World After (37 page)

I duck and scramble under his sword arm. Probably not a recommended move but there’s a reason why you have to wind up for a hit. With me up close, he can cut but can’t do a lot of impact damage.

I try to kick out his knee but he’s ready for me and spins out of the way. Unlike the other opponents I’ve been fighting lately, Burnt is neither drunk nor an amateur.

He swings for another blow.

I duck. I feel the wind of his blade along the top of my head.

I’m off balance and don’t have enough time to set myself up for a good defensive stance.

I have just enough time to raise my blade to block.

He hits me again with bone-smashing force.

When the impact hits, my skull rattles so much, it feels as if it’s vibrating off my spine. I almost lose the sword but miraculously manage to hang onto it.

I stagger and fall to my knee.

I vaguely register Paige screaming behind me. Paige may have a killer bite but she’s no match for a warrior angel with a sword and I’m glad she knows it.

A part of me sees Raffe wading through blades and blows, trying to make his way to me. But there are too many opponents ganging up on him.

Waves of fury swamp me. What I thought was rage pulsing from Raffe is actually coming from me.

No, not me.

The sword.

Burnt was part of the gang that cut off Raffe’s wings. Because of that, the sword had to leave Raffe. Now, she’s stuck with me, a weakling little human. She’s had to suffer insult upon insult since then, including being laughed at. And now, the final
humiliation—Burnt’s about to beat us into the ground with no more than two or three blows.

Boy, is she pissed.

Fine. I’m pissed too. This bastard took my sister and look what happened.

We might as well go down in flames together. At least we can vent some of our anger in a final push. I hope I can hit him somewhere where it really hurts.

Burnt has the nerve to impatiently motion for me to get up. He’d probably never live it down if he swung his killing blow while his scrawny-girl opponent was down.

I wind up all that anger as I take my stance and get ready.

Burnt and I both draw back our swords.

With all my might, I yell and swing at the same time he does.

Paige cries my name. Raffe shouts as he shoves warriors aside, trying to reach me.

When the two swords crash, the impact neither rattles my bones nor has me tasting blood. It’s as if all the force stopped at the blade before it vibrated down to me. As if all that tremendous killing power got redirected.

Burnt’s blade shatters.

It sounds simultaneously like glass smashing and someone screaming. A jagged piece hits Burnt’s wing, slicing right through it.

I keep swinging and my blade cuts through Burnt’s chest.

It’s a clean stroke that leaves no mark until the blood seeps out in a line from one arm to the other.

He crumples.

Burnt lies on the trampled grass, bleeding. His eyes are wide open in shocked disbelief. His body trembles. His breathing is ragged and strained.

He struggles to breathe.

One… Two…

His eyes lose focus and gaze at nothing.

There’s no life in them.

I stare at him for a second longer to make sure he’s dead, reassuring myself that angel swords really can kill angels.

I look up. Raffe and the others are frozen in the middle of their fight. Everyone is staring at us.

A human girl. Killing a warrior angel. In a sword fight.

Impossible.

I’m frozen too. My arms are still up, holding the blade, poised to strike again.

I glance back at the dead body of Burnt, trying to wrap my mind around the fact that I killed an angel warrior.

Then, another incredible thing happens.

One second, we are surrounded by angels holding their swords. The next second, one of their arms drops and his sword thunks to the grass like a lead weight. The angel stares at his blade uncomprehendingly.

Another sword drops.

Then another.

Then a whole bunch, until all the other unsheathed swords fall, thudding on the grass like subjects bowing down to their queen.

The angels stare at the swords at their feet in utter shock.

Then everyone looks at me. Actually, it’s probably more accurate to say they’re looking at my sword.

“Whoa.” That’s about the most intelligent thing I can say right now. Did Raffe say something about an archangel sword intimidating other angel swords if she could gain their respect?

I swivel my eyes to look at the blade in my hands. Was that you, Pooky Bear?

P
AIGE
RUNS
over to me, still holding the wings. She tentatively buries her face in my ribs again like she used to when she had a nightmare and needed a hug.

I put my arm around her. I swear her shoulders are skinnier than they’ve ever been. But that thought leads me to all the dark places I don’t want to go so I ignore it. Judging by the wall of warriors around us, her hunger won’t be a problem much longer.

I pull her with me as I gingerly step over to Raffe. Everyone is still in shock so no one stops me even though I’m now an angel killer. I stand back-to-back with Raffe, putting Paige and the severed wings between us.

I know Paige is deadly now. But that doesn’t change the fact that she won’t survive this any better than the rest of us. And if there’s one thing I know that a kid her age shouldn’t be doing, it’s having to fight for her life while her big sister is around.

I hope her last few moments are filled with the knowledge that she was surrounded by those who tried to protect her.

We must be quite the sight. Raffe in his red mask with his demon wings spread out in all their scythe-edged glory. A scrawny teenage Daughter of Man brandishing an archangel sword. And
a little girl stitched-up to look and behave like a nightmare who is clutching a pair of angel wings.

My hair blows all over the place, and I realize that the scorpion buzz has been steadily growing into a roar again. They must have looped and are coming back our way. It feels like a storm is building up as they near.

