Alex gave a short, humorless laugh. He tossed a pebble into the undergrowth. “Yeah. You know, it’s funny, but I’m not as crazy about that idea as I used to be. Willow, if anything ever happened to you —”
I moved closer, leaning against his chest. He put his arm around me; I could feel the tension in his muscles. Fumbling over my words, I said, “Alex, you know I feel the same way about you — I’d die if anything ever happened to you. But if I really can destroy the angels somehow, so that no one else is hurt by them . . . ”
His other arm came up around me, too, holding me tightly. All at once his emotions washed over me, as clearly as my own: fear of losing me, determination that he wouldn’t. And so deep down that he was hardly aware of it himself, he was thinking about his brother. I cringed as sudden images flashed in my head: a boy who looked like Alex, but taller and stockier; he was lying on the rocky ground, staring blindly up at the sky. Alex screaming his brother’s name, his voice ragged with agony. It was his fault, all his fault.
He hardly ever mentioned Jake — I still didn’t know exactly how he had died. And I couldn’t find out this way; it felt like eavesdropping. Closing the images off, I hugged Alex as hard I as could, wishing desperately that I could take it all away — the deaths he’d lived through, the pain he’d suffered.
Slowly, I felt him relax. Pulling away a little, he kissed me and stroked my hair back, dropping his forehead onto mine. “Look . . . this is the best plan I can come up with for now. I’ve got to keep you safe, Willow. If you really are the one to destroy them, then we’ll deal with it when the time comes, OK?” He drew back, searching my face.
“OK,” I said finally. It wasn’t as if either of us even knew why I was supposed to be such a threat. And allowing myself to imagine Mexico with Alex, I liked the sound of it. I liked the sound of it a lot.
Standing up, Alex helped me to my feet. “Come on; we’d better get packing, so we can leave first thing.”
We started across the valley, holding hands, picking our way across the rocky ground in the moonlight. It was so bright that I could see the deer path clearly, snaking up through the rocks ahead of us like a vein of silver. I felt almost unreal as I stared at it. At this time tomorrow, Alex and I would be hundreds of miles away from here; maybe even in Mexico already.
I just hoped that whatever was coming wouldn’t follow us there.
When Alex woke up a few hours later, he could tell that Willow wasn’t lying beside him even before he opened his eyes. He sat up. She wasn’t in the cabin, either; the small space was almost empty, most of their things already packed and loaded in the truck. After her premonition the night before, worry creased through him. Hastily, he yanked on his hiking boots and went outside.
Willow was standing in front of the cabin. She had on her boots, too, and a sweater and sweatpants as she stared down at the mountains below. Her smile was etched with sadness when she saw him. “I just came out to say good-bye.”
Letting out a relieved breath, Alex wrapped his arms around her from behind and looked out at the mountains. They were lit purple and rose with the first faint fingers of dawn, wraiths of mist curling around their bases like smoke.
“We’ll come back someday,” he said.
“I’d like that,” said Willow softly, leaning back against his bare chest. She started to say something else, and then broke off as a distant chopping sound carried toward them on the air. She frowned. “What’s that?”
Alex stiffened. “Oh Christ, it’s a helicopter. Adrenaline surged through him. He ducked back into the cabin and snatched up the rifle; he was back outside in seconds. “Come on!” He grabbed Willow’s hand, and they ran across the clearing, scrabbling up the rocks behind the cabin. The rotor noise grew louder, beating through the air. As they climbed, Alex cursed himself — damn it, why hadn’t they left hours ago, the moment Willow told him her fears? If the truck had broken down, they could have hiked; at least they’d be away from here. Stupidly, he’d thought that they’d have more time.
Willow slipped slightly. He steadied her arm with his, and they kept climbing. She had gone silent, her face pale but resolute. Finally they reached a small, rocky ledge, with the cabin and the valley below it in clear view, looking almost toylike. And there was the helicopter — sleek and black, swinging in the air as it touched down near the truck.
