Angelfire (Dark Angel)

by Hanna Peach

  Decide what is right, then fight for it. Alyx lets these words sink in. A soft radiance builds in her as she finds that these words ring true. She finds herself smiling. Israel has surprised her. She has been teaching him all afternoon. Who thought that he could teach her too?

  “What do you feel is right?” she asks.

  He holds her gaze and his face takes on a seriousness. “Come here,” he says, holding open an arm to her.

  Alyx feels her heart begin to thud in her chest. She moves towards him slowly. His palm brushes across her back and he pulls her alongside him. She sinks against his chest, into the crook of his arm, the rest of her body fitting against him. All the air leaves her lungs. She feels him exhale as well. Overwhelming release. Peace.

  His fingers trace her shoulder.

  His voice is so quiet she barely hears him, “Why do you fit so perfectly here?”

  When I was made I was carved out from the space between your arms.

  Instead she says, “I don’t know.”

  Later while Israel sleeps, Alyx pins a large map of Saint Joseph on a wall of one of the theatre dressing rooms. She picks up the top paper from the stack of newspapers on one of the tables, ‘Museum robbery: meteorite stolen’ splashed across the front cover. She opens up the first page.

  Alyx spends the next few hours scanning the papers for news stories on recent deaths, missing persons or increased crime sprees. She dots the map of Saint Joseph with little pins hoping to discern some kind of pattern.

  When Israel wakes he finds her studying the map. “What are you doing?”

  “I think there’s a den here and here.” Alyx runs her finger around two sections of an area of Saint Joseph called the Valley.

  “So we check it out tonight?”

  Alyx drops to the ground and sweeps her leg out, knocking his feet out from under him. He lands on his back, letting out a groan.

  “Jesus, what the hell was that for?”

  “I’m making a point,” says Alyx standing over him. “See, you’re not even close to being ready.”

  “But I never expected you to just knock me over like that?”

  “Lesson number seven, expect the unexpected. Period.”

  Alyx puts her hand out to help him up. Israel clasps her hand. A wicked grin flashes over his face. Before she can react Israel is pulling her down on top of him.

  “Lesson number eight,” he says, his fingers finding her sides. Alyx starts to giggle. “I am stronger than you and you are ticklish.”

  “Don’t make me...” Alyx gasps between laughter.

  “Don’t make me what? Don’t make me what?” He rolls himself over her, using his body to pin her down as his fingers poke at her. “I say there’s nothing much you can do to stop me.”

  She pushes against him, laughing. “Stop it.”

  His breath is hot in her ear. “Say you give in to me. Say it.”

  “No.”

  “Okay. You asked for it.” He collects both her wrists in one large hand and brings them up above her head, holding them down to the floor. Her side is stretched out and completely exposed to him.

  “No, please.” The fingers of his free hand find her skin. Alyx shrieks and her body thrashes against him. “Please.”

  “Say it.” He is laughing along with her.

  “Never.” This defiance unleashes another torrent of tickles. She laughs and struggles and laughs until she can’t take it anymore. “Okay. I give in.”

  Mercifully, his fingers stop. “I knew you would eventually.”

  Alyx becomes aware of his body along hers. He hangs over her. Covering her so completely. She shouldn’t be this close to him. Look away. Why can’t she look away?

  Alyx takes a sharp inhale of breath as her stomach clenches. What is this fire in her belly?

  No. Forbidden.

  “Israel, you’re crushing me.”

  “Oh. Sorry.” He rolls off her.

  Alyx feels a release, like she can breathe again. At the same time there is a strange sense of loss, like a part of her has stopped breathing.

  They lie there side by side, not touching, staring at the ceiling.

  Alyx clears her throat trying to smooth out the lump that has appeared there. “Remember when you appeared in my room that night?”

  “You mean when you appeared in my room?”

  “My room, your room. Tell me what you were doing before. Exactly, step by step.”

  “Well, I had just gotten into bed. I was thinking about you for some reason.”

  “What were you thinking?”

  “I had this weird thought, that if I wanted to see you badly enough that I could just want you into being.”

  “That’s it?” Alyx looks over to him. He is still looking at the ceiling.

  “Yes. I wanted to see you again badly enough,” a small smile plays at the corner of his lips, “and you appeared.”

  “That’s all you did?”

  He nods.

  “Wait here.” Alyx springs up and runs out of the room.

  “Where are you going?” he calls after her.

  Alyx lies down in the middle of the stage of the main theatre and closes her eyes. She begins to picture Israel’s face.

  Slowly the feelings start to trickle to the surface of her heart, the feelings that have been building from within the depths.

  No. A part of her resists. A panic overtakes her. The feelings shut away. Israel’s face seems to fade in her mind. She opens her eyes.

  He’s not there.

  Just let go. She closes her eyes again and pictures Israel’s face in her mind. She remembers how his scar dances when he talks, how it whitens when he smiles. A want starts to clench at her chest. This time she lets it. She remembers how, when she first arrived at the theatre, he put his arm around her, pulled her in close. How he seemed to know what she needed. How he pretended not to notice the mess of her hair and let her cry without making her feel weak. Her want becomes a deep ache.

