Angelfall (Penryn & the End of Days #1)(34)

“So everyone knew this rule but me? That no one is allowed to interfere?” Had Raffe known it? Not that it should have stopped him.

“People can jump in if they want, but that invites someone else to jump in for the other side to keep it a fair fight. The betters wouldn’t like it if it suddenly turned one-sided.” So much for making excuses for Raffe. He could have jumped in, we just would have had to fight someone else too. Nothing we haven’t done before.

“Sorry no one explained the rules of the playground to you.” He bandages my bleeding elbow. “It’s just that we haven’t had a female get into a fight before.” He shrugs. “We just didn’t expect it.”

“I guess this means you lost your bet.”

He grins sourly. “I only make big bets that involve lives and the future of humanity.” His shoulders slump as though the invisible weight on them is too much. “Speaking of which, you handled yourself well out there. Better than anyone expected. We could really use someone like you. There are situations that a girl like you could handle better than a platoon of men.” His grin turns boyish. “Assuming you don’t clock an angel for pissing you off.”

“That’s a big assumption.”

“We can work on that.” He gets up. “Think about it.”

“Actually, I was trying to get to you when that gorilla got in my way. The angels have taken my sister. You need to let me go so I can find her. I swear I won’t tell anybody about you, your location, anything. Just please, let me go.”

“I’m sorry about your sister, but I can’t jeopardize everyone here based on your word. Join us, and we’ll help you get her back.”

“It’ll be too late by the time you can mobilize your men. She’s seven years old and wheelchair-bound.” I can barely get the words out through the lump in my throat. I can’t actually say what we both know, that it might already be too late.

He shakes his head, looking genuinely sympathetic. “I’m sorry. Everyone here has had to bury someone they love. Join us and we’ll make those bastards pay.”

“I don’t intend to bury her. She’s not dead.” I grind out the words. “I’m going to find her and get her out.”

“Of course. I didn’t mean to imply that she was.” He had, and we both know it. But I pretend to believe his pretty words. As I’ve heard other people’s mothers tell their daughters, politeness is its own reward. “We’ll be moving soon, and you can go then if you still want to leave us. I hope you won’t.”

“When is soon?”

“I can’t disclose that information. All I can say is that we have something major in the works. You should be a part of it. For your sister, for humanity, for all of us.”

He’s good. I feel like standing up and saluting him while humming the national anthem. But I don’t think he’d appreciate that.

I am, of course, rooting for the humans. But I already have more responsibilities than I can handle. I just want be an ordinary girl living an ordinary life. My biggest concern in life should be what dress to wear to the prom, not how to escape a paramilitary camp to rescue my sister from cruel angels, and certainly not joining a resistance army to beat back an invasion to save humanity. I know my limits and that goes way beyond them.

So I just nod. He can make of that what he will. I hadn’t really expected him to let me go, but I had to try.

As soon as he walks out the door, the lunch crowd shuffles back in. It must be understood, either implicitly or explicitly, that when Obi talks to one of the fighters, everyone gives them privacy. Interesting that he took me to the mess hall during lunch, making everyone wait until we were finished. He sent a clear message to everyone in the camp that I am someone he has noticed.

I get up to leave with my chin up. I avoid looking into any faces so I won’t have to talk to anyone. I walk with my bag of peas down so as to not bring attention to my injuries. As if people are likely to forget I’m the one who was fighting. If Raffe is in the lunch crowd, I don’t see him. Just as well. I hope he lost his argument with the bookie. He deserves to lose that bet.

I’m barely out and walking between the buildings on my way to the laundry area when two redheaded guys step out from behind the building. If they didn’t have matching boy-next-door smiles, I would have thought they were ambushing me.

They’re identical twins. Both look scrappy and strung-out in their dirty civilian clothes, but that’s not unusual these days. No doubt I look just as scrappy and strung-out, too. They’re barely out of their teens, tall and skinny with mischievous eyes.

“Great job out there, champ,” says the first guy.

“Oh, man, you really put old Jimmy Boden in his place,” says the second one. He’s practically beaming. “Couldn’t have happened to a better man.”

I stand there, nodding. I keep a polite grin on my face while still holding the frozen peas to my jaw.

“I’m Tweedledee,” says one.

“I’m Tweedledum,” says the other. “Most people call us Dee-Dum for short since they can’t tell us apart.”

“You’re joking, right?” They shake their heads in unison with identical friendly smiles. They look more like a couple of underfed scarecrows than the chubby Tweedledee and Tweedledum I remember from childhood. “Why would you call yourselves that?”