“Oh, no,” whispered Willow.
“Get down,” said Alex quickly. Ignoring the small jabs of rocks against his chest, he lay flat on the ground and sighted along the rifle, peering through the telescopic lens. Willow lay beside him, her eyes fixed fearfully on the scene below.
The helicopter snapped into sharp focus. It was unmarked, with tinted windows. As its blades slowed, a man and a woman climbed out. The woman had shoulder-length brown hair and wore gray pants and a fitted jacket; the man was blond, in jeans and a bulky fisherman’s sweater. Closing his eyes, Alex moved through his chakras, scanning to check out the pair’s energies. They were too far away for him to sense, but when he opened his eyes again, he could see their auras clearly through the lens: the man was an angel; the woman, human. As Alex watched, they started climbing up the deer path toward the cabin. The woman was carrying a briefcase.
“What can you see?” asked Willow in a low voice.
Tersely, he told her. The man and woman had reached the cabin now; they knocked on the door and then looked inside. Knocked on the door. Alex stared through the lens, frowning. Why were they bothering with being polite? They must know that their helicopter had been heard; he’d expect them to go in with all guns blazing. In fact, if they were Church of Angels, he’d expect a small army, not these two. Who the hell were they?
As he watched, the woman took a small handheld amplifier from her jacket. Looking up at the mountains around her, she spoke into it; her voice echoed around them. “Alex Kylar and Willow Fields. Special Agents Kinney and Anderson here, CIA.”
Alex’s shoulders tightened with surprise. “They must be from Project Angel,” he muttered to Willow. Did the woman have angel burn, or was she unaware that her colleague was one of the enemy?
Down below, the female agent was still staring upward, turning slightly as she spoke. Her next words rocked him: “We’re aware that you can read auras. Special Agent Anderson is an angel; he’s on our side. It’s imperative that we speak to you.”
Beside him, Willow stifled a gasp. “Alex, can that be true?” she whispered.
An angel, on their side? Alex took his eye away from the lens and shook his head. “I doubt it. It’s exactly what I’d expect them to say, to lure us down there.”
Willow hesitated. “If I got closer, I could try checking them out psychically.”
At first he thought she meant climbing down again, and then he realized. “He’s an angel; he’d see you.”
“Yes, but I don’t think he could hurt me. I’m not like them — my life force is in my human form, not my angel one. It might be the only way we can find out.”
Alex didn’t like the idea, but he knew she was right. “Yeah, OK,” he said finally. “Be careful.” He put his eye back to the lens; if Willow’s theory was wrong and her angel looked like it was in danger from either of those two, they’d regret it.
Willow shut her eyes, going very still. Gradually, her angel took form above her, its wings gleaming in the rosy morning sun. Flying upward, the angel went into a long, slow glide, heading toward the cabin. Alex crouched over his rifle, watching the man and woman intently as the angel approached, flying over the stream.
“He’s seen me,” murmured Willow beside him.
The blond man’s eyes had widened in surprise as he spotted Willow’s angel; now he was saying something to the woman, his expression urgent. The rifle’s trigger was ready against Alex’s finger as Willow’s angel swooped close and hovered. But the man made no threatening gestures. Instead, he turned to face Willow’s angel, his arms held out from his sides; the woman imitated him, though she clearly didn’t know quit
e where to look.
“They’re both . . . mentally opening themselves to me,” said Willow softly. There was a long silence; the wind rustled around them. Alex glanced at Willow at his side, taking in her furrowed brow. Finally she opened her eyes, looking deep in thought. “Alex, I think they’re what they say they are. They’re both from Project Angel; they believe they’re the only agents left who haven’t been contaminated. He’s an angel, but he really is on our side. He hates what the others have been doing.”
Alex put his eye back to the lens. “Yeah? Ask him what he’s been feeding on,” he said, scanning the angel’s aura again. It looked sated, as if the being had recently indulged.
