End of Days (Penryn and the End of Day #3) (14 page)

‘Plagues?’ I ask. ‘Why is everybody trying to make plagues?’

‘What’s an apocalypse without pestilence?’ asks Josiah.

‘Great,’ I say. ‘So we’re supposed to trust a known liar who’s cooking up apocalyptic plagues? And why would we even care what happens to Laylah? Serves her right for transplanting demon wings onto Raffe and playing Dr. Frankenstein with human beings. We’re not just biomass to be shaped into whatever dolls she wants to play with.’

Josiah looks at me, then back at Raffe. ‘Does she need to be here?’

‘Apparently, she does,’ says Raffe. ‘It turns out that she’s the only one I can trust to watch my back.’

I stand a little taller when he says that.

‘Laylah didn’t know.’ Josiah shifts his body to make it clear he’s talking to Raffe. ‘I warned her not to get involved, but you know how ambitious she is. Look, you can trust her this time because you’re her only hope out of this mess. Uriel will kill her when he has everything he needs from her.’

‘Kill her? You mean set her up for a fall?’

‘No, I mean kill her. He was furious with her, wouldn’t believe a word she said when she told him she had nothing to do with the locusts turning on us. He flew into a rage and told her he killed the Messenger and he could kill her too. The Messenger, Raffe. Uriel killed him.’

An image of the winged man who called himself Archangel Gabriel, the Messenger of God being shot down over the rubble of Jerusalem flashes through my mind. They looped it for days on TV.

Josiah shakes his head like he’s still having trouble believing it. ‘Uriel said Gabriel had gone insane, that he hadn’t actually spoken to God in eons, that he’d made up all the rules that God had supposedly commanded him to make. He said there was no reason why Uriel couldn’t be Messenger, that he could lie as well as Gabriel. So Uriel had him killed. Killed. He admitted it.’

They stare at each other, Raffe looking just as shocked as Josiah.

‘So what’s the big deal?’ I ask. ‘Our kings used to get murdered all the time.’

‘We don’t kill our own,’ says Josiah. ‘The last time that happened, Lucifer and his armies fell.’ He tilts his head at me as if not sure the message got through. ‘It was kind of a big deal.’

‘Yeah, I’ve heard of him,’ I say.

Raffe lets out a frustrated breath. ‘I can’t do anything about it from the outside.’

‘I know,’ says Josiah. ‘That’s why you have to let Laylah fix your wings. Somebody other than Uriel has to win the election. We’ve got word out to try to find Michael, but it’s unlikely we’ll find him in time.’

‘Why does Laylah think they’d vote for me instead of Uriel?’

‘You still have loyal followers. Rumors have been flying that you’re back, and I’ve been careful to cultivate them in your favor. You have a shot.’

‘No wonder Michael is staying away. Knowing him, becoming the Messenger is the last thing he wants to do. He can’t lead armies in the field if he’s smoothing feathers and buried under administration at home.’

‘You’re the only archangel who can challenge Uriel right now. Even if Michael wins in absentia, an archangel would need to stand in for him until he comes back. If you can do that, then Laylah can stand behind you. She now has every reason to want you to have your wings back.’

‘Raffe, you can’t trust him. Not after what he’s done.’

‘I know it looks bad,’ says Josiah, ‘but have I not made the oath? A life for a life. You gave me my freedom from eternal slavery and gave me the chance to earn a life worth living. And I pledged it to you.’

I push my face toward him. ‘You didn’t look so happy to see him back in San Francisco.’

‘I thought he was dead. I thought I was free of my oath, free to make my own way. But I would never betray Raphael. Why do you think he came to me? I’m the only one guaranteed to be loyal. The only one without a clan, a lineage, or honor to protect that supersedes my allegiance to him. Do you understand?’

He looks at Raffe. ‘I didn’t know what they were going to do to you. I thought they were just going to reattach your wings. Laylah had every intention of following through, but Uriel found out you were here and she lost her nerve. But now she simply has no choice. She has no one to ally with but you. And she’s the only one who can sew your wings back on.’

That last part hits home. With Doc’s arm broken, who else can do the operation?

‘You’re running out of time, Archangel,’ he says. ‘The election is about to happen. And if you can’t stop Uriel, we’ll have a deranged murderer as our Messenger. His word will be law, and everyone who opposes him will fall. This could be the start of a civil war. We could end up having an all-out extermination of not only the humans, but all angels who oppose him.’

I can feel the tension radiating from Raffe. How can he say no? This is his chance at getting his wings back and setting things right. He can have everything he wants. He might even become Messenger and save everyone from this apocalyptic mess.

And then he would go home, never to return in my lifetime.

24

‘Where would you operate?’ asks Raffe.

‘At the aerie,’ says Josiah. ‘Laylah is under guard. She can’t get out. But I could sneak you in.’

‘Go. I’ll follow you with the wings in a minute,’ he says, taking off the backpack that holds his blanket-rolled wings.

‘I should go with you,’ I say.

‘You can’t.’ He takes off his coat and slides the backpack straps on backward so that he’s wearing the pack against his chest. He fiddles with the waist strap, making sure it’s in place. Wearing a backpack this way might not look great on someone else, but on him, it looks like a fitted piece of military gear strapped tight to his broad chest.

‘You need someone to watch your back.’

He arches his back and spreads his wings the way I might stretch my legs after sitting too long. ‘Josiah will have to do. It’s too dangerous for you. Besides, you need to take care of your family.’

A thought occurs to me. ‘Maybe Laylah could help Paige too?’ I hate even saying it, but with Doc’s arm broken, who else can we turn to?

‘If things work out for me, I’ll see if I can get her to help your sister.’

‘Paige doesn’t have any more time than you do.’

