Angel Fire (49 page)

“He has a girlfriend now,” pouted Céline, tucking her arm through Mike’s. “I am very sad at this. You’ll have to comfort me later.”

“Oh, hey, that’s too bad,” said Mike in a soothing voice. “Yeah, we’ll have to have some serious comforting time when we get back.”

They’d reached the bottom of the stairs; somehow the three girls and Mike had gotten ahead of them. Smiling widely, Mike turned and gave Seb a double thumbs up as the girls started filing through the metal detector.

Willow’s expression was slightly dazed. “Friends of yours?”

Seb shrugged; he could hardly believe they’d all appeared. “I know them from the hostel I was staying in.”

Something in Céline’s handbag had set off the machine; the guard went through it as Mike and the girls clustered around. The other guard motioned for Seb and Willow to wait.

Willow watched as Céline laughed and flipped back her chocolate-brown hair. “The girls are all very pretty, aren’t they?” she said in a neutral tone. “That one, Céline, really seems to like you.”

Seb stared down at her profile. Was he imagining things, or had there been a glimmer almost like jealousy from her? Then Willow seemed to shake her head at herself and the sense faded. The guard motioned her through; she groped in her pocket for her ticket and moved forward, heels clicking on the marble floor.

They came out into the packed main cathedral. As Seb had seen before when he’d had a look around, the bones of the place had been altered somewhat since his boyhood – but its flesh was now completely different. Far away down the aisle, golden angels shone from the ornate floor-to-ceiling altar; smaller ones held candlesticks aloft from the corner of each pew. There were several real angels too, gliding through the high-domed space, wings flashing like mirrors. Reaching out with his mind, Seb found a throng of them sitting in the unseen office area – easily over a dozen.

“Look, here’s a seat,” said Céline, tugging at his arm. “There’s room for all of us, if we squeeze.”

“Thanks, but Maria and I will—”

Céline ignored him and reached across to take Willow’s arm instead, laughing as she drew her into the pew. “Come, come! We haven’t seen Seb in weeks – we want to meet his girlfriend!”

Behind them, people were waiting to get past; Mike shoved Seb good-naturedly into the pew ahead of him, beside Willow. “Nice wings, dude,” he whispered. “You took my advice, didn’t you – told her you’re a devout.”

Seb’s eyes met Willow’s as they both realized: it was either make a scene and perhaps draw attention to themselves, or stay where they were. “I think it’ll be all right,” murmured Willow to him as they sat down. “The service will be starting soon, anyway.”

“We must play a game,” announced Céline once they were settled. “What actress does Maria look like? Because she looks so familiar it’s driving me insane. Seb, who do you think?”

He shrugged. His heart was suddenly pounding. “I don’t know,” he said, gazing at the converted cathedral and trying to sound uninterested. “She’s more beautiful than any actress.”

The three French girls all cooed in delight. Mike nodded. “Definitely the right answer.” He offered his hand to Willow. “I’m Mike, by the way. I’m from Sacramento, what about you? I heard an American accent, right?”

“I’m from Maine,” said Willow, shaking his hand. Seb could sense her anxiety. “Bangor.”

“Yeah? What brought you down here?”

Her lavender wings moved as she shrugged. “The same as everyone else, I guess.”

“How did you two meet?” asked Nicole, leaning forward. Her eyes had circles under them. She looked approvingly at Willow’s angel wings. “Did the angels bring you together?”

“Um...” Willow swallowed and glanced up at Seb, her gaze searching his. “Yes, sort of.”

Her hands were tense on her lap; he took one of them, and she gripped his fingers tightly. “It’s a long story,” he said. “But I’ll tell it if you like. It’s very romantic.” He was already planning how he could spin it out; make it so boring that they’d completely lose interest in Willow.

“Wait, wait, I know the actress!” burst in Céline, bouncing slightly in her seat. “It’s that girl with long blonde hair – what is her name? She’s been in so many things!”

Seb froze. Long blonde hair.
Madre mía
, in another moment she’d have it.

“No, people usually say Keira Knightley,” said Willow quickly. “Or...or Katie Holmes.”

“Keira Knightley?” Céline frowned in surprise. “No...well, maybe a tiny bit...”

