He heard the helicopter start up.
His head jerked up as the sound roared through him, spiking his pulse with sudden clarity. Willow was in the helicopter. She was about to fly away from him — he’d probably never see her again. He was on his feet so fast that the table scraped against the floor. Lunging out of the cabin, he ran across the small clearing, skidded his way down the deer path.
“Willow!” he shouted. “Willow!”
The blades thudded in his ears as he burst out into the open. The helicopter had already taken off; it was swinging away over the valley. Alex sprinted after it, jogging to a stop as the wind stirred his hair. It was growing smaller; he couldn’t even see its occupants through the tinted windows. Knowing it was hopeless, he put his hands to his mouth anyway. “WILLOW!”
The helicopter kept going. As he watched, it moved away over the mountains, until it became a dark flyspeck and then vanished from sight, taking his heart with it.
Alex stared after it, shaking. Oh, God. Oh, God, what had he done? Willow had most likely gone off to her death, and he’d actually told her to leave? He hadn’t held her; he hadn’t even told her how much he loved her.
He had let her go alone.
“No,” he said out loud. No, this wasn’t going to happen. This seriously wasn’t going to happen; it wasn’t going to end like this. If she had to do this thing, fine, but she wasn’t going to do it alone, thinking that he hated her. He’d be there — to either help her or die with her, he didn’t care which, as long as he didn’t have to live the rest of his life without her.
Denver by six o’clock tomorrow night. He could make it if he drove nonstop.
Running back to the cabin, Alex hurriedly changed from sweatpants into jeans and threw on his jacket. He grabbed his wallet, the keys to the truck, his pistol and fresh cartridges. He was back in the rocky valley minutes later, flinging himself into the driver’s seat of the truck and starting up the engine. Spinning the wheel, he lurched out of the valley and started down the slope.
This wasn’t going to be like with Jake. He wasn’t going to let down someone else he loved.
FOR A LONG TIME in the helicopter, nobody said anything. Nate sat up front with the pilot, a man wearing sunglasses whose name I didn’t catch, and Sophie sat in the back with me. I was still clutching my bag, staring down at it, my throat so tight that I couldn’t have spoken if I tried. The look on Alex’s face as he told me to leave . . . my shoulders hunched as I held back a sob. When we’d first flown away, I could actually feel my heart breaking, splintering to pieces inside my chest. I couldn’t even be angry with him for not understanding — I knew what this was doing to him. I wanted so badly to tell Sophie and Nate to turn the helicopter around, so that I could go running back to Alex — throw my arms around him, tell him that I’d changed my mind; I wasn’t going to do this after all.
But I couldn’t.
Below us, the mountains were slowly flattening, turning to desert plains. “I’m sorry,” said Sophie, leaning toward me to be heard above the blades. “The two of you are . . . together, aren’t you?” I nodded, wondering if it was still true, and felt tears start to escape. Rummaging quickly in her bag, Sophie handed me a tissue. “You’re doing the right thing, Willow,” she said. “This is our only chance to stop the angels — we’re incredibly grateful to you. I know it must be awful.”
I wiped my cheek with the tissue. “I don’t have a choice,” I got out. “If I had a choice . . . ” I couldn’t finish. Oh, God, Alex and I would be together right now, on our way down to Mexico. My pendant flashed against my sweater; it hurt to even look at it. Sophie stopped talking then, and I was glad of it. Dropping my head back on the seat, I stared at the blurred, watery plains.
A few hours later, we landed in Colorado, at a small, private airport outside of Denver. My legs were stiff as I climbed out of the helicopter; my ears still thudding from the incessant noise. I could see the Rocky Mountains in the distance, their peaks capped with snow. I looked away. I didn’t think I could ever look at a mountain again without hurting.
Nate and Sophie walked me across the pavement, where a car with tinted windows sat waiting for us. I felt like I might fly apart into little pieces, but I knew that I had to at least try to act normal, or else I would just collapse. I cleared my throat. “I thought you were the only two left on Project Angel.”
