Angelfall

CHAPTER 10

Silicon Valley is about half an hour by car from the forest in the hills. It’s also about 45 minutes away from San Francisco if you’re driving on the freeway. I figure the roads will be clogged with deserted cars and desperate people. So we head for the hills where there are fewer people and more places to hide.

Until a few weeks ago, rich people lived along the lower hills. They either lived in three bedroom ranch houses that cost a couple of million dollars, or in fairytale mansions that cost ten million dollars. We stay away from those, my logic being that they probably attract the wrong kind of visitors. Instead, we pick out a little guest house behind one of the estates. A not-too-fancy kind of guest house that won’t attract any attention.

The angel just follows me without comment, and that works fine for me. He hasn’t said much since we left the office building. It’s been a long night, and he can barely stand by the time we reach the cottage. We make it to the house just before the storm hits.

It’s strange. In some ways, he’s shockingly strong. He’s been beaten, mutilated and bleeding for days, yet he can still fight off several men at a time. He never seems to get cold despite being shirtless and jacketless. But the walking seems hard on him.

When we finally sit in the cabin as the rain starts, he eases off his boots. His feet are blistered and raw. They’re pink and vulnerable as though they haven’t been used much. Maybe they haven’t. If I had wings, I’d probably spend most of my time flying too.

I dig through my pack and find the small first aid kit. In it, there are some blister packs. They’re like adhesive bandages but bigger and tougher. I hand the packages to the angel. He opens one up and stares at it like he’s never seen one before.

He first looks at the skin colored side, which is a shade too light for him, then at the padded side, then back at the skin colored side again. He puts it up to his eye like a pirate’s eye patch and makes a grimace.

My lips crack into a quarter smile even though it’s hard for me to believe I can still smile. I grab it out of his hand. “Here, I’ll show you how to use it. Let me see your foot.”

“That’s a pretty intimate demand in the angel world. It usually takes dinner, some wine, and sparkling conversation for me to give up my feet.”

That calls for a witty comeback.

“Whatever,” I say.

Okay, so I won’t be getting the Witty Woman of the Year Award. “Do you want me to show you how to use this or not?” I sound surly. It’s the best I can do right now.

He sticks out his feet. Angry red spots scream for attention on his heel and big toes. One foot has a burst blister on the heel.

I look at my meager supply of blister packs. I’ll have to use them all on his feet and hope that my own will hold out. The small voice pipes up again as I gently place the adhesive around his burst blister: He won’t be with you for more than a couple of days. Why waste precious supplies on him?

He pulls a glass splinter out of his shoulder. He’s been doing that the whole time we’ve been walking, but he keeps finding more. If he hadn’t stepped in front of me when he broke through the window, I’d be peppered with glass shards too. I’m almost sure he didn’t protect me on purpose, but I can’t help but be grateful that he did.

I carefully soak up pus and blood with a sterile pad, even though I know that if he is going to get an infection, it would come from the deep wounds on his back, not from a few blisters on his feet. The thought of his lost wings make my hands more gentle than they would be otherwise.

“What’s your name?” I ask.

I don’t need to know. In fact, I don’t want to know. Giving him a name makes it sound like we’re somehow on the same side, which we can never be. It’s like acknowledging that we could become friends. But that’s not possible. It’s pointless to make friends with your executioner.

“Raffe.”

I only asked him his name to distract him from thinking about having to use his feet instead of his wings. But now that I know his name, it feels right. “Rah-fie,” I repeat slowly. “I like the sound of that.”

His eyes soften as though he smiles even though his expression doesn’t change from his stony look. For some reason, it makes my face heat up.

I clear my throat to break the tension. “Raffe sounds like Raw Feet. Coincidence?” That gets a smile out of him. When he smiles, he really does look like someone you’d want to get to know. Some otherworldly handsome guy a girl could dream about.

Only he’s not a guy. And he’s too otherworldly. Not to mention that this girl is beyond dreaming about anything other than food, shelter, and the safety of her family.

I rub my finger firmly around the adhesive to make sure it won’t fall off. He inhales sharply and I can’t tell if it’s from pain or pleasure. I’m careful to keep my eyes down on my task.

“So, aren’t you going to ask me my name?” I could kick myself. That sounds just like me flirting. But I’m not, of course. I couldn’t be. At least I’d managed to keep the tone from being giggly.

“I already know your name.” Then he mimics my mother’s voice perfectly. “Penryn Young, you open this door right now!”

“That’s pretty good. You sound just like her.”

“You must have heard the old adage that there’s power in knowing someone’s true name.”

“Is it true?”

“It can be. Especially between species.”

“Then why did you just tell me yours?”