  “Hello there,” his voice blows softly across her neck and sends shivers down her spine. Alyx hears herself giggle and she opens her eyes. Israel’s ghostly figure is lying next to her on the stage.

  It worked.

  Over the next few weeks Alyx and Israel fall into a routine. Israel moves with less stiffness as his muscles grow used to the daily stresses of their training sessions. Metallic clangs ring out through the theatre as they fight across the stage, in the fly loft and amongst the rigging, over the audience chairs, across the open rooftop.

  When they aren’t training they are talking. Alyx doesn’t know why but time seems to sift away while they are together.

  This afternoon they are lying on the roof of the theatre, on a blanket. Alyx has found herself in the nook of Israel’s left arm again, with her head resting against his chest.

  “I always end up here,” she says.

  “You belong here.” The fingers of his other hand trace her left arm, the outlines of her marks. “Tell me about your tattoos.”

  “Oh.” Alyx bites her lip and plays with his collar with her fingers. “They’re not really that interesting.”

  She can sense that Israel is watching her. “You don’t want to tell me about them. Why?”

  “That’s not true,” she lies. So far she has taken care not to talk too much about bloodink with him. He’s mortal. You can’t give away our secrets.

  Mostly, she is scared. Scared of how he will react. Would he be disgusted, knowing that she has someone else’s blood tattooed on her skin? Would he be scared of her, scared of what she could do with the bloodink magic? Would he think her a freak?

  It’s safer not to say anything.

  Chapter 40

  Alyx and Israel stand round a dark corner watching the street, semi-lit by old fashioned wrought-iron street lamps, each lamp giving off a misty glow in the light drizzle. At this time of night all the shops along this strip are shut up and dark. Nothing moves.

  Alyx appraises the entrance to Stutler’s,
the antiques store across the road. “Are you sure this is a good idea? A store specifically selling weapons would have a much wider range of stock.”

  “Yes but their security would be epic. We wouldn’t last three seconds in there without alerting half the city and being caught on camera. Didn’t you want to keep a low profile?”

  “Yes, but an antiques store?”

  “Where do you think I got my last knife from? Trust me. I was in Stutler’s just the other day. They have a couple of antique daggers and swords in good condition. They just got in a beautiful golden willow leaf sabre from China. You can have that one if you want.”

  Dammit. How did he know this would sway her?

  “Won’t they have an alarm system as well?”

  “Only a basic one. Nothing I can’t handle.”

  Alyx nods. “Okay then. It looks clear. Let’s go.”

  At the front of Stutler’s, Alyx stands on watch as Israel kneels at the door. Israel pulls a small piece of foil from his pocket and slips it between the frame and the door. He then turns his attention to the lock. After a few minutes Alyx hears a click.

  “After you,” he says pushing the door open.

  Inside the shop is a jumble of items, like a closet stuffed full of toys. Chandeliers and ornate lights hang from the ceiling like a canopy of dead branches. Even the walls have no respite, tiled haphazardly with framed letters, gilded mirrors, hand-painted plates, and protruding Victorian lamps.

  “The counter up the back,” Israel says as he shuts the door behind them. A circle of light appears as he flicks on his torch.

  Alyx moves towards the back of the store. She has to step around the items that protrude into the skinny path through the shop; an old wooden dressmaker’s doll with chipped white paint, half-open drawers and dressers overflowing with beads and pearls and pocket watches, even a washed-up old buoy painted with ‘slow 5 knots’ down the side.

  Just as Israel has promised, encased in glass, three double-edged daggers with black and engraved-metal handles, and a sword with a pearl hilt and a silver birds-head as the rear quillon.

  “No sabre,” Alyx says. “Perhaps it has been sold?”

  Israel nods towards the back wall. There is the sabre cradled on two hooks with matching scabbard above it, displayed against black velvet in its own glass cabinet. It is stunning. The intricate golden vines burst around the hilt and curl part-way up the thin sharp blade. In a bound, Alyx is over the counter and standing before it, fingers pressed against glass. Israel gets to work on unlocking the cases.

  Within minutes they are fully armed and heading back towards the front door. Through the front glass Alyx catches sight of movement on the street. Her heart near stops.

  “Turn off your torch,” she hisses.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Turn off your torch dammit.”

  Alyx recognized his lumbering swagger before she saw his face.

  Yael is walking on the pavement across the street with Do’hann at his side. Israel’s torchlight is glinting off the store front glass.

  Israel flicks off the torch just as Do’hann tugs at Yael’s arm.

  “Duck.” Alyx drops to the cold floor. Israel drops too.

  Yael and Do’hann are now pressing their faces against the glass storefront across the road. Hopefully they won’t realize that the torchlight had actually come from across the road.

  “Friends of yours?”

  “Seraphim warriors. Remember I was telling you about our Winter Games? They’re the ones I beat.”

  Israel whistles low. “Extra incentive to hunt you down, then.”

  “And it looks like they’ve figured out we’re not in there.” Her skin electrifies as she sees Yael and Do’hann turn from the glass of the jewelers to look around the street.

  “Why don’t we just fight them?”

  “If we have to fight them, we’ll lose.”

