Angel Fire (51 page)

“Willow!” he called in a strangled voice. “Willow, are you in here?” A bonfire crackled halfway down the corridor: oil paintings warping and twisting. He took a running jump and got past it somehow; half-fell as he landed and kept going. When he reached the office door more smoke was pouring out – the reception area and inner offices were all in flames, furniture lying on its side, files scattered.

“Willow!” he got out again. He searched the smoky den the best he could, crouching low and feeling his way around the floor. The heat was a solid wall; the smoke was in his throat, up his nose – fogging his brain, making it hard to think. A splintering crash came as the desk collapsed. Sparks flew, sizzling at his exposed hands and cheeks.

“Alex!” Kara had appeared, holding someone’s jacket over her face as she tugged at his arm; her eyes looked like red, burning coals. Her shouts were muffled. “We’ve got to get out of here—”

“No!” he choked out. “Willow—”

“She’s
not here!
Do you want to die, you idiot?”

He resisted, but the smoke had made him weak. Kara half dragged him from the office. In the corridor, smoke lay heavy in both directions; taking the slightly better way, they found the paintings on the stone floor had almost burned out. They got past the sputtering flames and burst back into the relative clarity of the cathedral. Police had arrived, struggling with the rioters – Alex saw someone go down as an officer clubbed him over the head.

“They won’t like us any better,” gasped Kara. “We’ve got to get to that side exit Seb told us about.”

Alex was bent over coughing. He shook his head, wiping his streaming eyes. “No, I’ve got to keep looking – she could be in here—”

Kara gripped his arms, her nails gouging at him. “Listen to me!” she hissed. “There is an angel
war
going on outside, and your team’s on their own! If she and Seb are alive, they’ll take care of each other. If they’re not, it’s too late anyway, so come
on
!”

Even through his shirt, Kara was clutching him hard enough for her nails to break the skin. The pain cleared his head. She was right. He hated it, but she was right. With a last look at the bodies that lay scattered around them, Alex nodded. It felt like he was tearing his heart out and leaving it behind.

“Come on,” he said shortly.

As they escaped out the side door, he thought to do a scan, cursing himself for not doing it sooner. He lifted above his chakra points while they pounded back towards the Zócalo, searching feverishly. Around them shouting gangs were smashing windows; looting from stores; rocking cars over. He couldn’t feel Willow’s distinctive half-angel energy anywhere. So either she’d gotten away and was somewhere on these riot-choked streets, or she was dead. Alex gritted his teeth. No, he refused to believe the latter. He refused.

Take care of her, Seb,
he thought as they reached the Zócalo again.
Oh man, I beg you – take care of her
.

There was no time for further thought. The riot raged through the square as Crusaders and Faithful battled it out; the police were there but not enough of them. Overhead, dozens of angels swooped like fiercely beautiful birds. In a bizarre way, the scene was reminiscent of the Love the Angels concert he and Willow had watched their first night here.

“Where’s the team?” Alex couldn’t see them anywhere.

Kara stood staring, her beautiful face smudged with smoke; she held a pistol half-hidden under her bag. “I don’t know! When I went in after you they were still near the cathedral, but—”

She broke off as a flying angel exploded into nothing near the Palacio Nacional.

“There!” said Alex. With his own gun drawn, they took off at a run, skirting the edges of the crowd. A ripple had passed through the angels at the death – they were now gliding in the same direction as he and Kara. Dozens of them, and he was still too far away to help the team.

Please don’t all be sticking together in a group again,
he prayed as they ran. Their only hope was to use guerrilla tactics and hide in the mob, picking off the angels one by one. They’d be massacred otherwise.

Almost as soon as Alex thought it, he spotted Sam’s broad shoulders and blonde hair. He grabbed Kara’s arm and they ducked into the throng. Reaching Sam, Alex found him gazing up at the sky, blue eyes narrowed.

“Where’s the rest of the team?” he demanded, raising his voice above the shouts.

Sam leaned close, bellowing in his ear. “Don’t worry! I’ve got ’em posted all over. We’ve got our phones on vibrate too, so you can call us in when you need to. The designated meeting spot is over by the Palacio, near the main doors.”

Relief made Alex’s muscles weak. “Good work,” he called back. “Really good work, Sam; I mean it.”