“We’re being sheltered by another department,” explained Nate. “They don’t know the details, just that we have high-security clearance and our mission’s been compromised.”
He opened the door for me as we reached the car, and I slid into the back, onto soft black leather seats. It reminded me of Alex’s Porsche. Everything around me reminded me of Alex. Nate got in front with the driver; a glass panel separated front from back. I sat tensely with Sophie beside me, hugging my bag and watching as the airport glided away. Soon we were on a highway with green fields to either side, the mountains rising beyond.
Suddenly I looked over at Sophie. “Do you know what’s been happening back in Pawtucket? Is my mom OK?”
I could sense her relief at being able to tell me something good. “Your mom’s fine,” she said. “So’s your aunt.”
My muscles sagged. “Really? They’re OK?”
“Really. I promise.”
Oh, thank God. I let out a deep breath and felt the painful tightness in my chest ease slightly. My mom was all right. She was really all right. “What happened after I left?” I asked.
Sophie took out a pack of cigarettes and lit one, then rolled the window down a few inches. “The Church of Angels influenced the police investigation into your disappearance,” she said, leaning back and blowing out a puff of smoke. “It was closed after only a day or two. Basically, there were a hundred witnesses who said that you ran off with a boyfriend — that you were seen loading a suitcase into his car and kissing him.”
I stared as her words sank in. No wonder Aunt Jo’s vibes had seemed so irritated every time I tried to pick up on them. “But my friend Nina knew that wasn’t true. Didn’t she tell them?”
Sophie smiled. Taking an iPhone out of her bag, she tapped something into it and then handed it to me. I gazed down at the small screen. It had Twitter on it, with a post from Nina: WILLOW FIELDS DID NOT HAVE A BOYFRIEND, END OF STORY! Doesn’t anyone actually CARE that my friend has vanished?
Oh, Nina. I touched the phone as sadness swept through me.
“No one’s listening to her,” said Sophie, taking it back. “From what I’ve heard, your classmates back at Pawtucket High prefer the secret boyfriend story — and there are enough Church members in the Schenectady police force to ensure that no one’s going to look into things further.” She put the phone back into her bag. “It’s probably what’s saved her life so far, to be honest.”
“Alex said that there would be,” I said after a pause. “Church of Angels members on the police force, I mean.”
Sophie’s face was thoughtful as she flicked ash out the window. “He’s quite extraordinary,” she said. “For someone so young, to do the things he’s done. . . .”
“He’s never really been young,” I said softly, looking away. “He never had the chance.” No, but when it was just the two of us, alone together — I pressed my head against the window, seeing his grin, his laughing eyes. And then his face when he had realized I was leaving.
He hadn’t even told me good-bye.
Glancing at me, Sophie went silent; we didn’t speak for a long time. Finally the car took a turnoff, and a few minutes later we were heading down an unmarked drive. A low, tan building rose up from a manicured lawn. There were no signs. Sophie sat up, unfastening her seat belt. “A CIA satellite office,” she explained, though I hadn’t asked. “We can brief you here, and there are showers, beds . . . ”
I nodded dully, gazing at the stark, featureless building. I was so far away from Alex, almost a thousand miles. It felt like every one of them was crushing my heart like a stone.
I got out of the car. We walked up a short flight of cement stairs and then through a pair of gleaming glass doors. Sophie and Nate showed ID at a desk and then ushered me down a carpetless hallway. The floor was so polished, I could see our reflections as we walked; our footsteps echoed around us.
“Here we go,” said Nate, opening a door. We stepped into a small apartment with sofas and chairs. A kitchenette sat at one end, with a breakfast counter and bar stools.
Sophie put her briefcase onto the coffee table. “Would you like to get freshened up?” she asked me. “There’s a shower if you feel like it.” She indicated the hallway past the kitchen.
