Angelfall (Penryn & the End of Days #1)(51)
She probably thinks she’s trapped in a cage in hell surrounded by monsters. Maybe as payment for a deal made with the devil. Maybe just because the world conspires against her. She probably thinks the people who get close to the fence are actually monsters in disguise stalking her cage. Someone has miraculously given her a weapon to keep those monsters at bay. So she’s using this rare chance to fight back.
“How did she end up here?” I wonder out loud.
Dirt smears her cheeks and greasy hair, and her clothes are ripped at the elbow and knees. She looks like she’s been sleeping on the ground. But she does look healthy and fed, with rosy coloring in her cheeks.
“Everyone on the road ends up here if they don’t get themselves killed first.”
“How?”
“Beats me. You humans have always had some kind of herding instinct that seems to bring you together. And this is the largest herd around.”
“Town. Not herd. Towns are for people. Herds are for animals.”
He snorts rudely in response.
It probably is better to leave her there instead of trying to take her with me inside the aerie. It’s hard to be stealthy with my mother around. That could cost us Paige’s life. There’s not much I can do to ease her torment when she’s like this. The people will eventually learn to stay away from her while she patrols the fence. She’s safer here. We’re all safer with her here. For now.
My justifications don’t ease my guilt about leaving her. But I can’t think of a better solution.
I tear my gaze away from my mother and try to focus on my surroundings. I can’t be distracted if we’re all to stay alive.
In front of me, the crowd starts to show a pattern. Women and teen girls, all dressed and made up to the best of their resources, press up against the people in front of them, hoping to get the attention of the guards. Many of the girls are surrounded by people who look like parents or grandparents. The women often stand beside their men, sometimes with children.
The guards shake their heads at virtually everyone who requests entry. Occasionally, a woman, or a group of women refuse to move out of the way after they’ve been turned down, choosing, instead, to beg or break down crying. The angels seem not to care one way or another, but the crowd cares. The mob shoves the offending rejects into itself, mindlessly pushing them back with their shifting and shoving bodies, until the losers are ejected out at the rear of the crowd.
Occasionally, the guards let one through. From what I can tell, the ones let through are always female. While we inch up to the gate, two are admitted.
Both are women dressed in tight dresses and high heels, like me. One of them enters without a backward glance, clicking confidently away down the empty road on the other side of the gate. The other goes hesitantly, turning around to throw kisses at a man and two grubby children gripping the chain link of the fence. They scurry away from the fence when a man with a cattle prod approaches them.
When these women are let through, a group at the edge of the crowd exchanges goods. It takes me a minute to understand that they’re taking bets on who gets in. A bookie points to several women near the guards, then accepts items from the people around him. The bettors are mostly men, but there are women in the group too. Each time a woman is let through, one of the bettors walks away with an armful of goods.
I want to ask what’s going on, why humans want to go into angel territory and why these people camp out here. But I would only prove Raffe right about acting like a little girl asking too many questions. So I tamp down the flood of questions and ask the one that’s operationally relevant.
“What if they don’t let us go through?” I ask, trying not to move my lips.
“They will,” he answers from the dark recesses of the backseat footwell.
“How do you know?”
“Because you have the look they’re looking for.”
“What look is that?”
“Beautiful.” His voice is like a caress from the shadows.
No one has ever told me I’m beautiful before. I’ve been too preoccupied with dealing with my mother and taking care of Paige to pay much attention to my looks. Heat flushes my cheeks, and I hope I don’t look like a clown when I get to the checkpoint. If Raffe is right and this is the only way in, I need to look as good as I can if I want a chance of seeing Paige again.
By the time I reach the front of the chaotic line, several women have just about thrown themselves at the guards. None of them were allowed in. It doesn’t make me feel any better about my greasy hair as I drive up to the guards.
They give me a bored once-over. There are two of them. Their speckled wings look small and withered compared to Raffe’s. One of the guards’ face is lightly speckled with green, just like his wings. The word dappled comes to mind, like a horse. Looking into his face is a wrenching reminder that they are not human. That Raffe is not human.
Dappled waves at me to come out of the car. I hesitate for a moment before slowly getting out. He didn’t do that with the other girls in the cars in front of me.
I pull down my hem to make sure it covers my butt. The guards look at me up and down. I resist the urge to slouch and cross my arms across my breasts.
Dappled waves for me to spin around. I feel like a stripper and I want to kick them in the teeth, but I do a slow spin for them on my unsteady heels. Paige. Think about Paige.
The guards exchange a look. I frantically think about what I could do or say to try to get them to let me through. If Raffe says this is the way in, then I must find a way to get them to let me in.