Angel

68

THE DOOMSDAY GROUP posters announced that D-day was near, that when the world ended, the new regime would begin.

Why aren’t crazy people content to take over, like, one town? It always has to be the whole world. They can’t just control maybe twenty people. They have to control everyone. They can’t just be stinking rich. They have to be incomprehensibly stinking rich. They can’t just do genetic experiments on a couple unlucky few. They have to put something in the water. In the air. To get everyone.

I was tired of all of it.

But if their claims were true, this could be the worst thing we’d ever come up against. I couldn’t take the chance. What was really getting to me was that since Angel and Gazzy had left yesterday afternoon, we hadn’t heard from them. All sorts of bad scenarios played out in my brain, but I hoped if they’d been harmed, I would somehow know it, feel it.

“What time does the rally start?” Dylan asked.

“You saw the poster. Noon,” I said, my anxiety making me cranky.

His eyes met mine, and his expression told me that he understood, that he didn’t take it personally. Just then I remembered being with him atop the Arc de Triomphe. Being held, being comforted again wouldn’t be such a bad thing right now…. I looked away, angry at myself for thinking like a weak and weepy damsel.

“We should go there early,” said Nudge, fidgeting in her chair. Despite all the baddies and dangers and disasters we’d faced, this one felt different. We were all on edge.

I nodded. “We’ll head there right after breakfast—and try to volunteer.”

Fang’s gang had its own plan; our part was to get jobs at the rally.

By 10:00 a.m., crowds were gathering at the Place de la Concorde. It was a huge plaza and could hold thousands of people. Somehow the DG had gotten permission to close off the traffic circle around the tall pink-marble obelisk that had been a gift from Egypt nearly two hundred years before.

The DG had plastered the place with flyers, promising a wonderful rally, filled with truth, enlightenment, and new beginnings, all starting at noon.

“Truth, enlightenment, and new beginnings? Try mass destruction of humanity!” Dylan sputtered.

I nodded, continuing to scan the area. I saw nothing ominous—and no signs of Angel or Gazzy. How would D-day come about? A bomb? Death rays? A huge meteor that no one expected? So far I wasn’t getting any clues. I felt tense, with a weird sense of foreboding in the pit of my stomach. Still, this could all turn out to be a huge bust. Maybe the DG had overextended itself?

I could only hope.

We found the main stage, where kids were setting up metal barriers to control the crowd. At least six news vans were unloading equipment, getting ready to film whatever happened.

“Why haven’t we heard from Angel and Gazzy?” I asked under my breath as we waited to speak to someone in charge. “I’m getting nothing from her.”

“I’m sure she’s okay,” Dylan said, putting a hand on my shoulder. I tried not to jump out of my skin. Would I ever get used to him? It really seemed like too much, to have to deal with my feelings about him on top of saving the world.

“Yes?” A smiling teenage girl came to the metal barrier. She looked normal, 100 percent human. Though that didn’t mean anything. “Can I help you?”

“We’d like to volunteer,” I said eagerly. “This is so exciting!”

“It really is,” said the girl. “I feel so honored to be here today serving the One Light.” She gave us another smile. “We’re lucky to have all the help we need right now, so why don’t you grab a good spot and wait for the rally to begin? We’re going to have multiple live feeds to just about every major city in the world—and then a huge fireworks display at the end!”

“I love fireworks!” Nudge said cheerfully.

“It’s going to be beautiful!” The girl’s eyes sparkled. “Mark is going to deliver a really inspiring message.”

“I know!” I tried to sound perky. It was hard. “That’s why we really want to be part of this. We came all the way from the US of A to help! Isn’t there anything we can do?”

“I’m not sure what else there is,” the girl said, smiling helplessly. “I’m sorry.”

“We were thinking that maybe a cool aerial show would help advertise the rally,” I said quickly. “We could show people how special it is to be different—or enhanced.”

Dylan stepped back and quickly extended his wings, fifteen feet of bones, muscle, and raw power. The girl almost fell over backward.

“Oh, yes,” she said in awe. “I think an aerial show is a brilliant idea!”