Page 12

Every step we take through the foyer feels like a mistake. The word traitor echoes in my mind with each one.

I try to rush him through as quickly as possible, giving him less of an opportunity to snoop around. Though I’m sure if he truly wanted to, he could kill me right now and burn this place to the ground.

It’s not like the Agency is his enemy; we don’t hunt angels. At least, we haven’t for years. We just watch over them, and witness their acts of unspeakable violence.

At night the Agency is shrouded in darkness, deafeningly silent. They wanted the building to be as secure as possible. It was built without windows and with the best security system in the world. Though without any moonlight pouring in through windows, the only brightness comes from the dim, flickering florescent lighting above. It casts unnatural shadows over the office, distorting chairs into haunting figures, making things appear as if they’re moving even though they’re not.

The archangel stays almost uncomfortably close behind me, so much so that I can hear his breathing.

“Why are you out after dark?”

His voice breaking the silence causes me to jump.

“Huh?”

My thoughts cloud over his question. Part of me is glad to have the protection of the archangel, but the soldier inside me is acutely aware of the danger he poses. Not just to the security of the AIA, but to me.

“I would have thought that an AIA agent knows better than to venture out after curfew. So why did you?”

I turn to face him, expecting a smug look to stain his features, but he shows no expression other than a raised brow when I stop to look at him. I consider lying or even telling him that it’s none of his business, but I answer before I can stop myself. “My partner didn’t make it home before dark. I’m going to find him.”

His face softens for the first time, as if he almost pities me. “You know he’s probably —”

“He’s not dead,”

I snap, cutting him off. “I’m going to find him.”

I turn and walk to my desk, letting that be the end of that conversation. I don’t need his opinion, not when he’s one of the monsters likely to be responsible for Jeremy’s death. If he’s dead.

I sit and switch on the computer, doing the same to my phone and preparing for an influx of phone calls from my friend. The first thing I open on the desktop is the camera feed from outside Jeremy’s law firm. The archangel can wait – first I need to know what happened to the man I love.

The archangel lets out an exasperated sigh, as if he wants to remind me that he’s here and he’s more important than I am.

I don’t give him the chance. “You’re going to have to wait your turn.”

I survey the building from four different angles. Jeremy works in a small non-profit firm downtown. It’s one of the things I love about him – his capacity to care for others.

The archangel slots into the chair next to mine. It squeaks as he leans back casually.

At roughly nine in the morning, I see Jeremy walk up to the firm, coffee in hand. He looks around before he opens the door and disappears inside.

I increase the speed of the footage, watching carefully as I wait for him to leave again.

At three-fifteen, there’s movement in the alley on the right side of the building. A figure slips out of the door and hovers near the bins in the small passageway. Jeremy shifts uneasily, facing away from the camera. He looks down at his phone for a minute, then up as if he hears something.

I’ve seen this before. Angela had the same unease before she was taken.

My heart quicks, anger thrumming through my veins. I know what happens next. I’ve seen it.

Jeremy stands in the middle of the alley, staring up at the sky. I can make out his frown without zooming in. Then he shields his eyes from the sun with his hand. He turns around a few times, following the sound in what looks like quiet panic.

No, no, no.

This can’t be what happened. He can’t have been —

Within a second he’s taken. Bladed wings whip around him in a quick blur. I see Jeremy shout something, and then he’s gone. Disappearing into the sky in the arms of the bladed angel.

The archangel stiffens besides me. Heat surges through the room like a fire waiting to burn down everything in its path. It’s not a display of power, it’s… anger.

My eyes sting with tears and a lump forms in my throat as I muffle a sob. I will not cry in front of the archangel. In front of the man who leads the angels in this war, the one responsible for this.

My gaze turns to the monster sitting beside me, filled with a dangerous mixture of fury and hatred. When our eyes lock and he notices the fire burning deep within me, he tenses even further, as if he thinks I’m about to launch at him. I just might.

“Slayer,”

he warns in a tone that is uninviting for argument.

I stand and take several steps away from the desk, hoping that distance between us will stop me from doing something as moronic as attacking. I’ve already stabbed him once; deal or not, he won’t let me live if I try something like that again.

I take several quick steps in one direction before twisting and copying the movement in the other. A burning rage thrums in my veins, my mind clouding with shadows of hatred. They have him. I swear to worlds, if the angel has hurt him, I will do everything in my power to take them down. I will destroy them. I’ll willingly die doing so.

I can control my anger. I can keep it contained. I can direct it in a lethal thread of vengeance, tearing them apart one by one. Turning them against each other. I could play that game. I’d happily burn them to the ground and engulf myself in the flames.

The archangel stands, lifting his chin up as if he’s collecting himself. His voice shows no mercy when he says, “Slayer, you need to listen to me.”

I nearly trip over my own feet as I halt to a stop and scoff, “I’m sorry?”

I take heated steps towards him with my fists balled beside me.

“That is no angel. He has fallen.”

His words stop me in my tracks, but my fists stay clenched. “What does that even mean?”

As if his statement is supposed to dim my anger and earn my trust.

“Before you do something that will get you killed, you should know that we did not do this.”

He pauses for just a moment. “His name is Cain. He was an angel, but he fell, years ago. He is working with the daemons. He is who I am looking for.”

Cain. A fallen angel.