He leans back and gives me a bad boy, devil-may-care shrug.

“So what do they call you if they don’t know your name?”

There’s a brief pause before he answers. “The Wrath of God.”

I take my hand off his foot in a slow controlled motion to keep it from shaking. I realize then that if someone could see us, it might look like I am paying him homage. He sits in a chair while I kneel at his feet with my eyes downcast. I quickly stand up so that I am looking down at him. I take a deep breath, square my shoulders, and look him straight in the eyes.

“I am not afraid of you, your kind, or your god.”

There’s a part of me that cringes at the lightning strike that I am sure will come. But it doesn’t. There isn’t even dramatic thunder outside in the storm. It doesn’t make me feel any less afraid though. I am an ant in the battlefield of the gods. There’s no room for pride or ego, and barely enough room for survival. But I can’t help myself. Who do they think they are? We may be ants, but this field is our home, and we have every right to live in it.

His expression changes just a fraction before he shutters it in his godlike way. I’m not sure what it means, but I do know that my insane statement has some kind of an effect on him, even if it’s just amusement.

“I don’t doubt it, Penryn.” He says my name as though he is tasting something new, rolling it over his tongue to see how he likes it. There’s an intimacy in the way he says it that makes me want to squirm.

I toss the remaining blister packets onto his lap. “Now you know how to use them. Welcome to my world.”

I turn around, showing him my back, emphasizing my lack of fear. At least, that’s what I tell myself. It’s also convenient that by turning my back on him, I can let my hands shake a little as I dig through my pack for something to eat.

“Why are you guys here, anyway?” I ask as I rummage for food. “I mean, it’s obvious that you’re not here for a friendly chat, but why do you want to get rid of us? What did we do to deserve extermination?”

He shrugs. “Beats me.”

I stare at him, open-mouthed.

“Hey, I don’t call the shots,” he says. “If I was good at marketing, I’d spin you an empty story that sounds profound. But the truth is that we’re all just stumbling around in the dark. Sometimes we hit something terrible.”

“That’s it? It can’t be as random as that.” I don’t know what I want to hear, but that’s not it.

“It’s always as random as that.”

He sounds more like a seasoned soldier than any angel I’ve ever heard of. One thing’s for sure—I’m not going to get a lot of answers out of him.

Dinner is instant noodles and a couple of energy bars. We also have bite-sized chocolates plundered from the office for dessert. I wish we could light up the fireplace but the smoke from the chimney would be a sure sign that the cottage is occupied. Same for the lights. I have a couple of flashlights in my bag, but remembering that it was my mother’s flashlight that probably attracted the gang, we crunch our dried noodles and oversweetened energy bars in the dark.

He scarfs down his portion so fast that I can’t help but stare. I don’t know when he last ate, but he certainly hasn’t eaten in the two days I’ve known him. I’m also guessing that his super-healing consumes a lot of calories too. We don’t have much, but I offer him half my share. If he had been awake the last couple of days, I’d have had to feed him a lot more than this.

My hand stays out with the offered food long enough to make the moment awkward. “Don’t you want it?” I ask.

“That depends on why you’re giving it to me.”

I shrug. “Sometimes, as we’re stumbling along in the dark, we hit something good.”

He watches me for another moment before taking the offered food.

“Don’t think you’re getting my share of the chocolate, though.” I know I should conserve the chocolate, but I can’t help eating more than I’d planned. The waxy texture and burst of sweetness in my mouth brings comfort that’s too rare to pass up. I won’t let us eat more than half my stash, though. I stuff the rest way down in the bottom of my pack so I won’t be tempted.

My longing for the candy must show on my face because the angel asks, “Why don’t you just eat it? We can eat something else tomorrow.”

“It’s for Paige.” I zip up my pack with finality, ignoring his thoughtful look.

I wonder where my mother is now. I’d always suspected that she is more clever than my father, even though he is the one with the masters degree in engineering. But all her animal cleverness won’t help her when her crazy instincts are demanding her attention. Some of the worst times in my life have been because of her. But I can’t help but hope that she’s found a dry place out of the rain, and has managed to find something to eat for dinner.

I dig through my pack and find the last styrofoam cup of dried noodle. I walk to the door and leave it outside.

“What are you doing?”

I think about explaining to him about my mother but decide against it. “Nothing.”

“Why would you leave food outside in the rain?”

How did he know it was food? It’s too dark for him to see the cup of noodles.

“How well can you see in the dark?”

There’s a brief pause as though he’s considering denying that he can see in the dark. “Almost as well as I can see in the day.”