‘It’ll be safer for her if we know that we can trust Laylah first.’

He’s right, but my mind keeps spinning. I nod. ‘What about your sword?’

‘I can’t fly with her if she won’t accept me. And that won’t happen until I get my wings back. Take care of her until I return?’

I nod, warmth flooding my chest. ‘So you’ll be back?’

He looks at me with worry in his eyes.

I know we’ve gone our separate ways before, but this time, it feels permanent. He’s about to reenter the angel world. And when he does, he’ll forget all about that Daughter of Man he partnered up with for a few days. He’s made it clear that he can’t be with me.

‘Is this goodbye?’ I ask.

He nods.

We look into each other’s eyes. As usual, I have no idea what he’s thinking. I could make guesses, but they’d be fantasy.

He leans down, and his lips hover a hair’s breadth from mine. I close my eyes, feeling the tingle of anticipation.

Then he presses his lips to mine. His warmth spreads out from my lips down into my chest and stomach. Time stops, and I forget about everything else – the apocalypse, my enemies, watching eyes, monsters in the night.

All I feel is the kiss.

All I am is Raffe’s girl.

Then he pulls back.

He presses his forehead to mine, and I can feel the prickling of tears behind my lashes.

‘You’re going to get your wings back.’ I swallow and talk fast before my voice can waver. ‘You’ll become Messenger, and they’ll follow you as their leader. Then you’ll take the angels home, away from here. Promise me that when you become the Messenger, you’ll take them away from here, away from all of us.’

‘Not much of a chance that I’ll become Messenger, but yes, I’ll do what I can to take them away.’

And he’ll be the first one gone.

I swallow.

We stand there for a few moments, our breath mingling.

The wind picks up, and it feels like we’re the only living beings in the world.

Then he straightens up, leaning away from me. ‘It’s not about what I want or need. My people, the entire fabric of my society is about to unravel. I can’t let that happen.’

‘I didn’t ask you to.’ I slowly wrap my arms around my middle. ‘You’re the best hope for
my
people too, you know. If you take control and take them back to where they came from, my world will be saved too.’
But you won’t be with me.

He shakes his head sadly at me. ‘These are the rules we live by. We are soldiers, Penryn. Legendary warriors willing to make legendary sacrifices. We do not ask. We do not choose.’ He says that like a motto, a pledge he’s said a thousand times.

He slowly lets me go, firmly setting me aside.

He brushes my hair out of my face, strokes my cheek. He looks at every part of my face as if memorizing it. A half smile forms on his lips.

Then he drops his hand, turns around, and leaps into the air.

I put my hand over my mouth to keep from calling him back.

The October wind tugs at my hair. Dry leaves float by, lost and abandoned.

25

I should go.

Turn around and leave this place.

But my feet feel like they’re rooted to the sidewalk. I stand there, worried. Worried that it’s a trap, worried that I won’t see him again, worried that he is yet again in the hands of his enemies.

I’m so lost in all the things that might happen that I don’t hear the footsteps behind me until they’re too close for me to run.

People step out from behind buildings. One, five, twenty. They’re all dressed in sheets, and their heads are shaved.

‘You missed them,’ I say. ‘They weren’t much to look at anyway.’

They walk toward me from all sides.

‘We’re not here for them,’ one of them says. The top of his head is more tanned than the others’ like he’s been shaving his for some time. ‘The masters like to do their business in private. We understand that.’

‘The masters?’

The group keeps closing in on me, and I start to feel trapped. But these are cult members, not street gangs. They don’t exactly have a reputation for attacking people. Still, I put my hand on my teddy bear hanging at my hip.

‘No, we’re not here for them,’ I hear a woman’s voice say. ‘No one has a bounty on your angel friend.’ Then I see her – the woman who offered herself up to Paige.

‘I guess I should have let her eat you.’

The woman glares at me as though I humiliated her by saving her life.

I pull off the bear and wrap my hand around the sword handle. It’s cold and hard and ready for battle. But I’m hesitant to use it on them. We all have more than enough enemies trying to kill us already without going after each other.

I back away from Tan Head. The circle tightens. ‘Are you really going to harm the sister of the Great One?’ Hopefully, they believe in their own story.

‘No, we mean you no harm,’ says Tan Head. He reaches for me.

I step away and pull out my sword.

A hand holding a damp cloth reaches around me from behind and clamps down over my mouth and nose. The cloth reeks of something awful that shoots straight into my head and makes the world fuzzy.

I try to struggle.

I knew it was a trap. I just hadn’t realized the trap was for me.

My thoughts turn into a jumbled mess.

The sharp scent of chemicals, the burning of the fumes going down my throat – these are the last things I remember as the world fades into darkness.

26

I wake up blinking in the sunlight in the back of a classic Rolls-Royce. Everything is sleek and shiny and polished. Big band music plays with glorious fidelity. The driver wears a black suit complete with a chauffeur’s hat. He watches me through the rearview mirror as I groggily come to.

My head feels foggy, and my nose is still full of a chemical scent. What happened?

Oh, yeah, the cult . . . I put my hand up and touch my hair to make sure it’s still there. You never know.

My hair is still on me, but my sword is not. Only my empty teddy bear hangs on my shoulder strap. I stroke the soft fur, wondering what they did with my sword. It’s too valuable for them to have left it and too heavy for them to have taken it far. I can only hope they hefted it into the trunk or somewhere nearby as proof that they got the right girl for the bounty.

My car seems to be part of a matching caravan of classic cars – one in front of us and one behind.

‘Where are we going?’ My throat feels lined with sand.

The driver doesn’t answer. His silence gives me the creeps.

‘Hello?’ I ask. ‘You don’t need to worry about anyone hearing us. Angels don’t like Man’s technology. They won’t have a bug in here or anything.’