Willow closed her eyes again. There was a pause, and then Alex saw the man’s lips moving. When Willow opened her eyes again, she looked saddened. “I — I thought the question at him, and he heard me,” she said. “He feeds off people who already have angel burn. He hates doing it, but he says it’s the only way he can survive to try and stop what’s happening.”
“Do you believe him?”
Slowly, Willow nodded. “Yeah, I do,” she said. “I believe both of them.”
Alex looked back at the scene below. Neither the man nor the woman had moved as Willow’s angel hung in the air above them, her wings as white as clouds. He shook his head in disbelief. He had complete faith in Willow’s psychic abilities, but Christ — an angel that actually cared about what it fed on?
“OK,” he said finally, lowering the rifle. “Tell them we’re coming down.”
As they crossed the field back to the cabin, Alex saw that the agents were sitting on the ground outside, and, grudgingly, he respected the fact that they hadn’t invaded their space by waiting inside the cabin. The woman was smoking a cigarette, looking pensive; she stubbed it out when she saw them approach and jumped to her feet. “Mr. Kylar,” she said, walking toward them with her hand out. “Sophie Kinney. This is a real pleasure.”
He shook her hand, feeling nonplussed. She was gazing at him with an expression akin to wonder.
She seemed to catch herself. “Sorry, it’s just that you were something of a legend in the office . . . more than two hundred angels, single-handed. And you must be Willow Fields,” she said, offering her hand to Willow.
“Hi,” said Willow, shaking it. Her elfin face looked worried.
The man came forward; he was taller than Alex, with broad shoulders. His blue eyes had the odd intensity of all angels’ eyes, piercing into Alex’s own. “Nate Anderson,” he said, holding out his hand.
After a beat, Alex took it. “So what made you change sides?” he asked brusquely.
The angel’s expression didn’t change. “I was never on the other side,” he said. “Not all of us feel that we have a divine right to use humans as cattle.”
“We have so much that we need to discuss with you both,” said Agent Kinney. “Please, could we go inside?”
Alex glanced at Willow. “OK?”
She nodded, and Alex opened the door. With the four of them inside, the cabin seemed even smaller than usual; he saw Agent Kinney noticing the narrow bed with its joined-together sleeping bags.
Willow looked at the two chairs. “Here, why don’t the two of you sit at the table, and we’ll take the bed?” she suggested to the agents. Smoothing her hair back, she quickly tied it into a knot.
“Call us Sophie and Nate, please,” said Agent Kinney as she took a seat.
Alex propped his rifle against the wall without responding. He had no intention of getting chummy with these two until he knew what was going on. He grabbed the unpacked T-shirt he’d left out for the day and pulled it on, then sat beside Willow on the bed, leaning against the wall and tapping his fingers on his knee.
“How did you find us?” he asked.
“Remote viewing,” said Nate. “I’ve been trying to get a psychic fix on you for weeks; it’s not easy when there’s no personal attachment. Finally I saw that you were up in the mountains somewhere. I kept thinking it was the Rockies; I wasted almost a week scanning them before moving farther west.”
Willow’s eyes widened. “But if you can do that, then the other angels can, too.”
“It’s a specialized skill, but I’m sure they’re trying,” agreed Nate. “You’re just lucky that we found you first.”
“We’re lucky,” said Sophie. “Though it would have saved a lot of time if we hadn’t lost you outside of Phoenix.”
“That was you following us on the interstate?” asked Willow.
Nate nodded. “I’ve got contacts in the Church of Angels; I heard through the grapevine that a couple of devotees almost got you in Texas — for a while after that, we were only a few steps behind you.”
“Kudos to both of you, by the way, for keeping alive so far,” put in Sophie. “It’s quite an achievement.”
Willow shook her head. “It’s all been Alex,” she said. “I’d have been dead the first day if it wasn’t for him.”
“You saved me, too,” said Alex quietly, thinking of their battle with the angels in New Mexico. Their gaze met, and then he turned back to the agents. “How long has Project Angel been infiltrated?”