Sam was squinting up at the sky again. “Yeah, it’s this asshole lead I’m stuck working under – guess maybe he taught me a few things.”

Alex clapped him on the shoulder. “Come on, we’ll fan out too,” he said to Kara.

She nodded. Her eyes met his as she slipped away into the crowd, and he saw the same thought that was in his own mind: without the security information, their attack on the Council might now be doomed – but at least they could do something about what was happening here. Alex’s jaw tightened. More than that, taking some kind of action might stop him from going insane right now.

Hidden by the battling crowd, Alex chose his moments carefully – only firing when he had a clear shot and trying not to get sucked into the fray. Soon he’d brought down three angels; as he aimed at a fourth it burst into glittering leaves of light.
Nice one,
he thought to whoever had gotten it.

“Alex!” called a female voice.

Willow?
His pulse thudded as he spun in place. But the woman struggling her way towards him was around thirty years old, with shoulder-length brown hair. For a confused second Alex couldn’t place her; then his muscles stiffened. Christ, he’d never expected to see Sophie Kinney again – would have been just as happy not to, the way she’d left Willow to die in Denver. What was she doing
here
?

With a flash of radiance, an angel dove at someone right behind her. Alex quickly took aim, and felt dark amusement as Sophie stopped short, eyes wide – she apparently thought he was about to blow her head off. He pulled the trigger; the creature vanished into fragments. Sophie gave an alarmed cry as the rush of energy from the kill swept past. It affected you like that at first. Then you got so used to it you barely noticed any more.

“An angel,” Alex explained as he closed the distance between them.

Sophie gulped, nodded. “Yes, of course.” She glanced nervously at the boiling throng around them. “Alex, I need to talk to you.”

Before he could reply, frenzied screams broke out, along with a pulsing, hissing noise. People shoved past, drenched and running. Alex grabbed Sophie’s elbow, moving them hastily with the flow. More police had arrived, and they’d brought water cannons – jetting, merciless blasts that were knocking people off their feet, making them scramble away on all fours. In a matter of minutes, everyone still here was going to be arrested, and probably handed over to the angels. Jogging now, Alex veered towards the Palacio Nacional; through the dispersing crowd, he glimpsed Trish and Brendan, already heading that way. As he and Sophie ran, he pulled out his phone and punched a few buttons, calling the rest of the team in.

“I’ve rented a truck – it’s parked nearby,” panted Sophie.

He brought her aura into view, scanning it. No sign of angel burn. “Good,” he said shortly. “We’ll need it, to get through these streets.” And under everything was the constant heartbeat of
Willow, please be okay – please, please
...

As the team gathered, Alex frowned to see Wesley clutching his left forearm. “What’s wrong? Are you hurt?”

Wesley’s face was an ashen grey. “An angel was reaching for my life force. I shot it, but I think it tore away a little bit over my arm or something.”

Alex’s heart sank as he and Kara glanced at each other. He knew doctors could do nothing – Wesley would regain the use of his arm as his aura tried to heal, or he wouldn’t. It was how Cully had lost a leg. He tried to quell the immediate voice that told him this was his fault; that he shouldn’t have had the team out on their own yet.

Wesley’s expression had gone hard, watching them. “What?” he demanded. “It’ll be better in time for the attack, right?”

“If we’re lucky,” said Alex. Their late-night conversation in the range came rushing back; hiding his doubt, he clasped Wesley’s good shoulder. “Seriously, it could be totally fine – we just need to get you back so you can rest.”

“Alex, I have
got
to take part in the attack—”

He broke off as Trish drew closer, her face creased with concern. “Wes, are you okay?”

Wesley nodded, his expression softening a little. “Yeah, I’m fine.” Like everyone, he got along well with Trish; Alex wouldn’t be surprised if he’d even told her about his family having angel burn. She touched his arm, unconvinced.

“Man, that’s gotta hurt,” said Sam, wincing. Then he noticed Sophie, and scowled. “Who’s this?”

Looking back, Alex saw the police had arrived in full force now, and were sweeping through the square. “CIA,” he said. “It’s okay, we can trust her. Come on, we’ve got to get out of here.”

Sophie’s poise had returned, so that now she was as cool and businesslike as he remembered. “My truck’s parked nearby – let’s go.” She led the way, hurrying across the square.