The warriors get over their shock and begin moving toward us, barehanded. Only now, there are as many coming for me as for Raffe. I guess they’ve got a thing against human girls killing one of their own. Either that or they want to try to claim my sword.

I swipe my blade at an angel coming too close to me. He ducks and tries to grab my hair. I kick him in the stomach.

As far as I can tell, there’s an endless supply of warriors. The outcome is obvious. It won’t be long before we wear out.

We know it. They know it.

But we keep on fighting.

I’m swiping my blade at a buffed-out warrior, trying to catch him in the throat when something knocks him down.

It’s a scorpion.

For a moment, it’s a jumble of wings and a stinger rolling on the trampled grass. The scorpion isn’t really fighting the angel. I think it’s just trying to get up and fly. But the angel isn’t going to let that happen.

Another scorpion crashes into Raffe’s opponent. They roll in the dirt, tumbling in a jumble of limbs and wings. Three more scorpions clumsily crash into angels.

It takes me a moment to figure out what’s really going on.

The swarm above us has flown down, dipping and twisting like a cloud of wasps. As it dips lower, the scorpions at the bottom of the swarm crash into the angels. The collisions knock down the warriors like grass being mowed.

I have no doubt that an angel can take on a scorpion and not break out in a sweat. But there are far more scorpions than angels, and the scorpions behave like mindless beasts crashing into
bodies. Even as some of them swerve at the last second to try to avoid fatal collisions, they can’t seem to stop their own group momentum as they slam into the angels.

The sheer force of the bodies repeatedly ramming into the crowd brings them all down flat onto the lawn.

Everyone but me, Raffe, and Paige, that is.

The swarm splits around us, knocking everything in its path but leaving us untouched.

The wind caused by their wings makes me stumble backwards into Paige until she’s squeezed between Raffe and me. I reach back to hold her hand. Her little hand clings tightly to me.

Raffe spreads his wings to shelter us so that he’s at our backs with his wings protecting us on either side.

Doc may have been wrong about Paige’s feelings for Beliel, but I’m becoming convinced that he was right about Paige having something special about her. Whatever it is that Doc secretly did to her, it gave her some kind of connection with the scorpions. They’re swarming around her and protecting her with their own bodies.

They keep coming. Some sting, some don’t, as if the scorpions are confused about what they’re supposed to do. But even the ones who sting don’t linger. It’s more of a hit-and-run as if they sense that they’d be in big trouble if they stayed.

The swarm lifts, leaving the lawn littered with angels on their knees and bellies. Everyone stares up at the sky to see what’s next. We’re the only ones still on our feet.

The swarm twists and turns around to make another pass. The angels who are on their knees dive down on their stomachs, and everyone covers their heads.

Maybe if they could use their swords, the dynamics would change. But no one seems to want to risk having their sword refuse them even if it’s just for one battle.

I look around to try to see what we should do. Since they haven’t aimed for us, ducking for cover doesn’t make a lot of sense.

The swarm keeps coming. A huge gust of wind makes my eyes sting and almost knocks me off my feet.

But they split around us as before, letting us stay upright while everyone else flattens on the ground.

Still holding the folded wings, Paige slips out from between us and lies on top of Beliel. The wings are sandwiched between them with the downy feathers fluttering in the wind.

Beliel has shrunken and is almost unrecognizable lying like the dead on his stomach. The wings covering his back, though, look contrastingly full of life as they droop over him like a white blanket.

A scorpion hovers over Paige, trying to lift her but she won’t let go of Beliel.

My skin turns cold at the sight of that curved tail with the stinger so close to my sister. I’m tempted to slice it off. But Raffe puts out his hand to stop me as if he knows what I want to do.

“Put her away,” he whispers as he nods to my sword.

I hesitate, thinking of all the reasons why I should keep my blade out. But I wipe the blood on my pants and slide the sword back into the scabbard at my hip. This is not the time to argue.

More scorpions slow down and hover over Paige. Four of them grab Beliel around the armpits and legs while two others pull on his belt. They lift him with Paige clinging on top like a princess on a demon palanquin.

I reach for her, wanting to pull her off.

Raffe grabs my hand and begins running after them as the last of the swarm passes by. He swings me up and pulls me into his arms.

I hold him as tightly as my trembling muscles will let me.

A few steps of running and we’re leaping over the cliff into the air.

A
NGELS
IMMEDIATELY
pop up from their prone positions and begin chasing us. Some look stung and sluggish but too many of them manage to shake it off. Raffe’s wings sweep powerfully as we fly above the crashing waves.

Behind us, a horde of angels takes off from the cliff.

The thunderous sound of the scorpion wings gets louder as the swarm twists and doubles back. The scorpions fly so close to us that their insect wings almost brush my head as they dive toward the angels.

My eyes squint against the rush of insectile bodies. Watching over Raffe’s shoulder, my field of vision narrows and widens rhythmically as Raffe beats his wings.

The swarm dips down, colliding with the angels just behind us.

The titanic clash knocks out the angels and all I can see are stingers and insect wings. No angel can penetrate the mass. I imagine this isn’t exactly what Uriel had in mind when he created the scorpions.