I squirrel away the intel. This little piece of information may have just saved my life. Who knows what I would have done once I found the other angels? I may have tried to hide in the dark as I snuck into their nest. That would have been a nasty time to find out just how well angels can see in the dark.

“So, why would you leave valuable food outside?”

“In case my mother is out there.”

“Wouldn’t she just come in?”

“Maybe. Maybe not.”

He nods as if he understands, which, of course, he couldn’t. Maybe to him, all humans behave as though they are crazy. “Why don’t you bring the food in, and I’ll tell you if she’s nearby.”

“And how would you know if she’s nearby?”

“I’ll hear her,” he says. “Assuming the rain doesn’t get too loud.”

“How good is your hearing?”

“What?”

“Ha ha,” I say dryly. “Knowing this stuff could make a big difference in my chances of rescuing my sister.”

“You don’t even know where she is, or if she’s alive.” He says this matter-of-factly, as if he’s talking about the weather.

“But I know where you are, and I know you’ll be headed back to the other angels, even if it’s only to get revenge.”

“Ah, is that how it is? Since you couldn’t get the information out of me when I was weak and helpless, your big plan now is to follow me back to the nest of vipers to rescue your sister? You know that’s about as well-thought out as your plan to scare off those men by pretending to be an angel.”

“A girl’s gotta improvise as the situation changes.”

“The situation has changed beyond your control. You’ll only get yourself killed if you follow this path, so take my advice and run the other way.”

“You don’t understand. This isn’t about making logical, optimal decisions. It’s not like I have a choice. Paige is just a helpless little girl. She’s my sister. The only thing up for discussion is how I’ll rescue her, not whether or not I’ll try.”

He leans back to give me an appraising look. “I wonder which will get you killed faster—your loyalty or your stubbornness?”

“Neither, if you’ll help me.”

“And why would I do that?”

“I saved your life. Twice. You owe me. In some cultures, you’d be my slave for life.”

It’s hard to see his expression in the dark, but his voice sounds both skeptical and wry. “Granted, you did drag me out of the street while I was injured. And normally, that may qualify as saving my life, but since your intent was to kidnap me for interrogation, I don’t think that qualifies. And if you’re referring to your botched ‘rescue’ attempt during my fight with those men, I’d have to remind you that if you hadn’t slammed my back into giant nails sticking out of the wall, then chained me to a cart, I’d never have been in that position in the first place.” He chuckles. “I can’t believe those idiots almost bought that you were an angel.”

“They didn’t.”

“Only because you screwed up. I almost burst out laughing when I saw you.”

“It would have been pretty funny if our lives hadn’t been at stake.”

His voice gets sober. “So you know you could have been killed?”

“So could you.”

The wind whispers outside, rustling the leaves. I open the door and retrieve the cup of noodles. I might as well believe that he’ll hear my mother if she comes around. It’s better if we don’t risk someone else seeing the food and coming into the cabin.

I pull out a sweatshirt from my pack and put it on over the one I’m wearing. The temperature is dropping fast. Then I finally ask the question to which I dread the answer. “What do they want with the kids?”

“There’s been more than one taken?”

“I’ve seen the street gangs take them. I figured they wouldn’t want Paige because of her legs. But now, I wonder if they’re selling them to the angels.”

“I don’t know what they’re doing with the kids. Your sister is the first one I’ve heard of.” His quiet voice chills me.

The rain pounds on the windows and the wind scrapes a branch on the glass.

“Why were the other angels attacking you?”

“It’s impolite to ask the victim of violence what they did to be attacked.”

“You know what I mean.”

He shrugs in the dim light. “Angels are violent creatures.”

“So I noticed. I used to think they were all sweet and kind.”

“Why would you think that? Even in your Bible, we’re harbingers of doom, willing and able to destroy entire cities. Just because we sometimes warned one or two of you beforehand doesn’t make us altruistic.”

I have more questions, but I need to settle one thing first. “You need me.”

He barks a laugh. “How so?”

“You need to get back to your buddies to see if you can get your wings sewn back on. I saw it in your face when I mentioned it back at the office. You think it might be possible. But to get there, you have to walk. You’ve never traveled on the ground before, have you? You need a guide; someone who can find food and water, safe shelter.”

“You call this food?” The moonlight shows him tossing the empty styrofoam cup into a trash can. It’s too dark to see it land in the can across the room, but by the sound of things, it’s a three-pointer.

“See? You would have passed that by. We have all kinds of stuff that you’d never guess was food. Besides, you need someone who’ll take the suspicion off you. No one would suspect you as an angel if you’re traveling with a human. Take me with you. I’ll help you get home if you’ll help me find my sister.”

“So you want me to lead a Trojan Horse to the aerie?”

