Angel Fire (34 page)

One of the angels’ gratitude, anyway. Grimly, Raziel checked his phone again as he got in his car.

For distraction on the drive back to Denver, he found himself exploring the psychic link with Willow once more. When both she and Seb, the half-angel boy, had gone looking for the spark of Raziel’s energy – even if they hadn’t known that’s what they were looking for – he’d cloaked it even further, putting so many shields and disguises in place that even a pure angel would have struggled to find it. Now Willow’s angel self seemed puzzled by her former fears, and Raziel was free to wander about the girl’s mind without causing even the least misgiving. Willow’s own spark of energy within him remained unsuspected by her, which was fortunate: if she ever stumbled on the risks to humanity that destroying the Council now posed, the Angel Killers would never go ahead with the attack.

Willow was currently talking to Seb, trying to learn how to disguise her aura’s colours. It had been news to Raziel that this was even possible. The boy seemed unusually gifted with auras – though who knew what “usual” might be when it came to half-angels.

Steering his way down the mountain roads, a considering almost-smile came over Raziel’s face as he listened to Willow’s thoughts and feelings. At first he’d told himself he was only delving to find out what was going on with the Angel Killers, but now he had to admit that his daughter’s mental processes had become strangely addictive to him – like one of those reality TV shows humans loved so much. He’d never have guessed any progeny of his could be so
nice
. The idea was as alien as having a daughter at all. Raziel had spent days looking for some kind of edge to Willow – the angle from which she operated. There was none, unless it was her love for Kylar, or her desire to help others.

Yet she was no doormat – the girl had a steely strength that Raziel was sure came from him. Miranda had been beautiful, but a limp dishrag of a woman. In short, Willow was a worthy adversary, which irrationally pleased him. If he had to have something as base as a daughter, he at least wanted her to have some wits about her before he put her to death.

Even so, Raziel was deeply thankful no one suspected he was the father. His mind went back to the day he’d first woken up, and his meeting with the Council in the cathedral conference room: their expressionless faces that never seemed to smile or frown. They’d brought up the half-angel, of course – it had been almost the first thing they’d thrown at him.

“We Twelve have tried to find her psychically but can’t; her energy is once-removed from ours.” Isda’s grey eyes had been as impassive as when she’d called for the traitors to be brought out. “How was she able to get into the cathedral and then escape again, Raziel? Exactly what kind of security do you have here?”

Raziel had gritted his teeth, but kept his tone mild as he explained about his traitorous human assistant. He could feel the Twelve’s minds craning towards each other; undercurrents of thought that he couldn’t catch swirled about the room.

That’s not good enough,
said someone. The words weren’t spoken aloud; the meeting had apparently shifted to the psychic level, which was always a bad sign. If Raziel hadn’t already had psychic defences in place, he would have slammed them down at that moment, like a castle portcullis.

The voice became several voices, all communicating with him at once.
This kind of sloppy work isn’t acceptable, Raziel. The girl should have been destroyed weeks ago. Who’s the father? How was this even able to happen?

Raziel had managed to keep the surface of his thoughts concerned, wanting to help. Far below, his mind was ticking away.
I have no idea,
he replied.
The girl’s existence is obviously a fluke – believe me, I’m as concerned as you are.

We’re relieved to hear you share our concerns,
said Isda’s voice. Isda herself was leaning silently back in her seat, giving away nothing. Other mental voices chimed in as she continued:
Because, as you know, we have never approved of angel–human relationships. It’s unacceptable for angels to demean themselves in this manner.

Yes, I’m aware you believe that,
said Raziel smoothly.
But as newcomers to this world, you have to understand it’s quite an ingrained thing by now – traditional, if you like.

There was a further cooling of the room’s atmosphere.
You’ve spent far too long here, if you think that makes it in any way acceptable,
chided the many voices in his head.
We are angels; we do not cavort with pigs in the dirt.
He could feel a few of them beginning to tendril about, searching for anything interesting, and he put up a few extra defences, retreating deep into the recesses of his mind.