His feathers certainly look like they were forged in hell.

A million questions rush through my mind, and I squeeze my eyes shut to try to slow them down. I take a deep breath and ask, “Do you think that he could still be alive?”

The archangel’s features melt into pity as he hesitates. “We have heard rumours that Cain has been taking humans. We don’t know why. We don’t know what he’s doing with them.”

He pauses again, clearly thinking it over. “There is a chance that he is alive.”

That’s all I need. “Okay.”

I wonder if I should tell him about the fallen angel also taking Angela, but if they know he’s been taking humans, then there’s no point. I take another few deep breaths, pushing the anger down and refocussing it where it belongs. Evil as they are, the angels are not my target this time. No, it is the blade-winged angel who will burn.

He raises a brow at me and crosses his arms over his chest. “Okay?”

A small, broken laugh escapes me. “If anything, archangel, this only gives me more reason to keep looking. If we find the fallen angel, we find Jeremy. We find the humans he has been… collecting.”

I force the word out through gritted teeth. If we find the fallen angel, we save our deal with the others. Curfew can continue; people won’t be slaughtered. We can continue to live the lie that we’re safe for another few years.

The archangel stares blankly at me, his eyes unreadable. He cocks his head to the side, but his face is masked by cool indifference.

I try not to squirm under his inquisition, but unease claws at me.

A ringing sound tears his eyes away from me, and his hand reaches for the blade hidden with his wings.

“Relax, bird boy, it’s just my phone.”

I glance at the screen and wince at the caller ID. Xavier. I suppose it’s time to endure my lecture.

“I have to take this.”

I don’t wait for his response; I walk back into the foyer and close the doors behind me. Several deep breaths later, I mutter a few curses and answer my friend, “Hey, buddy, what’s up?”

Xavier spits out about a thousand words per minute at a pitch only recognisable by canines. I move the phone further away from my ear. “Worlds, Amara, I’ve been trying to call you for hours. I thought you were dead! Then I had a hunch to check the cameras at the office and spotted some quite incriminating footage. You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, now would you?”

Ah, crap. “Of course not,”

I say as innocently as a guilty person can.

Several muffled curses follow. “So you’re not currently in the AIA office with an unimaginably attractive stranger? He’s not sitting at your desk looking at classified information?”

My sigh is heavy, but it almost feels lighter when I decide to tell him the truth.

“Xavier, what I’m about to tell you – it has to go in the vault, okay?”

“Amara, you know you can trust me.”

“No, I mean it. This is dangerous, X. You cannot breathe a word of it to anyone. Not just for my safety, but for your own.”

It’s rare that I talk to him with such seriousness; it’s even rarer that we share a conversation without laughter. That’s what makes this all the more haunting for the both of us.

“Worlds, Amara, what have you gotten yourself into?”

Each word is etched with concern. “I promise you I will never breathe a word of it.”

I explain it all to him: the strange man who sits at my desk; the identity of the bladed angel. I make sure to tell him that angels can make themselves appear human, that there’s no way to tell the difference. His responses are mostly profane, but are followed by long stretches of silence and shallow breathing.

“X? Are you there?”

“Take whatever supplies you need. I’ll cover for you. As soon as you leave, I’ll erase the footage. Just don’t die. Please. Don’t die.”

My heart squeezes at his promise. Even when I’m reckless and stupid, he will still watch my back.

Xavier is the only family I’ve ever had. Since the moment I met him I could picture us being friends until we’re old and grey. The two of us sitting on the front porch, judging everybody who walks by, getting kicked out of nursing homes for being too disruptive. He is the one person I know will always be there for me, and I him.

“I hope you know that I love you.”

I close my eyes, savouring this moment.

“Worlds, I think that’s the first time you’ve ever said that to me while sober.”

Xavier’s laugh–snort combination makes me smile – it’s one of the many things we have in common. “I shouldn’t be surprised that of all people, you would get yourself into this situation. That being said, of all people, you’re probably the one with the highest likelihood of survival. In fact, your most likely cause of death is pissing someone off by being a smart-ass.”

I can’t help the smirk that creeps across my face. “Save it for the speech at my welcome home party.”

“Just be careful with the archangel. I know you have a deal, but they’re not exactly known for being trustworthy. If he wants to kill you, he will.”

The thought has crossed my mind, but I don’t tell Xavier that. How do you tell someone who’s always admired your bravery that you’re terrified? That you’re always terrified?

“Look, I should go. I don’t want to leave bird boy alone in our office too long.”

Hanging up the phone has never been so difficult. I want to keep talking to my friend. I want to say goodbye, just in case…

I don’t finish that thought. I can’t.

We both stay silent for a moment, unspoken words between us meaning more than anything we could say.

“One last thing,”

I tell him. “You need to stop them from sending agents back into the field. There’s so much that we don’t know about this war and what lies beyond those walls. It took me less than an hour to run into an angel. They’ll die, X. They’ll all die.”

He doesn’t speak for a long moment. “You’ll die, Amara.”

His voice catches in his throat, and my eyes squeeze shut again.

“I’m too stubborn to die.”

The words aren’t strong enough to convince even me.

“Amara…”

Xavier’s whisper is a strained sound of torment.

“I know, X. I love you too.”

I open my eyes and end the call. “Goodbye, Xavier.”