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She nodded, and Alex took off. To his relief, the door was unlocked. He slipped quickly through it.
Inside it was cool, dimly lit. He was in a long, plain corridor that reminded him again, strongly, of the Denver Church of Angels – it was exactly like the hallway he’d gone careening down to reach Willow when she’d attempted to stop the Second Wave.
Miranda was beside him again. “This way,” she said, starting silently down the corridor. “It’s different from how the other gates were – Raziel’s the only one who can sense it’s there. ” They came to another door; she waited as Alex opened it.
“But what about the timings?” she asked suddenly, peering up at him.
“What timings?” Alex put his hand on the pistol under his waistband as they entered an open space larger than two football fields, blindingly bright. Tens of thousands of seats wrapped around it; overhead, a high, arched ceiling seemed both transparent and solid – one moment plain white, the next showing dark clouds still spitting down rain.
Alex’s jaw tightened. Was it like that from the outside? All the angels had to do was fly over, and they’d figure out he was here in two seconds.
They were on a broad, raised platform. Though everything looked sleekly modern, there was a sense of immense age.
“Raziel always worries about the timings,” Miranda explained. “I mean, he did the last few times he was here. I thought it must be hard to get them right. ”
Alex shook his head; he didn’t have a clue what she was talking about. “I’ll just have to take my chances. ”
He saw to his alarm that his foot was bleeding; he’d left a smudged red trail all the way across the platform. He quickly shrugged out of his jacket and yanked off his damp T-shirt, ignoring the jab of bruised ribs. He bent down hastily, mopping up the blood, and then wrapped the shirt around his foot. He wasn’t going to lead them right to the gate, not if he could help it.
“All right, well…” Miranda bit her lip, and Alex realized she was reluctant to give away Raziel’s secret. She motioned towards a large twisting sculpture near the edge of the platform. “It’s very small, right under that first curve. Like a keyhole, but smaller. ”
Alex lifted his consciousness through his chakras and probed. Apprehension touched him. “I can’t feel it. ”
“No, I told you – Raziel keeps it hidden. But it’s there. ”
Alex took her word for it; he didn’t have a choice. Pinpointing his consciousness again, just like he’d done all those weeks ago in his father’s house, he plunged it, needle-like, under the sculpture’s silver curve. Not the right place. He tried again. Not there either.
Suddenly Alex’s senses jolted with the dark feel of angel energy close by. They’d found him, hundreds of them – and judging from the distance, they were only a block away, heading straight for the Coliseum’s rear entrance.
Forcing himself to stay focused, Alex kept trying, aware of the seconds rushing past. The angels had almost reached the door now. He wasn’t going to make it.
He ignored the thought; at the same moment, he found a slight give in the ether. There. He shoved his consciousness through; this time the energy on the other side felt calm – homelike. Working fast, he started widening the hole.
He could feel that Raziel’s gate was much more efficient than Cully’s; to his relief, he had it open in seconds. Through it he could see only darkness.
He heard the distant sound of shouting. The angels were through the Coliseum door, streaming down the long hallway – they’d be here any moment. Alex turned quickly to Miranda, not knowing how to say thank you. He didn’t try. He reached for her hands; his own went through them, but he held on anyway, letting her tingling energy rush through him.
“You asked who I am,” he said hurriedly. “My name’s Alex; I’m in love with your daughter. And I promise you – I swear to you – I will make her happy for the rest of her life. ”
Miranda looked close to tears, insubstantial at the edges again. “Thank you, Alex,” she whispered. “And when she tries to link with the energy field – she needs to do it in Pawntucket. There’s a place there where she can get through. It’s—”
Alex’s head jerked up as shouts reverberated just on the other side of the door.
“I’ve got to go,” he said in a rush. “You’d better go too, just in case. ” He hastily kissed Miranda’s fading cheek, his lips brushing air – and then hurled himself through the opening.
Alex’s muscles were tight, ready for the same screaming agony as last time. It didn’t come. In a smooth, seamless motion, he was suddenly lying on a floor in the darkness, wincing only at the pain in his ribs. Silence – the gate had closed once more to a tiny pinprick behind him.
He sat up slowly, listening to the hard beating of his heart. There was no other sound. Why had it been so much easier coming through from the angels’ world? Maybe it was just that Cully hadn’t really known what he was doing.
Whatever; Alex wasn’t complaining. As he struggled to his feet, he could see a faint light: plastic runners darting along the floor. He was in the Denver Church of Angels cathedral, in an alcove formed by two pillars near the main doors. Down below, past aisles and aisles of seats, was where Willow had attempted to stop the Second Wave.
Willow. He let out a breath, hardly able to believe that he was really back – that with luck, he’d see her again in just a few days. Then, remembering what Miranda had said about Willow going to Pawntucket, he frowned, urgency pulsing through him.
A green Exit sign cast a glow over two tall silver doors. A trip alarm sat on top of them, its electronic eyes gleaming. Alex reached into his pocket for his penknife and craned upwards, slicing neatly through the alarm’s wire.
He swung open the door and stepped outside. Broad white steps shone in the moonlight. Faint unease stirred in Alex as he jogged down them, disregarding his injured foot. Moonlight? It hadn’t even been dark yet when he’d left the angels’ world. From out of nowhere came the memory of when the Third Wave had arrived – the glimpse of twilight through the gate while here it had been afternoon.
Raziel always worries about the timings now, Miranda had said.
Okay, so time in the angels’ world was a few hours off from their own. Interesting, but not hugely relevant. He had to steal a car and get to Pawntucket as soon as possible.
He’d head north-east, he decided, to the main highway. There’d be plenty of Eden staff driving along that route – he’d steal a vehicle from one if it was the last thing he ever did.
Hang on, babe, I’m on my way, he thought as he jogged across the dark parking lot. Pawntucket was almost two thousand miles away, across uncertain roads. But he’d get there, no matter what… And when he did, he knew that no power on earth would ever separate him from Willow again.
THE 4 X 4 TRUNDLED steadily over the empty road.
When we’d left the lodge three mornings ago, I’d felt beyond relieved to see the blue skies overhead. Only about six inches of snow lay on the ground. The truck could handle that, if the good weather held.
Two weeks, I kept thinking. Mentally counting back, I’d left the shopping mall nine days ago. If the angel I’d fought in the base corridor had been accurate, we still had five days before Raziel attacked.
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