To Seb’s immense relief the service started then with a rippling of harp music, and conversation stopped. The three French girls faced forward, eyes shining as the preacher made his way up the small spiral staircase to the angel-winged pulpit. Willow let out a breath. Seb stroked his thumb across her fingers, aware that he wasn’t at all sorry to be posing as her boyfriend.

The preacher looked younger than Seb had imagined, with dark hair and a wide smile. He raised his hands to the sky, smiling out at the congregation as he spoke into a microphone. “
Bienvenido a la Catedral de los Ángeles
.”

An interminable sermon about the angels’ love; how lucky Mexico was to now have its own personal angel; lots of standing and singing hymns and then sitting down again. Céline and the other girls knew the hymns by heart, though the lyrics were in Spanish. Willow pressed close to Seb as they shared a hymnal, her head down – obviously trying to keep her face away from their notice now.

Finally the moment came when the preacher asked if anyone wished to be blessed on behalf of the angels. He came down from the pulpit to the balustrade, his questioning tone echoing through the speakers. Thankfully, the angels they’d seen when they first entered the cathedral were gone now, apparently sated. When Seb checked, he could sense they’d joined the others in the office area for the time being.

A few people started going hesitantly towards the front, footsteps echoing on the shining marble. Willow gave Seb’s fingers a meaningful squeeze as she released them. He nodded. “Excuse us,” he whispered to Mike. The American’s eyebrows shot up; Seb could practically hear him thinking,
What – really?
But he didn’t comment as Seb and Willow edged past.

Neither spoke as they went down the long centre aisle. They both knew more angels could appear at any time, and sense his and Willow’s energy, if they got close enough. Willow’s chin was up, her gaze steady on the balustrade where people were kneeling. The preacher was already blessing the second applicant, his lips moving in prayer as he held the man’s hand. The woman he’d just blessed stayed kneeling, head down.

And from nowhere, the thought flashed through Seb’s mind how right this would feel, if circumstances were different: to walk towards an altar like this with Willow someday. If she felt the same, he’d even do it now, despite both their ages. Because, as he glanced down at her beside him, he knew that this girl – this woman – was the only one he’d ever love. She’d had his heart for almost his entire life; she was woven into the very fabric of him.

They reached the balustrade with the great golden altar gleaming before them, and kneeled side by side on blue velvet cushions. Willow bowed her head; Seb could sense her complete focus on the job at hand. Pushing away his thoughts, he cleared his own mind, getting himself into the relaxed state that he used for his readings.

It seemed to take for ever. Finally the preacher reached Seb, his eyes gentle. “Do you wish to be blessed by the angels, my son?”

“Yes, father.” Seb held out his hand; felt the priest take it.

A burst of sensation, images, knowledge. Seb’s heart sank. This wasn’t the usual preacher at all – the usual preacher was sick. This man was visiting from another state, and though ecstatic at the thought of meeting the Seraphic Council in a few days, he’d arrived only hours ago – had hardly even had a chance to speak to anyone before he’d been asked to do the evening service. Seb probed deeply, but his spirits were sinking. There was nothing here to get; this man didn’t know the details of the reception yet.

The priest lightly touched Seb’s bowed head and moved on to Willow. Seb stayed where he was. He could sense her discouragement after a moment, and knew she’d found out the same thing as him. At last the preacher moved on again, to a man wearing a grey business suit.

Seb turned his head on his clasped hands, gazing sidelong at Willow. Their eyes met; she bit her lip, and glanced at the arched door in the shadows that led to the offices. “Seb, we’ve got to go in there,” she whispered.

He nodded reluctantly, eyeing the office doorway. Maybe he could leave Willow in the corridor, while he attempted to go past the angels himself.

She was regarding him with a small smile. “Think again,” she murmured.

Seb blew out a breath and looked back towards the door. As he did, he saw the first woman the preacher had blessed, still kneeling with her head on her hands...and his eyes widened as he took in her aura. The other life energies at the balustrade were either grey and sickly, or soft pastel hues of devotion; hers was an ugly, furtive mustard-yellow, with angry red veins.

As he watched, one of the woman’s hands left the top of the balustrade and pressed something underneath it. She rose and walked quickly away.