Liz glanced around as the team followed. “Wait, where are Willow and Seb?”

“I don’t know,” bit out Alex, walking in long strides. “Hopefully still alive.”

Liz started to say something else and stopped, looking stricken. Kara cleared her throat. “Hey, is Miss CIA who I think she is?” she asked, obviously changing the subject.

Alex had told Kara what had happened the day of the Second Wave – how Sophie had left Willow at the cathedral with no escape plan. “Yeah, that’s her,” he said grimly.

Sam was still glowering with suspicion. As they reached the street, he hauled Alex to one side. “That’s who? She’s not another half-angel, is she?” he hissed.

And despite everything, Alex almost laughed. “No, Sam. She’s not another half-angel.”

It took us over half an hour to walk to Tepito by back streets. The sandals pinched at my feet; I ignored them and walked even faster. When I peered over my shoulder, I could still see a reddish glow in the sky over the
centro
; hear the incessant blaring of sirens. Once there was a distant explosion – a burning car, maybe. My breath clutched at the sound; for a second I almost went faint, seeing again the bodies in the cathedral. Seb glanced at me in concern, his fingers tightening around mine. We hadn’t stopped holding hands since we’d started walking. Distantly, I supposed I should pull away, but there was no way I could have brought myself to, right then. If it hadn’t been for the warmth of Seb’s hand, I’d have gone crazy.

Swallowing hard, I searched mentally for Alex again. At first there was nothing, and then faintly, through the chaos of my mind, came the familiar feel of his energy. It was like getting a static-y radio station, but it was there. He was alive. That was pretty much all I could tell, and in a way it was enough – though remembering the cold look that had been in his eyes before Seb and I went into the cathedral, my heart ached even more than before.

Stop it,
I ordered myself harshly.
It was over between the two of you anyway
.
If you doubted it, then that should have been your tip-off – because if he was still in love with you, there’s no way he’d have let you go in there without telling you
.
None
.

The thought of it really being over between us – of Alex not being in love with me any more – hurt far too much to dwell on. I’d put the file that I’d stolen under my jean jacket, buttoning it into place, and now, as we walked, its stiff cardboard jabbed against my ribcage. Focus on that, I told myself, not Alex. And absolutely not on what happened in the cathedral. The file; the sandals hurting my feet. Seb’s hand. Just focus on Seb’s hand – the firm grip of it; how warm and caring it feels – and not bodies, sprawled helpless and bloody across the cathedral floor. Not the young preacher, with half his head blown away and one eye staring up at the painted angels on the ceiling.

Definitely do not think about these things.

The sidewalk had become trash-ridden and more crowded with people now; the buildings to either side looked run-down and grimy. I could sense from Seb’s sudden reluctance that we were almost there, though his body language was as laid-back as ever. He let go of my hand and put his arm around my shoulders.

“You’re my girlfriend again, okay?” he said. “Don’t look around you too much, no matter what you see. They don’t like outsiders here. They think of them as prey.”

I nodded, my throat almost too dry to speak. “No matter what I see?”

We turned a corner and there was a marketplace ahead: a long, dingy street filled with lit stalls. I could see clothes for sale; jewellery and cellphones. Vendors were shouting at customers in Spanish, hawking their bargains. Seb’s expression as he took it all in was twisted with more bitterness than I’d ever seen on it.

“This is the place where you can buy things,” he explained shortly. “Drugs, weapons. The end of someone’s life. Just ignore anything you see.”

Entering Tepito was like ducking into a long, rustling tunnel, formed by the plastic awnings of the market stalls. They seemed to close in around us, just like the thudding rock music that was suddenly everywhere. There were stalls selling angel statues, angel key chains, angel T-shirts. DVDs of popular movies, lots with the titles misspelled. Racks of “designer” clothes with labels that were just as wrong. I glimpsed two men off to the side; one tucked something inside his jacket as money changed hands. White, flashing smiles.

I tore my gaze away and tried to pretend I was back in Pawntucket, scraping through the hangers of the town’s single JC Penney, so bored that my eyes were glazing over. Even so, I couldn’t help staring when we passed what looked like the entrance to a small chapel. There was a skeleton sitting on a throne inside, wearing a tiara and a frilly white wedding dress. Flowers and lit candles were spread in front of it. There was even a glass of wine sitting there, as if it might decide to have a drink.