Angel Fire

by L. A. Weatherly

Page 99

 

  I cleared my throat. “It’s okay, I think you get a special pass for stealing books. From what I hear, it’s something book lovers would understand. ” It felt like we were both treading water to stay above the surface, avoiding all the topics that might drag us under. I pulled out the file and laid it on the sleeping bag. “What is this place?” I gazed into the shadows beyond the candlelight. “Is it just abandoned?”

  “No, someone owns it. ” Seb bent down and snapped a candle from the floor; it came away like a small tree, with waxy roots spreading out. “Come, I’ll show you. ”

  Our footsteps echoed on the concrete. I couldn’t hold back a gasp as the first face appeared from the gloom. Statue after stone statue stood scattered throughout the warehouse, like some weird, silent cocktail party. Propped up against the walls were several huge stained-glass windows – the candlelight flickered across their panels, sending a rainbow of colours sparking around us.

  “Is this all from a church?” I touched the cold stone face of the nearest statue: a man in robes, his expression kindly – as if he might have some answers to everything that was going on, if only he could speak.

  Seb was beside me, holding up the candle. He nodded. “Even before the Church of Angels really got started here, a few smaller churches were taken over by angel-worshippers. I think someone must have stored these things here then, to keep them safe maybe. But they seem forgotten now. ” He lifted a shoulder. “Perhaps whoever stored them died, or got angel burn. ”

  As I let my hand fall from the statue, I saw a small room built against the opposite wall. “What’s in there?”

  “Just an office,” said Seb. “There’s a bathroom, too,” he added. “It used to have running water; maybe it still does. ”

  “Really?” I could hear the relief in my voice. “Can I borrow the candle?”

  The black shadows of the bathroom shrank away as I entered with the candle. By some miracle, there was still running water, and even a little toilet paper. A few minutes later, I stood washing my face in the tiny sink as I tried to get the worst of the grime and the smeared eye make-up off. Gazing at my candlelit image, for a second all I could think of was that slumber party game, Bloody Mary. A chill prickled over me. I tried to push it away, drying my hands as best I could on the jacket.

  When I returned to the sleeping bag, I found Seb examining the file in the glow of the candlelight. I put my candle with the others, then kicked off my sandals and sat next to him, curling my legs under me as I looked down at the Spanish words. The document he was reading seemed to be an email printout.

  “Is there anything there?” I asked.

  Seb nodded, rubbing his jaw as he turned a page. “Yes, a lot. We’ve got what Alex wanted, and there’s more too – floor plans, information about the reception. Even the code for the stairwell door. ” He closed the file and put it to one side. “Your instincts were very good, querida. ”

  I held back a shiver as I remembered the church office – the banging noise that I’d completely disregarded. “So were yours, to get us out of there in time. ”

  Seb looked down, and I knew he didn’t want to think about the cathedral any more than I did. His hand tightened to a fist, tapping against the sleeping bag. “Willow, I’m sorry,” he said after a moment. “When we met that man in the marketplace—” He broke off; I could sense his turmoil. “I haven’t let anyone get to me like that in so long. I should have just gotten both of us away from there—”

  “Seb, no, stop,” I said, touching his arm. “I know how hard it is for you, being back here. I could feel it, every step of the way. ”

  “It doesn’t matter,” he said shortly. “I should have better control than to almost get in a fight with some cabrón who means nothing – especially when I’m taking you through Tepito. ”

  I shifted on the sleeping bag, watching him. “So. . . what did he say?”

  Seb went silent. One of the candle flames flickered. “He asked if I’d like to share you,” he said finally. “And the way he looked at you. . . I don’t think I’ve ever wanted to hurt someone so much in my life. ”

  “I’m glad you didn’t,” I said softly. Not that I’d care if anything had happened to that pile of sleaze, but to Seb. . . I swallowed. “Anyway, don’t blame yourself – we were both upset. After what happened—”

  I stopped, my chest tightening as I saw it all again in gut-wrenching detail. I couldn’t hold it back any longer. A trembling breath that was weirdly like a laugh escaped me. “Oh, god, Seb. They’re supposed to want to help people. . . ”

  His throat moved; he took me in his arms without speaking. Burying my head against his shoulder, I clung to him and wished I could wipe out everything we’d seen. I knew I’d never be able to, never – even the tiniest details would be with me for ever. The preacher staring at the ceiling with his one eye flashed through my mind, and I wondered dully why I wasn’t crying.

  “Most of the Crusaders can’t have known about it,” said Seb roughly. “It had to be a – a smaller group who planned it, working on their own. ”

  I knew he was probably right; it didn’t help much. “What’s the use of being psychic, if we can’t stop something like that?” My voice sounded distant, as if it was coming from somewhere outside of myself.

  “I know,” whispered Seb against my hair. I could feel his pain; it was as helpless as my own. “But that’s not how it works; you know it’s not. ”

  Inside of me, my angel was straining for his. I let her fly free, and Seb’s angel was there almost immediately – radiant and powerful, his beautiful face etched with our shared sadness.

  The light from our ethereal bodies cast a tender glow in the warehouse as we hovered, facing each other. Somehow, just seeing Seb’s angel was a balm; it soothed the very core of me in a way that I didn’t even understand.

  His eyes on mine, Seb’s angel reached out his hand. And this time I didn’t hesitate – I stretched out my own angelic hand to him.

  Our fingers touched in a burst of light. I caught my breath at the sensation, watching in wonder as our hands merged in a blue-white glow. The details of the cathedral attack mercifully receded, leaving just Seb and me, and this feeling that was like nothing on earth – having no boundaries at all between us; our energy turned into one.

  This is way too intimate, I thought belatedly. But I couldn’t have taken my hand away for anything. Seb’s angel and I gazed at each other in awe; slowly, he stroked his hand up my arm and, without quite knowing how, I found myself doing the same to him – feeling the slight resistance against my fingers as they caressed their way through his energy; the warm shiver in me as he explored my own.

  In our human forms below, Seb and I had both gone very still. He pulled away a little as his gaze searched mine, the golden flecks in his hazel eyes clear in the candlelight. I was trembling. I could feel the depth of his love for me; how much he longed to hold me in a way that wasn’t brotherly at all. Somewhere far away where I couldn’t face it was the pain over Alex – but right now there was only Seb, my friend Seb, who I cared about so much that it almost hurt, and whose angel-hands were making me feel things I’d never felt before in my life. In that moment I didn’t know whether I loved him only as a friend or something more – I just knew that I never wanted him to stop touching me, never.