Seb’s skin crawled with sudden apprehension. Turning, he saw at least ten people with similar auras, all of them now hurrying towards one of the side exits. The woman was running now. A man spun around as he reached the door and shouted, “El DF
is dying! Funds for doctors, not angels!
”

As the first explosion rocked the cathedral, Seb lunged for Willow, tackling her to the ground and shielding her with his body. He heard her cry out and closed his eyes tightly as another explosion came, and then another. Things were pattering to the floor around them; something small and hard bounced off Seb’s back. The smell of smoke – Willow’s body trembling under his. Shrieks of fear and pain, mixing with the thunder.

Finally the explosions stopped.

Screams echoed through the cathedral as the congregation started stampeding for the doors. Seb dared a glance up and saw pews and bodies lying twisted and tangled; debris; the golden altar blackened. The man in the business suit sat slumped against the splintered balustrade, covered in blood. The young preacher lay motionless, half his head blown away. Seb had barely taken it in when a flock of angels with furious faces streamed out through the wall from the office area. They circled once in the smoky air and then angled up and out, vanishing through the high ceiling.

Urgency pounded at him; they had to get out of here. He struggled to his feet, helping Willow up – she was pale and shaking. Looking back at the entrance, his gaze somehow found Mike sprawled across a pew, obviously dead.
Mike
. Seb stared, stunned, wondering fleetingly if Céline and the others were all right. He couldn’t tell; the main entrance had turned into a seething mass of people, screaming and struggling to escape.

Suddenly a stained-glass window shattered inwards, the glass angels splintering as the crowd outside battered something through its panes. “El DF
is dying! Let the angels die too!
”

Willow stood staring at the preacher, tears running down her smoke-smudged face. Seb grabbed her hand, pulling her after him as he started running towards the back of the cathedral, to the exit he’d told Kara about. Willow was still crying but stopped short, tugging at him. “Seb, no! We’ve got to go back into the offices; this is our only chance!”

Forget about saving the world, I just want to save you!
But she was right. Seb held back a curse; still gripping her hand, he turned and headed for the shadowy corner. They both had their arms to their mouths, coughing; as they passed the mangled altar again, Willow’s face was pale but resolute – he could sense she was holding onto herself tightly, determined to do what had to be done. They reached the office door, where she jabbed in the security code unhesitatingly.

A green light glowed. Seb threw open the door and they ran down a narrow stone hallway lined with paintings of angels. As the door closed behind them, the sound of shouts cut off abruptly; an almost eerie silence descended. Around a bend were the new offices – a large reception area with sofas and chairs. The door just beyond stood open; Seb could hear the hum of computers.

They rushed in – there was another door to the right. Opening it, Seb saw a large mahogany desk. This computer was on too; he slid into the chair and tapped the mouse. The box requesting a password came up, and he swore. He glanced at the mouse again, rested his hand on it. He wasn’t usually very good with objects, but he didn’t need
details
, just some kind of hint; a clue—

Only jumbled images of angels came.
Ángeles
, he typed. Wrong password.
laiglesiadelosángeles
. Nothing.

Willow had gone for the filing cabinet, tugging at it fruitlessly. She ran over. “Keys, are there any keys?”

As she spoke, Seb’s gaze fell on a carved wooden angel beside the monitor. A tickle of knowledge came, and he grabbed for it – small silver keys lay underneath. He snatched them up, gave them to Willow.

“Try the mouse for me – we need the password,” he said tensely.

“Oh god, I’m not great at this...” She touched the mouse, frowning. “Um – something about the angels’ glory, maybe?” She sprinted back to the files. “What’s the Spanish for ‘Seraphic Council’? And ‘security’?”

Seb told her, furiously typing in
lagloriadelosángeles
. It worked, and he heaved a sigh of relief – but no sooner had he accessed the email account than the lights in the office flickered and died. The computer screen went black. Seb stared blankly at it. At the filing cabinet, Willow gave a surprised yelp; then her angel appeared overhead, casting light on the files.

Somewhere, a rhythmic banging noise had started.

Seb looked up, his skin prickling. He reached for his own angel self, sent it soaring down the hallway. As he burst out into the main cathedral, he saw that most of the congregation had now escaped, but the place was full of rioters – tipping over pews, smashing windows. Several of them were battering at the locked office door with an angel statue, their auras blood-red as they yelled obscenities. Wheeling on one wing, Seb saw the wooden door start to buckle. Someone else ran up – a man shouting at the others to move aside. He pulled a gun and began firing at the door.