“That’s crazy,” I say.
“In case you hadn’t noticed. The whole world has gone crazy. It’s time to adapt or die.”
“By throwing crazy at crazy?”
“By throwing whatever we have that might confuse or distract, or maybe even repulse them, if that’s even possible. Anything to keep their attention from the rest of us while we organize,” says Obi.
“Organize into what?” asks Raffe.
“Into an army strong enough to launch them off our world.”
All the heat drains out of my body. “You’re gathering a resistance army?” I try desperately not to look at Raffe. I’ve been casually trying to collect information on the angels just in case it might come in handy. The hope of an organized resistance, though, went up in smoke along with D.C. and New York.
And here is Raffe, in the middle of a rebel camp that is desperately trying to keep itself a secret from the angels. If the angels knew about this, they would crush it in its infancy, and who knows how long it could take for another resistance to organize.
“We prefer to think of ourselves as simply a human army, but yes, I suppose we are considered the resistance since we are the underdog by a long shot. Right now, we’re gathering forces, recruiting and organizing. But we have something big planned. Something the angels won’t soon forget.”
“You’re striking back?” The thought boggles my mind.
“We’re striking back.”
CHAPTER 17
“How much damage can you do?” asks Raffe. My stomach turns cold knowing that I’m the only human in the room who knows that Raffe is one of the enemy.
“Enough damage to make a point,” says the resistance leader. “Not to the angels. We don’t care what they think. But to the people. Let them know that we are here, that we exist, and together, we will not be pushed aside.”
“You’re attacking the angels as a recruiting campaign?”
“They think they’ve won already. More importantly, our own people feel like that too. We need to let them know the war has just begun. This is our home. Our land. Nobody gets to waltz in and take over.”
My mind swirls with conflicting emotions. Who is the enemy in this room? Whose side am I on? I stare carefully at the floor, desperately trying to avoid looking at either Raffe or Obi.
If Obi senses something, then he might start to suspect Raffe. If Raffe senses something then I can’t really expect him to trust me. Oh, God, if I piss off Raffe, he might renege on our deal and disappear to the aerie without me.
“My head hurts,” I whimper.
There’s a long pause where I’m convinced Obi is working things out. I’m almost positive that he’s about to shout, “My God, he’s an angel!”
But he doesn’t. Instead, he gets up and puts my bowl of stew on his chair. “We’ll talk more in the morning,” says Obi. He guides me up and over a couple of steps to a cot in the shadows I hadn’t noticed before. Raffe’s guard does the same across the room.
I lie down awkwardly on my side with my wrists tied behind my back. Obi sits on the cot and ties my ankles together. I’m tempted to make a quip about requiring dinner and a movie before getting so kinky, but I don’t. The last thing I need is to start making sex jokes while I’m being held prisoner in a camp full of armed men in a world where there are no laws.
He puts a pillow under my head. As he’s doing this, he brushes hair out of my face and sweeps it behind my ear. His touch is warm and smooth. I should be scared, but I’m not. “You’ll be all right,” he says. “The men will have strict orders to be gentlemanly toward you.”
I guess it doesn’t take a mind reader to know that I might be worried about that. “Thank you,” I say.
Obi and his man collect the bowls of stew and leave. The lock clicks behind them.
“Thank you?” asks Raffe.
“Shut up. I’m exhausted. I really need to get some sleep.”
“What you need is to decide who’s on your side and who’s not.”
“Will you tell them?” I don’t want to get specific in case someone’s listening. I hope he understands what I mean. If Raffe and I make it to the aerie, he’ll have intel on the infant resistance movement. If he tells the other angels and they kill off the movement, I’ll be the Judas of my kind.
There’s a long pause.
If he doesn’t tell, will he be the Judas of his kind?
“Why did you come here?” he asks, blatantly changing the subject. “Why didn’t you run away like we both know you should have?”
“Stupid, huh?”
“Very.”
“I just…couldn’t.”
I want to ask him why he risked his life to save mine when his people kill us every day. But I can’t. Not here, not now. Not while someone may be listening.
We lie in silence, listening to the crickets.
After a long time, as I drift away to a numb place, he whispers in the dark. “They’re all asleep except for the guards.”