I was still wearing the sweatpants and T-shirt I had slept in, and the red sweater Alex had given me. An irrational part of me never wanted to take them off, as if doing so would break the last link that I had with him. But it didn’t make any difference, did it? I’d probably never see him again no matter what I wore. The thought lashed at me like a whip. Then I realized that Sophie and Nate were both looking at me, waiting for an answer. “I guess,” I said, my voice barely audible, even to me. “I don’t have any shampoo, though, or —” Memories of the motel room in Tennessee swarmed over me, and I broke off, closing my eyes against the sudden pain. “Sorry,” I said, trying to regain myself. “I don’t have any shampoo.”
Sophie’s brown eyes looked troubled, but she tried to smile. “Don’t worry. Everything you need’s in there.”
In the bathroom I stripped off my clothes, folding them carefully. As I glanced in the mirror, the pendant gleamed on my chest. I touched it, trying to comprehend how fast things had changed. Just hours ago I’d been standing in front of the cabin with Alex’s arms around me, the two of us about to leave together.
I couldn’t hold it in any longer. Turning on the shower so that I couldn’t be heard, I got in and sobbed, hugging myself as the hot water rained down around me. Oh, Alex. Oh, God, please don’t hate me, please don’t. I miss you so much already. I wanted it all with you, everything. I want you here with me now, to hold me and tell me it’s going to be OK, that maybe I won’t actually die when I do this thing. . . .
I cried until there were no tears left. Feeling worse than I had before, I washed my hair and climbed out of the shower. My face in the steamy mirror looked sore and swollen, as if someone had been using it as a punching bag. I stared at myself, not caring. Mechanically, I took the clothes from my bag and got dressed. Underwear, jeans, and the pale-blue T-shirt. I pulled on the red sweater again. It hurt, seeing it, but it would have hurt ten times worse not to wear it. I combed out my wet hair and twisted it up into a knot.
When I went back into the living room, Nate and Sophie were sitting on one of the sofas, talking. They looked up, their faces furrowing in concern as they saw me. Nate went over to the kitchenette and got out some mugs. “Coffee?”
I sat on the edge of the armchair. My head was throbbing. “No — thank you. Just water, please.”
“How about some food?” asked Sophie. She leaned forward with her arms on her knees, watching me. “We’ve got sandwiches, or we could order something else in if you want.”
“I’m not really hungry. Thanks,” I added faintly, as Nate filled a glass with ice water and brought it to me. It was a hexagonal shape, and felt cool and slightly damp against my fingers. I rubbed it against my aching eyes and forehead.
Nate leaned against the sofa. “You should eat something. You need to keep your strength up.”
I stared down at the glass in my hands, swirling the water. “Maybe later.”
Sophie hesitated. “Look, Willow, we’re concerned about you, but we also have to confess to a certain amount of self-interest here. Believe me, I know what you must be going through, but . . . well, to put it bluntly, we need you to be able to function tomorrow.”
Pain kicked through me. I saw the cabin; felt myself falling asleep in the warmth of Alex’s arms. Felt his lips, kissing me awake in the morning. I closed my eyes, longing to say, Sorry, I’ve changed my mind. You’ll have to figure something else out. But it had to be me — I was the only one. Somehow I had to pull myself together enough to do this, or else leaving Alex and breaking both of our hearts had been for nothing.
With a deep, shaking breath, I opened my eyes. I took a sip of water and placed the glass on the table, carefully lining it up with the edge.
“I know,” I said. “I’ll be able to.”
We spent the rest of the day going over the plan. “The celebration will be massive,” said Sophie, spreading out a map of the cathedral on the table. “They’ve got a musical program lined up, a special service — the works. None of that really concerns you, though. You won’t be arriving until just before the gate opens.”
I looked down at the map. There were hundreds of rows of pews and thousands of other seats behind them, stretching up toward the ceiling. At the very front of every- thing, near the pulpit, was a long, wide space. “Is that where the gate’s going to be?” I asked, pointing.
