Angelfall (Penryn & the End of Days #1)(81)

It’s little Paige.

From my angle, I can see the crude stitches along her jawline leading up to her ear. Mom’s cheery yellow sweater lies askew along the stitches on her throat and shoulder. I’ve carried her like this a thousand times. I never thought we would switch places one day. She walks at a normal pace rather staggering the way she should with my weight.

The crowd goes quiet. Everyone stares at us.

She places me onto a truck bed without anyone’s help. The soldier standing in the bed grips his rifle in the ready position and backs away from us. The people who are already on the truck back up into each other like animals herding together.

I hear Paige grunting as she climbs into the truck. No one helps her. She bends over to pick me up again.

She smiles a little when she looks at me, but it turns into a wince once it gets big enough to shift her stitches. I catch a glimpse of raw meat fibers caught in her even rows of razor teeth.

I wish I could close my eyes.

My baby sister places me along a bench on the side of the truck bed. People shift out of our way. My mother comes into view and sits by my head. She props my head onto her lap. She is still crying but no longer hysterical. Paige sits by my feet.

Obi must be nearby because everyone on the truck looks past the truck bed as if waiting for a verdict. Will they let me stay?

“Let’s get out of here,” says Obi. “We’ve already wasted too much time. Get these people on the trucks! Let’s go before she blows!”

She? The aerie?

The truck fills with people, but somehow, they manage to leave some space around us so we’re not crowded.

Gunshots pop among the shouting. Everybody hangs on, preparing for a rough ride. The truck lurches forward, weaving through dead cars as it speeds away from the aerie.

My head bounces on my mother’s thigh as we run over something. A body? The machine-gun popping of bullets shooting into the air never stops. I can only hope that the wild spray of bullets misses Raffe, wherever he is.

Not long after we leave, a large truck crashes into the building in the false dawn of the firelight.

The first floor of the aerie explodes outward in a ball of fire.

Glass and concrete spray in every direction. Through the fire, smoke and debris, people and angels fly away from the aerie like scattered ants.

The majestic building teeters as though in shock.

Fire flickers out from the lower windows. My heart constricts, wondering if Raffe stayed out of the aerie. I didn’t see where he went after he left me. I can only hope he is safe.

Then, the aerie slowly collapses on itself.

It comes down in a heap with a puff of dust billowing out in slow motion. The accompanying rumbling sounds like an endless earthquake. Everyone stares in awe.

Hordes of angels circle the air, viewing the carnage.

When the dust mushrooms toward them, they back off, spreading out, looking sparse and dispersed. When the crown fa?ade of the aerie topples onto the broken heap, there is an awed silence.

Then, in twos and threes, the angels scatter into the smoky sky.

Everyone around us cheers. Some are crying. Others are hollering. People jump up and down, clapping. Strangers who would have pointed guns at each other on the street are now hugging.

We have struck back.

We have declared war on any being that dares to think they can wipe us out without a fight. No matter how celestial, no matter how powerful they are, this is our home and we will fight to keep it.

The victory is far from perfect. I know that many of the angels have escaped with only minor injuries. Maybe a few have been killed, but the rest will heal quickly.

But to look at the people celebrating, you’d think the war has been won. I understand now what Obi meant when he said this attack was not about winning over the angels. It was about winning over the humans.

Until now, no one, certainly not me, believed there was even a chance at fighting back. We thought the war was over. Obi and his resistance fighters have now shown us that it’s just beginning.

I never thought about it before, but I’m proud to be human. We’re ever so flawed. We’re frail, confused, violent, and we struggle with so many issues. But all in all, I’m proud to be a Daughter of Man.





CHAPTER 46



The sky glows with a blend of bloody red and soot black. The bruised light gives a surreal glow to the charred city. The soldiers have stopped shooting, although they continue to scan the skies as if expecting to see an army of demons bearing down on us. Somewhere in the distance, the sound of machine-gun fire echoes down the streets.

We continue to weave through dead cars. The people in our truck talk excitedly in hushed voices. They’re so pumped up, they each sound ready to take on an entire legion of angels all by themselves.

They still stay as much on their side of the truck as possible. It’s a good thing they’re so excited and happy; otherwise, I’m afraid they might just burn us all at the stake. In between the chatter, they keep glancing our way. It’s hard to say whether it’s my mother in her speaking-in-tongues prayer trance, or my sister with her disturbing stitches and vacant stare, or the dead body that is me that keeps them glancing our way.

The pain is fading. It’s starting to feel more like I was hit with an economy car running a stop sign as opposed to an eighteen wheeler on the freeway. My eyes are beginning to come a little under my control again. I suspect some of my other muscles are thawing too, but my eyes are the easiest to move, if you call shifting a fraction of an inch moving. But it’s enough to tell me that the effects of the venom are wearing off and that I will probably be okay.