Moderation is the key, Raziel,
continued the mental chorus. Every face in the room was stony; he was uneasily reminded of the dozens of angels exploding in mid-air.
You’d better remember that if you want to keep your position here.

Now anger touched him again as he pulled into the cathedral parking lot; how dare they have sat there and threatened him in his own cathedral? Striding back into his office, Raziel felt a smug satisfaction at the sight of Jenny, remembering that their liaison had begun the same evening the Council had left. After several weeks, she was almost as lovely as ever – though she looked more tired these days, and had developed a nagging cough. Raziel shrugged as he sat down at his desk. Perhaps it might be time for a new assistant soon. If so, there’d be no limit of enthusiastic volunteers.

Still no word from Charmeine. With another restless glance at his phone, Raziel tossed it to one side and brought up his emails.

His forehead furrowed at one of the title lines:
Some Information You Ought to Know.
As he scanned the message, his eyebrows shot up. Now,
this
was interesting: it was from the security guard who’d been stationed at the cathedral’s back door when the Second Wave arrived. Raziel regarded the words on the screen thoughtfully.

...The day of the attack, she was one of the ones who brought in Willow Fields. I’m sure it was her this morning, even though her hair was different. She showed me a badge and started questioning me about that terrorist guy who came running in. She sure seemed anxious to find him. She gave me a card and said to get in touch day or night if I thought of where he might have gone. I haven’t told the police yet, I just feel better going to an angel with this information
...

The phone did a vibrating dance on his desk. Charmeine. Raziel lunged forward, snatching it up. “What’s going on?” he demanded.

“I’m fine, thank you for asking,” said Charmeine’s voice, sounding weary. “I’m in Mexico City. I don’t know if you heard about it from your contacts or not, but the Council came here early, with hardly any warning.”

Raziel didn’t correct her assumption that his communications with the Angel Killers went both ways. “I’ve known for two days!” he gritted out. “I’ve been going mad, waiting to hear from you – what happened? Did they find out there was a security leak?”

She sighed. “Yes – our darling little Luis. He let slip to a woman in the office how curious his girlfriend is about the Council, and that he’d promised to get her and some friends in for a private audience.”

Raziel groaned aloud; remembering the earnest face he’d seen in Charmeine’s thoughts, he could just picture it. The warning not to tell anyone about Kara must have worn off in the time that had passed since Charmeine’s encounter with him. Or else the lad had been so dizzy from angel burn he’d forgotten he wasn’t supposed to talk.

“Anyway, the woman told the preacher, who went straight to the Council,” went on Charmeine. “Apparently there’d always been a contingency plan in place. They switched to it just to be on the safe side.”

“The Twelve didn’t get hold of Luis, did they?” asked Raziel warily.

“
No
, they didn’t. Do you think I’d still be around talking to you if they had? He’d gone to visit his family for the weekend; by the time they figured it out, I’d whisked him away.”

Raziel’s shoulders slumped with relief. If Luis had been turned over to the Council, they’d have seen what had happened in seconds. “So what did you do with him?”

She snorted. “What do you think? I wasn’t going to keep him as a pet.”

He nodded to himself; Charmeine might be maddening at times, but she never balked at necessities. Something about her tone worried him, though. “
Are
you all right?” he asked abruptly.

Charmeine sighed. “Yes, I suppose. It’s just...this isn’t easy, Raz. They delve me almost every day, to make sure I’m still compliant. It’s draining, having to keep them psychically at bay and act like nothing’s wrong. But I’ll keep holding out, don’t worry. It’s only for a few more weeks.”

“Do
I
have a few more weeks?” he asked bluntly. “Or are they going to call me down there and execute me anyway?”

