Angelfall (Penryn & the End of Days #1)(21)

“You look almost human dressed like that,” I say.

Actually, he looks exactly like a gorgeous Olympian champion. It's more than a little disturbing just how much he looks like a supreme example of a human being. I mean, shouldn't an angel that's part of a legion to eradicate humanity look, well, evil and alien?

“So long as you don't bleed in the shape of wing joints, you should pass for human. Oh, and don't let anyone pick you up. They'll know you're not right as soon as they feel how light you are.”

“I'll be sure not to let anyone but you carry me in her arms.” He turns and leaves the kitchen before I can figure out what to make of his comment. A sense of humor is one more thing I don’t think angels should have. The fact that his sense of humor is corny makes it even more wrong.

~

It's noon by the time we leave the big house. We're in a little cul-de-sac off Page Mill Road. The road is dark and slick with last night’s downpour. The sky is heavy with broken gray clouds, but if we're lucky, we should be in the hills under a warm roof by the time the rains start again.

Our packs sit on Paige’s chair, and if I close my eyes, I can almost pretend it’s her I’m pushing. I catch myself humming what I thought was a meaningless tune. I stop when I realize it’s my mother’s apology song.

I put one foot in front of the other, trying to ignore the too-light weight of the wheelchair and the wingless angel beside me.

There are a lot of cars strewn on the road until we hit the freeway entrance. Here, there are only a couple of cars pointed up the hill. Everyone tried to get on the freeway to get away in the early days. I’m not sure where they were going. I guess they weren’t either since the freeway is clogged in both directions.

It’s not long before we see the first body.





CHAPTER 12



A family lying in a pool of blood.

A man, a woman, a girl about ten years old. The child is at the edge of the woods while the adults are in the middle of the road. Either the kid ran for it when the parents were attacked, or she hid during the attack and was caught when she came out.

They haven’t been dead for long. I know because the blood on their tattered clothes is still bright red. I have to swallow and fight to keep the cat food in my stomach.

Their heads are intact. Thankfully, the girl's hair has been blown over her face. Their bodies, though, are in bad shape. For one thing, parts of their torso have been chewed down to the bones with bits of flesh still stuck to it. For another, a few arms and legs are missing. I don't have the guts to take a closer look but Raffe does.

“Teeth marks,” he says as he kneels on the asphalt in front of the man’s body.

“What kind of animal are we talking about?”

He sits crouched near the bodies, considering my question. “The kind with two legs and flat teeth.”

My stomach roils. “What are you saying? That they’re human?”

“Maybe. Unusually sharp, but human-shaped.”

“Can’t be.” But I know it can. Humans will do what is needed to survive. Still, it doesn’t add up. “This is too wasteful. If you’re desperate enough to cannibalize, you wouldn’t just take a few bites and leave.” But these bodies have more than a few bites taken out of them. Now that I make myself really look, I can see they are half eaten. Still, why leave half behind?

Raffe peers at the place where the kid's leg should be. “The limbs have been ripped right out of their sockets.”

“Enough,” I say as I take two steps back. I scan our surroundings. We’re in an open field, and I feel as nervous as a field mouse looking at a sky full of hawks.

“Well,” he says as he gets up, scanning the trees. “Let's hope whoever did this is still in control of this area.”

“Why?”

“Because they won't be hungry.”

That doesn’t make me feel better. “You're pretty sick, you know that?”

“Me? It isn't my people who did this.”

“How do you know? You have the same teeth we do.”

“But my people aren’t desperate.” He says this as if the angels had nothing to do with us being desperate. “Nor are they insane.”

That's when I see the broken egg.

It lies on the side of the road near the kid, the yolk brown and the egg white congealed. The stench of sulfur hits my nose. It's the familiar reek that infused my clothes, pillow and hair for the last two years throughout Mom’s rotten egg kick. Beside it, there is a small bouquet of wild sprigs. Rosemary and sage. Either my mother thought they were pretty, or her insanity has taken on a very dark sense of humor.

It doesn't mean anything other than she was here. That's all. She couldn't take on an entire family.

But she could overtake a ten-year-old coming back from her hiding place after her parents were killed.

She was here and walked by the bodies, just as we are doing. That's all.

Really, that's all.

“Penryn?”

I realize Raffe's been talking to me.

“What?”

“Could they be kids?”

“Could what be kids?”

“The attackers,” he says slowly. Obviously, I’ve missed a piece of the conversation. “As I’ve said, the bite marks seem too small to be adults.”