Angelfall (Penryn & the End of Days #1)(18)

“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.