There was a pause. “I don’t know,” said Charmeine finally. “They’re planning some kind of response to your interview soon, but I’m not sure exactly what – they want to make you squirm for a while longer. I do know they’d prefer to take care of you in your own cathedral; they feel it’s only fitting. If you lie low, you might be okay for now.”

Raziel nodded, grimly hoping she was right. Before the Council had a chance to come for him personally, the tables would have turned.

“Anyway, they’re pretty preoccupied with their own plans at the moment,” added Charmeine.

Raziel’s chair squeaked as he leaned back with a frown, remembering the images he’d seen in her mind. “They’re still going ahead with that?”

She gave a short laugh. “Have you been to Mexico City lately? The angels here aren’t exactly an advertisement for behaving with decorum. The Twelve are more concerned about our ‘baser instincts’ than ever. They’re going to link with the energy here first, calming it down, then spread out to all the other places in the world where they think things are out of control.”

Raziel’s gaze narrowed at a painting on the wall. If the Twelve’s energies were linked with those of Mexico City, and then the Twelve were destroyed...he gave a mental shrug. All right, so the Mexican capital would definitely take some damage; it could even be levelled. As for the world’s other angelic “hot spots”, who knew? The kind of long-range energy work the Council was planning wouldn’t be instantaneous; maybe it wouldn’t have had time to fully take effect. Thankfully, at the rate humans bred, the angels’ food supply being curtailed wasn’t really an issue either way.

He could almost hear Charmeine coming to the same conclusions; her identical mental shrug. “Anyway, we’ve got to get the new information to your little band of thugs,” she said. “And it can’t be someone that close to the Council again; I only barely got to Luis in time. Should I just give it to them myself?”

“They can see auras,” pointed out Raziel.

“So? I’ll pretend to be a rogue. They were all pally with Nate, right? I’ll just put on my sanctimonious, holier-than-thou face.”

Raziel clicked a silver pen open and shut as he considered it. Though the entire angel community knew of the rogues’ mass execution, the Angel Killers did not – and he knew from Willow’s thoughts that Kylar had once had hopes of joining forces with them. But remembering how the young assassin had refused to simply obey orders and kill Willow when he’d been told to, the idea made him uneasy nonetheless.

“No,” he decided. “Kylar can get too suspicious – the last thing we need is him poking around in things. We need to find a way to get him the information so he can trust it.” Recalling the email he’d been reading, he brought it up on the screen again. A slow smile grew across his face.

“I might have an idea,” he said. “Leave it with me.”

“Not too long,” cautioned Charmeine; he could hear her tension. “It makes me nervous, not even having a plan in place. I’ll call you as soon as I can get away again.”

After they hung up, Raziel wrote several emails; a few were from anonymous accounts. Finally he hit
Send
on the last one, pleased with himself. A week or two was all it would take, he was sure of it – there was no way she’d be able to resist the lure he’d just cast. Once in Mexico City, she’d be the perfect liaison between themselves and Kylar, even if she thought her role there was completely different. And far less expendable, once she’d served her purpose.

Turning back and forth in his chair, Raziel allowed himself to daydream about what it would be like if his gamble paid off, and the assassination meant only the deaths of the Twelve. On the whole, angels were conservative beings. Once they got over the shock of the Council being gone, he didn’t think he’d encounter a serious challenge to his leadership – just lots of angels asking for positions in his new reign. The thought made him smile. He had so many plans for this world.

The newest, Camp Angel, was particularly exciting.

Raziel had long wished there was a way angels could savour the energy of all humans, not just the ones who’d reached some semblance of maturity. The energy of childhood was so particularly delicious, though of course it wasn’t really the done thing: to feed on too many children would soon spell the angels’ own destruction. But with families encased behind gated communities, he could keep track of exactly who was being fed from – and so with careful management, angels would be able to indulge their tastes regardless of their victims’ ages.

Like a veal farm,
thought Raziel in satisfaction. And remembering the Council’s admonition to him about the importance of moderation, he laughed out loud.