“That’s right,” said Nate, his blue eyes narrowed as he studied the plans. “And there’ll be a Plexiglas barrier between the front row of pews and the gate area, across here.” He sketched a line with his finger. “They were going to have one anyway for crowd control, but it’s a help to us — if people suspect you and get unruly, it’ll at least slow them down a little.”
Sophie was holding a pen; she twiddled it in her hands. “The others in the front area with you will be the acolytes from each state — you’re going to pretend to be one, too — and the preacher, of course. The choir will be up on a second-floor balcony, so they shouldn’t be a problem. But unfortunately there will also be two angels there.”
“At least it’s only two,” said Nate before I could react. He glanced at me. “Raziel is the angel who runs the Church; he’s based in the main cathedral. He’s decided that the celebration will be for humans only and that the angels already in this world will greet the new arrivals later. Really, though, he just wants to be one of the only angels present when the Second Wavers arrive — he’s making a statement about his position here.”
“Him and his sidekick, an angel named Lailah,” said Sophie. “They’re pretty certain to be in the gate area along with you and the others, but hopefully you’ll be able to move fast enough that no one has time to react.”
My throat felt like it had turned to dust as I stared at them. “But . . . won’t one of them notice my aura as I go in?” I asked. I knew that angels in their human form could scan things just like Alex if they tried, and with its silver-and-lavender lights, my aura instantly revealed what I was: half angel, half human.
With a sigh, Sophie tucked a strand of her brown hair back. “Unfortunately, that’s a variable we can’t really control,” she said. “We’ve done our best, though — our contact is going to report your death tomorrow, so hopefully neither of them will be scanning for you.”
I rubbed my hands on my jeans, wondering what Alex would say about all of this. “OK,” I said finally. “What happens next?”
“The gate’s scheduled to open at six o’clock sharp,” Nate continued. “The required energy is all being generated from the other side. At about two minutes to six, a line of acolytes from every state in the country is going to file out, entering from this door here.” He pointed on the map.
“You’re Wisconsin,” said Sophie. Getting up, she went to a small closet and took out a silvery-blue robe with a hood. “We didn’t know whether we’d be able to find you or not, but we had one made in your size just in case. Would you try it on to check?” She held it out to me.
The thought of the robe already being made, sitting in a closet in Colorado waiting for me, sent goose bumps up my arms. Reluctantly, I went over and took it from Sophie; it swung slightly on its padded hanger. When I tried it on, its material was silky-slippery, whispering its way down my body.
Sophie took a step back, her eyes narrowed as she scrutinized me. “Not bad, given that I had to guess at the measureme
nts. A little too long, but I think it’ll be all right once we get some heels on you.”
I stood gazing down at myself. The robe had long sleeves and a high neck; it covered every inch of me. I smoothed my hands down the front of it. It felt awful, like a costume I wasn’t ever going to be able to take off. A chill swept over me as I realized that was pretty much the case. It was likely that I’d die in it.
“The hood was a last-minute addition, once our Church of Angels person agreed to the plan,” said Nate. “It should help stop people from recognizing you.”
“We’ll need to pull your hair back, though,” added Sophie. “I’ve got some bobby pins.”
“All right,” I said. All I wanted to do was get the thing off me. I started to pull it over my head.
“Wait a second — let’s test the angelica,” said Nate. He opened the briefcase, taking out the grayish stone.
“Yes, look,” said Sophie. Reaching inside my left sleeve, she showed me a hidden pouch with an elastic top. Nate came over and handed her the angelica; she tucked it in. I could feel the weight of it, heavy against my arm. “Can you take a few steps, so that we can see what it looks like?” asked Sophie.
I hated this, really hated it. But I’d agreed; I was here of my own free choice — and now I had a job to do. I took a deep breath, then walked across the room and back. The robe billowed about my feet.
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