  “So what are we going to do?”

  A very good question. Alyx’s mind is whirring. What are they going to do? If they stay very still they may not be seen, Yael and Do’hann may just keep walking. But if Yael and Do’hann cross the street they’ll be seen through the store glass and they’ll be trapped.

  Back door.

  Alyx remembers seeing a back door to the store near where the sabre had been displayed. They could try escaping through the back door. But their movement might catch either Yael or Do’hann’s attention. Even so, they may have a head start advantage. But if Israel can’t pick the lock in time they will be trapped.

  Alyx bites her lip. So much riding on this decision.

  “Alyx, what are we going to do?”

  Yael and Do’hann are now looking across the road to the antiques store. They can’t afford to wait any longer.

  “When I count to two I need you to run like hell towards the back door. One.” Alyx flips herself up over Israel’s head. “Two.” She hurtles herself feet first through the air towards the back door, praying that this will work. She picks up speed as she flies across the store. Israel is close behind her, dodging the antiques in his way.

  Her feet crash against the wooden door and it brakes on its hinges. Alyx falls into the small street behind the store. Splinters of wood have left cuts on her legs. Alyx ignores them. They’ll heal.

  She turns to see Israel leaping over the counter and out the door. He tumbles to the gravel and rolls to his feet.

  Through the broken door Alyx can see Yael at the front of the store. Their eyes lock for a split second. He blows her a snarled kiss then the glass shatters at his fists.

  “Run.”

  Israel and Alyx tear down the dirty back street, Alyx flying over the gravel like an arrow, Israel running and leaping in bounds alongside her.

  “This way,” Israel says as he swings off a lamppost around a bend into a dark alley, a thin slit between taller buildings, sheets draping above them like ghosts in the night breeze.

  A figure drops to the exit of the alley in front of them.

  Alyx halts mid-air and Israel skids to a stop. They turn to escape back down the other way. Yael steps forward into the street, blocking their path.

  “Dammit,” says Alyx, drawing her sabre and dagger.

  “Well, well, well,” Yael calls. “Looks like our lucky night Do’hann.”

  “Yep,” Do’hann calls back. “The Michaelea traitor with a mortal.”

  “I’ll hold them off for as long as I can,” Alyx hisses at Israel. “You run and keep running.”

  “I’m not leaving you,” he says looking around him. “There must be another way.”

  “If you stay they’ll take you, and whatever destiny you are supposed to fulfill, won’t happen.”

  Do’hann and Yael are closing in on them, taking their time while their taunts fly back and forth, their swords drawn.

  “I have an idea.” Israel bends down low out of her periphery.

  “Dammit Israel.” Alyx moves in front of him, trying to shield him, holding her weapons in front of her, a blade pointed at each approaching warrior.

  “She looks like she’s trying to protect that mortal.” Do’hann laughs.

  But Yael doesn’t. Yael’s face hardens and he advances quicker, all his mocking gone. Yael knows something about Israel, Alyx realizes.

  She hears a scraping of metal from where Israel is crouched. “What are you doing?”

  “At two jump back. One.”

  “But―.”

  “Two,” his voice echoes away.

  Echoes? Alyx thinks as she jumps back. The ground isn’t there to catch her.

  Chapter 41

  Alyx falls for another second before her feet splashes into muck. She is in a dark tunnel under the street having fallen through a manhole. Through the circle above Alyx can hear the shouting getting louder.

  “Follow me,” says Israel.

  They flee, his torchlight flickering in front of them, away from the voices that yell after them. They turn down a tunnel, the walls moist and furr
y, and down another. Rodents scuttle out of their path as they pass.

  Whoomp. A pulse moves past them. It feels like a cold air rushing against her skin. Then the air rushes back.

  “What was that?” Israel cries.

  “AirWhisperer. They’re using magic to track us.”

  Israel pulls her down another tunnel. Then another.

  Whoomp.

  The voices become louder, echoing off the tunnel walls behind them.

  “It’s no use Israel. We can’t outrun Air.”

  Israel pulls her down another tunnel.

  Whoomp.

  He halts. There is a round metal grate in the wall. “What if we go down there?”

  Alyx nods. “We have to try it.”

  She holds his torch as Israel starts to yank against the metal bars. It’s not budging.

  “Hurry.”

  Israel puts one foot against the wall and tugs again. There is a groan as the grate pulls away from the rusty frame.

  “Go.”

  Alyx dives into the opening, Israel behind her. She moves along the skinny tunnel, dimly lit by the circle of torchlight.

  “Will the Airmagic be able to find us through here?” he whispers.

  “Once they realize that we’re not in the main tunnel anymore, they’ll start exploring these smaller tunnels with Air. We’re not safe yet.”

  The light starts to flicker. The torch is dying.

  Thoughts of being lost under here in the dark flash through her mind. She shudders. “We need to get out of here.”

  “There are disused subway-lines under here as well. The sewers connect to them. One of the train lines run under West End with an exit to the street right near the theatre. I’m pretty sure this tunnel will lead us to the subway lines and we can make our way to West End from there, but we have to be really quiet.”

  “How do you even know where we’re going?”

  “I used to live on the streets, remember?”