Angelfall (Penryn & the End of Days #1)(65)

I open the door and indicate that she should come in. She walks to the coffee table to put down her tray.

“Do you have family?” I ask.

She turns and looks at me like a startled rabbit. She nods, causing her frizzy hair to flop over her eyes.

“Does this job keep them fed?”

She nods again, her eyes turning wary. She may have been an innocent a couple of months before, but that might as well have been a lifetime ago. The innocence in her eyes flees much too fast. This girl had to fight to get her job, and by the look of her grim expression, she’s had to fight to keep it, too.

“How many of you make deliveries for room service?”

“Why?”

“Just curious.” I consider telling her that I’m looking for Dee-Dum, but I don’t want to jeopardize him. There’s too much I don’t understand about angel society and servant politics for me to start throwing around names.

“There are about half a dozen of us.” She shrugs with one shoulder, keeping her wary eyes on me as she heads back for the door.

“Do you take turns delivering things?”

She nods. Her eyes dart to the bedroom door, probably wondering where my angel is.

“Am I creeping you out?” I say it with a deliberately creepy tone. Her eyes dart back to me. I saunter toward her like a vampire with a hungry expression on my face. I’m making things up as I go, but I can tell that I’m freaking her out. I guess that’s better than being laughed at for acting strange.

Her eyes widen as I approach her. She claws at the doorknob and practically runs out.

Hopefully, that takes her out of the running for making deliveries to this room. At most, I just need to order five more things.

It turns out I only have to order two more things before Dee-Dum comes to my door with a large slice of cheesecake. I close the door quickly behind him and lean against it as though this will force him to help me.

The first thing I want to ask is when the attack will happen. But he has seen me in the company of angels, and I’m afraid he’ll think of me as a threat if I start asking questions about their attack plans. So I stick to the basics.

“Do you know where they’re keeping the children?” I don’t think my voice is very loud, but he whips his hand down in a shushing motion anyway. His eyes dart to the bedroom.

“They’re gone,” I whisper. “Please help me. I need to find my little sister.”

He stares at me for a long moment. He pulls out a pen and a pad of paper, the kind a waiter might use to take your order. He scribbles something on it and hands it to me. The note reads, “Leave now while you can.”

I put my hand out for his pen and write on the same piece of paper. A few months ago, it would have been natural to use a new piece of paper for a new note, but now, the paper we have may be the last we ever have. “Can’t. Must rescue sister.”

He writes, “Then you’ll die.”

“I can tell you stuff about them you probably don’t know.”

He raises his eyebrow in question.

What can I say that he would be interested in? “They’re in political turmoil. They don’t know why they’re here.”

He writes, “How many?”

“Don’t know.”

“Weapons?”

“Don’t know.”

“Plan of attack?”

I bite my lip. I don’t know anything that’s immediately relevant to military strategy, which is obviously what he’s looking for.

“Please help me,” I whisper.

He gives me a long look. His eyes are calculating, devoid of emotion, which is an odd combination with his pink, freckled face. I don’t need this cold-hearted spymaster. What I need is the boy-next-door Dee-Dum who jokes and entertains.

I write, “You owe me, remember?” I give him a half-smile, trying to nudge him back to the playful twin I met at the camp. It works, sort of. His face warms up a bit, probably remembering the girl fight. I wonder how bad the damage was after. Did the demons leave them alone after we left?

He writes, “I’ll take you to where there might be kids. But then you’re on your own.”

I’m so excited I hug him.

“Is there anything else I can get for you, Miss?” He nods vigorously at me, telling me to order something new.

“Uh, yeah. How about…a chocolate bar?” Paige’s bite-sized chocolates are still at the bottom of my pack in the car. I would give a lot to be able to give her chocolate as soon as I see her.

“Of course,” he says as he pulls out a lighter and ignites the paper we’d been writing on. “I can get that for you right away, Miss.” The flames quickly consume the little note, leaving behind only curling remnants and the lingering scent of burnt paper.

He runs the water in the sink at the bar, where he drops the burning note until all traces of the ashes are gone. Then he picks up the fork from the tray and scoops an enormous portion of the cheesecake into his mouth. With a wink, he leaves, showing me his open palm in a signal to stay.

I wear down the carpet some more, pacing in circles until he returns. I think about his refusal to say anything out loud and what he might be doing here.

It seems like the note-writing thing is overly cautious considering the thickness of the walls and the racket in the aerie. I think Raffe would have warned me if the conversations in the rooms could be heard. But I suppose Obi’s people don’t have the benefit of an angel telling them they’re talking too loud. Despite all of Obi’s spies and contacts, it’s possible that I know more about angels than any of them.