“About four months,” said Nate. “Some of the agents in the field had already died or been subject to angel burn by that point. The rest were dispatched by the angels or are now missing, presumed dead.”
Alex had known it already, but it was like a hard kick to the chest anyway. He saw Willow dart him a concerned look, her eyes full of sympathy. “Right,” he said finally. “So how come I wasn’t dispatched?”
Nate gave a sad smile. “Because you were the best. So the angels decided to use you for their own purposes — doing away with traitors like me.”
Alex’s spine straightened as he came away from the wall. “What?”
“That’s right,” said Sophie. “For the past four months, every hit you’ve done has been an angel sympathetic to humans, who was working to help save them.”
“You’re insane,” he said shortly. “I watch them, remember? Every single one was about to feed.”
Nate shook his head. “No, they were going to do something called marshaling, where they place psychic resistance into a human’s aura. It can act as a protection against feeding angels. In the right conditions, it can also be passed on to other humans through auric contact — almost like a virus, but with positive effects.”
Alex’s mind raced. He thought back to his last hit before he’d received the order for Willow: T. Goodman, approaching the drunken businessman on the sidewalk. Don’t be afraid. I have something to give to you.
He swore. Distantly, he felt Willow take his hand; he gripped her fingers.
Sophie crossed her legs. “You had no way of knowing, of course; you were just doing your job — excellently as always, I might add.”
He felt like throwing something at her. “Great, so there’s this thing called marshaling, and no one even bothered to tell me about it? So that I could maybe not kill angels who are on our side? Jesus! How exactly did you guys manage to lose control of things so badly? No, scratch that — how did you even get your jobs in the first place?”
Sophie sat impassively. “The angel spotters were aware of this information for the past year, which is how long Nate’s been with us. None of the hits authorized by us since that time were against sympathetic angels. And probably very few prior to that; there just aren’t that many of them.”
Alex let out a breath. Willow was still holding his hand; the steady warmth of her touch calmed him somewhat. “OK,” he said after a pause. He squeezed Willow’s hand then released it and scraped his face. “Sorry.”
Sophie inclined her head. “If this news didn’t bother you, then you wouldn’t have been fit for the job in the first place.”
Nate leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees. “Look, we need to deal with what’s going on right now, not with the past. If we don’t act quickly, things are about to get a whole lot worse. Which brings us to the
next point.” He paused as his gaze went to Willow, taking her in. “So, it really is true that you’re a half angel,” he said.
“Yes, it is.” Her voice was quiet, steady. Remembering her anguish in the desert the month before, Alex felt a rush of love and admiration for her.
“I knew it already, but actually seeing it for myself is . . . ” Nate trailed off. “You should be impossible, you know.”
Willow smiled slightly. “Here I am anyway.”
“Do you know why the angels think you can destroy them?” he asked.
“No. I don’t have any idea. Before all of this, I didn’t even know that there were angels, much less that I was a half one.”
“Well, I know a little more than you, then,” said Nate. “Among the angel community, the consensus is that Paschar’s vision had something to do with the gate.”
“Start at the beginning,” interrupted Sophie, her crossed leg jiggling.
“Right,” said Nate, linking his fingers together. “The first thing you have to understand is that most angels in this world are here because of something called the Crisis. Our world is similar to yours, except that there we can feed off the ether itself. Being a predator isn’t our natural state.”
“Yeah? You give a great imitation of it,” said Alex before he could stop himself. Willow gave him a glance.
Nate shrugged. “It’s true, there have always been angels who liked to come across here and feed off humans. They liked the buzz, the excitement of it. But their numbers were relatively few, overall. You’ll just have to trust me when I say that most angels had no interest in it. However, then the Crisis came — though no one knows why, our ether started to fade. Currently there’s no longer enough energy left to support all of us, and it’s getting worse. Soon our world won’t be able to sustain any of us at all.”
Alex listened intently. They’d been right, then — something had gone wrong in the angels’ world, bringing them to this one.
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