Angelfall (Penryn & the End of Days #1)(73)

“Ryn-Ryn.” Her voice is on the verge of tears. It's the sound of a frightened little girl, one who's sure her big sister can make the monsters under her bed go away. Paige hasn't called me Ryn-Ryn since she was a baby.

I look at the angry stitches crisscrossing her face and body. I stare at her bruises—red and blue all over her poor face and body.

It’s not her fault. Whatever they did to her, she’s the victim, not the monster.

Where have I heard that before?

Something about that thought triggers an image. The image of those chewed-up girls hanging on the tree. Had that crazy couple said something like what I just thought? Is their mad conversation starting to make sense to me?

A thought sneaks into my head like poisoned gas. If Paige could only eat human flesh and nothing else, what would I do? Would I go so far as to use human bait to lure her, thinking I could help her?

Too horrifying to even think about.

And totally irrelevant.

Because there’s no reason to think Paige had to eat anything. Paige is not a low demon. She’s a little girl. A vegetarian. A born humanitarian. A budding Dalai Lama, for chrissake. She only attacked the angel to defend me. That’s all.

Besides, she didn’t eat him, she just… gnawed on him a little.

The chunks of flesh quiver on the floor. My stomach roils.

Paige watches me with her warm brown eyes fringed with doe-like lashes. I concentrate on that and purposely ignore the blood dripping from her chin and the big, cruel stitches running from her lips to her ears.

Behind her, the angel convulses in earnest. His eyes roll, leaving them pure white, and his head bangs repeatedly on the concrete floor. He is having a seizure. I wonder if he can live with chunks of flesh missing and most of his blood on the floor. His body is probably frantically repairing itself even now. Is there a chance that this monster could recover from this?

I push myself up, trying to ignore the slimy fluids under my hands. My throat burns and I feel stiff and bruised all over.

“Ryn-Ryn.” Paige still has her arms up in a forlorn gesture, but I can't quite bring myself to go hug her. Instead, I lurch over to the angel sword and grab it. I walk back a little more smoothly, getting used to my body again.

I look at the angel's blank eyes, his bleeding mouth. His head trembles, tapping against the floor.

I slam the blade into his heart.

I've never killed anyone before. What frightens me isn't that I'm killing someone. What frightens me is how easy it is.

The blade cuts through him as though he is nothing but a rotten piece of fruit. I feel no sympathetic sensation of a soul or a life essence leaving. There is no guilt or shock or grief at the life that was and the person I have become. There is only the stilling of the trembling flesh and the slow exhalation of his last breath.

“Great Lord in Heaven.”

I look up, startled, at the new voice. It's another angel in a lab coat. I get a quick impression of fresh blood soaking his white coat and gloved hands before two more angels push through the door behind him. Both of the new ones also have blood on their coats and gloves.

I almost don't recognize Laylah with her golden hair pulled back in a tight bun. What is she doing here? Isn’t she supposed to be performing surgery on Raffe?

They all stare at me. I wonder why they would be staring at me rather than at my blood-splattered sister when I realize that I still have my sword stuck into the lab angel. I’m sure they have no trouble recognizing the sword for what it is. There have to be at least a dozen rules against humans having an angel sword.

My brain frantically searches for a way out of this alive. But before any of them can start making accusations, they all look up at the ceiling at the same time. Like the lab angel, they hear something I don't. The nervous looks on their faces don't reassure me.

Then I feel it too. First, a rumbling, then a trembling.

Has it been an hour already?

The angels look toward me again, then turn and bolt toward the double doors that the delivery guy used.

I didn't realize I could feel even more unnerved than I was already.

The Resistance has started their attack.





CHAPTER 40



We need to get out before the hotel comes crashing down. But I can’t just let those people get sucked dry by the scorpion-angels. Dragging the ladder to each tank and slowly pulling out each paralyzed person could take hours.

I pull my sword out of the lab angel. I run over to the fetal columns in frustration, holding the sword like a bat.

I swing the blade into one of the scorpion tanks. It’s mostly to let out my frustration and I don’t expect it to do anything other than bounce off.

Before I can even register the impact, the thick tank shatters. Fluid and glass explode onto the concrete floor.

I could get used to this sword.

The scorpion fetus unlatches from its victim. It screeches as it falls. Then it flops and writhes on the glass shards, bleeding all over them. The emaciated woman crumples to the bottom of the broken tank. Her glassy eyes stare into the air.

I have no idea if she’s alive, or if she’ll be in better shape once the venom wears off. This is the best I can do for her. The best I can do for any of them. All I can hope is that somehow, some of them will recover enough to get away from here before things become too explosive, because I can’t drag them up the stairs.