“Hardly. I’m not out to save the world, just my sister. That’s more than enough responsibility for me. Besides, what are you worried about? Little ol’ me being a threat to angelkind?”

“What if she’s not there?”

I have to swallow the dry lump in my throat before I can answer. “Then I’ll no longer be your problem.”

The darker shadow of his form curls up on the couch. “Let’s get some sleep while it’s still dark out.”

“That’s not a no, right?”

“It’s not a yes, either. Now let me sleep.”

“And that’s another thing, it’s easier to keep a watch at night when there are two of us.”

“But it’s easier to sleep when there’s just one.” He grabs a sofa pillow and puts it over his ear. He shifts once more, then settles in, his breathing turning heavy and regular as though already asleep.

I sigh and walk back to the bedroom. The air gets colder as I near the room, and I have second thoughts about sleeping in there.

As soon as I open the door, I see why it’s so cold in the cottage. The window is broken and sheets of rain blow onto the bed. I’m so tired I could just sleep on the floor. I grab a folded blanket off the dresser. It’s cold but dry. I close the bedroom door to keep the wind out and pad back into the living room. I lie down on the sofa across from the angel, wrapping myself in the blanket.

He seems to be comfortably asleep. He’s still shirtless, as he has been since the first time I saw him. The bandages must provide a little warmth but not much. I wonder if he gets cold? It must be freezing when flying high up in the sky. Maybe angels are adapted to cold temperatures, just as they’re light for flight.

But this is all a guess, and probably just a justification to make me feel better about taking the only blanket in the cottage. The power is out tonight, which means the heat is out. It rarely freezes in the bay area, but it does get pretty cold at night sometimes. This seems to be one of those times.

I fall asleep listening to the rhythm of his steady breathing and the drumming of the rain on the windows.

~

I dream that I am swimming in the Antarctic, surrounded by broken icebergs. The glacial towers are majestic and deadly beautiful.

I hear Paige calling for me. She’s floundering in the water, coughing, barely keeping herself afloat. Having only her arms to paddle with, I know she can’t tread water for long. I swim toward her, desperate to reach her, but the gut-freezing cold slows my motions, and I waste almost all my energy shivering. Paige calls to me. She’s too far for me to see her face, but I can hear tears in her voice.

“I’m coming!” I try to call to her. “It’s okay, I’ll be there soon.” But my voice comes out in a hoarse whisper hardly reaching my own ears. Frustration cracks through my chest. I can’t even comfort her with reassurances.

Then I hear a motorboat. It cuts through the floating ice chunks as it charges toward me. My mother is on the boat, driving it. With her free hand, she throws precious survival gear overboard, splashing it into the icy water. Cans of soup and beans, life vests and blankets, even shoes and blister packs go over the side of the boat, sinking among the bobbing ice.

“You really should eat your eggs, dear,” says my mother.

The boat heads straight for me and is not slowing down. If anything, it’s speeding up. If I don’t get out of the way, she’ll run me over.

Paige calls out for me in the distance.

“I’m coming.” I call out but only a croaked whisper comes out of my mouth. I try to swim toward her but my muscles are so cold that all I can do is flail. Flail and shiver in the path of my mother’s boat.

“Hush. Shhh.” A soothing voice whispers in my ear.

I feel the sofa cushions being pulled out from against my back. Then warmth envelopes me. Firm muscles embrace me from the space where the cushions used to be. I’m groggily aware of masculine arms wrapping themselves around me, their skin soft as a feather, their muscles steel velvet. Chasing away the ice in my veins and the nightmare.

“Shhh.” A husky whisper in my ear.

I relax into the cocoon of warmth and let the sound of the rain on the roof lull me back to sleep.

~

The warmth is gone, but I’m no longer shivering. I curl up on my own, trying to savor the heat left in the cushions by a body that is no longer there.

When I open my eyes, the morning light makes me wish I hadn’t. Raffe lies on his sofa, watching me with those dark blue eyes. I swallow, suddenly feeling awkward and unkempt. Great. The world has come to an end, my mother is out there with the street gangs, crazier than ever, my sister has been kidnapped by vengeful angels, and I'm concerned that my hair is greasy and my breath smells bad.

I get up abruptly, tossing aside my blanket with more force than is necessary. I grab my toiletries and head for one of the two bathrooms.

“Good morning to you too,” he says in a lazy drawl. I have my hand on the bathroom door when he says, “In case you’re wondering, the answer is yes.”

I pause, afraid to look back. “Yes?” Yes, it was him holding me through the night? Yes, he knows I liked it?

“Yes, you can come with me,” he says as though he already regrets it. “I’ll take you to the aerie.”