachel – we’d taken freshman biology together. No sign of Nina, though.

  Scott had raised his rifle against his shoulder, pointing it at us. “If you’re really Willow, what the hell was up with those angels?” he snapped.