Angelfall

CHAPTER 38

“Touching,” says a clinical voice behind me.

The angel walks toward us with an expression so detached that nothing human can be detected behind it. It's the kind of look a shark might give to a pair of crying girls. “This is the first time one of you has broken in instead of trying to break out.”

Behind him, the delivery guy pushes through the double doors with another load of cadaver drawers. His expression is all human. Surprise, concern, fear.

Before I can answer, the angel jerks his gaze up toward the ceiling and cocks his head. He reminds me of a dog listening to something far away that only dogs can hear.

I hug my sister's scrawny body closer as if I can protect her from all things monstrous. It's all I can do keep my voice working, if not steady. “Why would you do this?” I force out in a whisper.

Behind the angel, the delivery guy shakes his head at me in warning. He looks like he wants to shrink behind his cadaver drawers.

“I don't need to explain anything to a monkey,” says the angel. “Put the specimen back where it was.”

The specimen?

Rage boils through my veins. My heart screams for blood. My hands tremble with the need to squeeze his throat shut.

Amazingly, I rein it in.

I glare at him, dying to do so much more.

The goal is to get my sister out of here, not to get momentary satisfaction. I lift Paige in my arms and stagger toward him.

“We’re leaving.” As soon as the words are out, I know it’s wishful thinking.

He puts down his clipboard and steps between us and the door. “By whose permission?” His voice is low and threatening. Utterly confident.

He suddenly cocks his head again, listening to something I can't hear. A frown mars his smooth skin.

I take two deep breaths, trying to blow the anger and fear out of my body. I gently put Paige down under a table.

Then I launch myself on him.

I hit him with everything I've got. No calculations, no thought, no plan. Just crazed, epic fury.

It isn't much compared to an angel, even one that's a runt. But I have the advantage of surprise.

My blow slams him onto an exam table, and I wonder how his hollow bones don’t break.

I whip out the angel sword from its scabbard. Angels are far stronger than men, but they can be vulnerable on the ground. No angel who is any good at flying would work in the basement where there are no windows for him to fly through. There is a good chance this one can’t take to the air very quickly.

Before the angel can recover from his fall, I thrust my sword at him, aiming for his neck.

Or I try to.

He's faster than I thought. He grabs my wrist and slams it into the table’s edge.

The pain is excruciating. My hand contracts open, letting the sword fly. It clatters across the concrete floor, far from my reach.

He gets up at leisure while I grab a scalpel from a tray. The scalpel feels flimsy and useless. I give my chances of winning, or even injuring him, slim to none.

That just pisses me off all the more.

I throw my scalpel at him. It nicks his throat, causing blood to bubble out and stain his white coat.

I grab a chair and swing it at him before he recovers.

He tosses it aside as if I had thrown a crumpled ball of paper at him.

Almost before I can realize that he’s coming for me, he slams me down on the concrete and starts strangling the life out of me. He’s not just choking my air, he’s cutting off the blood to my brain.

Five seconds. That’s all I’ll have before losing consciousness with no blood flowing to my head.

I shoot my arms up between his like a wedge. Then I slam them out against his forearms.

It should have worked to bust me out of his strangle. It always worked during training.

But there isn’t even a slight easing of his grip. In my panic, I didn’t take into account his super-strength.

In a desperate final attempt, I clench my hands together, fingers interlaced. I draw back and hammer my fists down on the crook of his arm with everything I’ve got.

His elbow jerks back for a moment.

But then it pops right back into place.

Time’s up.

Like an amateur, I instinctively claw at his hands. But they might as well be steel clamped around my throat.

My heart pounds thunderously in my ears, getting ever more frantic. My head feels like it’s floating away.

The angel’s face is cold, indifferent. Dark spots bloom on his face. My heart sinks as I realize my vision is fading.

Blurring.

The edges getting darker.