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As he neared the doors, he heard frantic shouts, amplified through the cathedral sound system: “Somebody do something! That’s Willow Fields! She’s here, she’s here! Somebody stop her!”
I had nearly reached the gate, the air swirling in front of me like a whirlpool — and then in my angel form above, I balked as another angel swooped under me in a harsh flurry of wings. My connection with the angelica flickered and vanished; in my human hands, I felt the stone’s pulsing cease, like a dying heart. No! I stopped in despair, staring upward.
It was Raziel. My father.
Dimly, I was aware of someone bellowing, “Let go of me!” and of Jonah’s voice shouting, “It’s all right! Everybody stay back — keep away from the barrier. The angels are handling this!” In my angel form, I darted this way and that, my wings beating desperately as I tried to dodge Raziel, to get past and touch the stone again. He cut in front of me at every move, his powerful wings glinting a bright, pure white. I could see the gate’s ripples growing stronger. Any moment and it would burst wide open.
“You will not get away with this,” hissed Raziel. Our eyes met. His widened in sudden recognition, and I knew that he’d seen my mother’s face in my own. For a split second, he hesitated — and then another angel appeared, diving in and attacking him from the side. Nate. With a cry of fury, Raziel spun on him.
The two angels fought, their wings in a frenzy. A burst of white light came from above. There was no time to wonder what it was; in my angel form, I swooped down and touched the stone in my human hand. It came to life again, and I lunged the final few steps.
Behind me, I could still hear Jonah shouting frantically, a battering noise, people screaming, “Stop her! Stop them both! He’s on her side!” The gate was starting to spiral open before me, like an old-fashioned shutter. I caught a glimpse of thousands of angels waiting to come through — shining, proud, beautiful.
Dropping to my knees, I thrust the pulsing stone into the gate. The wall of energy leaped like a wave, seething and warping as it fought with itself. I gasped in pain as it pummeled me; I could hardly see my hand in the midst of it. The wall bucked and shuddered as the gate struggled to open; the angels disappeared and appeared again. A deep rumbling noise, a vibration. With a splintering crack, the floor suddenly heaved up under me. I shrieked, lurching sideways. The angelica started to crumble to pieces in my hand as the floor surged again; something fell behind me with a crash. Oh, God, the wall was tearing me apart; I could feel it happening. I gritted my teeth, struggling to hang on. Distantly, I thought I heard someone call my name — and then, with a roar of white noise, everything exploded.
I was tumbling, falling. Pain, so much pain. I tried to cry out but couldn’t.
As everything slowly faded, I thought, Alex.
BURSTING INTO THE CATHEDRAL, Alex had seen a blue-robed girl that had to be Willow running toward the gate while another girl screamed. He pounded forward; his only thought was to get next to her as she reached the gate, to put his arms around her and hold her so that she wouldn’t die alone. He had a blurred impression of a commotion going on to one side: a curly-haired guy in a gray suit, struggling with someone who looked like a preacher; a cluster of shrieking robed girls.
Before he reached the lighted area, Willow stopped short, staring upward. Angels. Stopping, too, Alex quickly drew his gun with the silencer on it and sped through his chakra points. Three angels swam into view: Willow’s own, dodging around a male angel, and higher up, a female angel with a hard, beautiful face, diving straight at Willow’s human form. Alex dropped to one knee, tracked the female, and shot. She vanished into scattered pieces of radiance.
In the audience, people were shouting Willow’s name, thumping against the plastic barrier as they tried to break it down. As Alex burst into the lit area, Nate appeared in his angel form, his wings beating strongly as he attacked the first angel. At the same time Willow’s angel dove toward her and Willow lunged the final few steps; reaching the gate, she shoved her hands in it. The energy warped, leaping wildly — he glimpsed angels waiting to come through. The floor near the gate lurched upward, sending her slipping sideways. Nearing Willow, Alex almost lost his footing as the floor seethed under his feet; he regained himself and sprinted toward her.
“Willow!” he shouted.
The gate exploded open. A wave of energy slammed past in a blinding flash. Crying out, Alex shielded his eyes with his forearm. A confused image: the two angels tumbling, fragmenting into pieces — and Willow, thrown with the blast. There was a wrenching, groaning noise, a crash of dust and cement as a section of the ceiling fell, shattering only a few feet from the huddle of robed girls. Screams. With a spray of spitting sparks, the lights went out. The entire front area fell into shadow, lit only by the dying sunset through the stained-glass windows. As if on cue, hordes of angels began soaring through the open gate and out over the pews, wings and halos shining, glimpses of their own world’s fading sunset just visible through the open gate behind them. A solid wall of sound cracked through the cathedral as the audience began cheering. The people in the first few pews were all staring upward, jumping up and down, Willow completely forgotten as they took in the celestial river flowing overhead.
It had all happened in seconds. Willow. Oh, God, where was Willow? Alex’s consciousness was still hovering above his crown chakra, and in the sudden gloom around him he saw people’s auras come sharply into view, the colored energy fields pulsing with excitement as everyone stared upward. He scanned the front area hurriedly, fear building in him when he couldn’t find Willow.
And then, faintly, he spotted her aura — a silver-and-lavender flutter off to one side, away from the others. Alex plunged through the shadows, stumbling and almost falling on the uneven floor. Finally he reached her. She was lying on her back, her face turned away from him. “Willow!” He dropped to his knees and gathered her up in his arms. “Willow, please be all right — please, please —”
Her head dropped back. She lay unmoving against him, her aura dim, growing dimmer. Alex felt his heart die in his chest as he stared down at her familiar features. No. Oh Jesus, no.
Behind him the crowds continued to cheer, their shouts reverberating through the cathedral like thunder. There was a sudden shimmering — and as Alex looked up he saw that Willow’s angel had appeared over her, so pale that she could hardly be seen. She motioned to Willow and then to him, her eyes pleading . . . and then faded from view. What had she been trying to tell him? What? Alex gazed down at the prone girl in his arms, his pulse thudding. Willow’s aura was scarcely visible now, the barest flicker of light. He hesitated. Not quite knowing why he was doing it, he placed his hand on her heart and closed his eyes.
Please, take my strength, he thought. Whatever I have, take it. . . . Just please live. Please, you’ve got to live. . . .
Desperately, Alex tried to picture his strength and his love for Willow flowing into her, helping her, finding her and bringing her back from wherever she was going. He wasn’t sure how much time passed — he could hear the angels flying overhead; the cheers still sounding. Willow’s body in his arms remained motionless. Finally, dreading what he might see, Alex opened his eyes.
Willow’s aura was gone.
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