“Baby?” She runs over to Paige and hugs her with no hesitation despite the blood and gore covering her.
My mother cries in big, anguished sobs. For the first time, I realize that she’s been at least as worried and upset over Paige as I have. That it was no accident that she ended up here, the same dangerous place that I trekked to find Paige. That even though her love often manifests itself in ways that a mentally healthy person couldn't understand—might even declare abusive—that doesn't diminish the fact that she does care.
I swallow the tears that threaten to drown me as I watch my mother fuss over Paige.
Mom takes a good look at Paige. The blood. The stitches. The bruises. She doesn't remark on any of them but does make shocked and cooing noises as she strokes Paige's hair and skin.
Then she looks at me. In her eyes is a hard accusation. She blames me for what happened to Paige. I want to tell her I didn't do this to her. How could she think that?
But I don't say anything. I can't. I can only look back at my mother with guilt and remorse. I look at her the way she looked at me when Dad and I found Paige broken and crippled all those years ago. I may not have held the knife to Paige, but this terrible thing happened on my watch.
For the first time, I wonder if my mother really was responsible for Paige’s broken back.
“We have to get out of here,” says Mom with her arm protectively around Paige. Her voice is clear and full of purpose.
I look up at her in surprise. Before I can stop myself, hope blooms inside me. She sounds full of authority and confidence. She sounds like a mother ready and determined to lead her daughters to safety.
She sounds sane.
Then she says, “They’re after us.”
Hope shrivels and dies inside me, leaving a hard lump where my heart should be. I don’t need to ask who “they” are. According to my mother, “they” have been after us for as long as I can remember. Her protective statement is not a step toward taking responsibility for her girls.
I nod, taking the weight of my family responsibilities back on my shoulders.
CHAPTER 41
Mom is guiding Paige toward the exit when a loud crash from behind the double doors stops them in their tracks. It comes from the room the angels came out of. I pause mid-swing, wondering whether to check it out.
I can’t think of a good reason to waste time looking through those doors, but something bothers me. It snags on my brain like a needle picking a weave, trying to unravel it to see something beneath. So much has been happening I haven’t had time to follow up on a thought—something that might be important, something…
The blood.
The angels had blood all over their gloved hands and in front of their white smocks.
And Laylah. She was supposed to be in surgery with Raffe.
Another crash comes through the doors. Metal on metal like a cart tipping over and crashing into another.
I’m running before I know it.
As I near the double doors, a body crashes through it. I only have a second to recognize Raffe hurtling through the air.
A giant of an angel slams through the doors after him.
Something about the way he moves seems familiar. His face might have been handsome once, but now his vicious expression dominates.
He has beautiful snowy wings spread out behind him. The base of his wings are covered in dried blood where fresh stitches hold them onto his back. Oddly, though there is blood on his back, it’s his stomach that’s bandaged.
There’s something familiar about those wings.
One of them has a notch on it where scissors had sliced through the feathers. A notch exactly like the one I cut on Raffe’s wings.
My brain tries to reject the obvious conclusion.
The giant angel stands between my family and the door we came through. My mom stands frozen in terror as she stares at him. Her cattle prod shakes in her hand as she holds it out toward the giant. It looks almost as much of an offering as a warding.
A low bang rumbles through the ceiling, closely followed by another, then another. Each bang gets louder. This must be what the angels were hearing. Now there’s no doubt in my mind that the attacks have started.
I frantically wave at my mother to go through the doors the delivery guy used. She finally gets it and scampers off through the doors with Paige.
I’m terrified the giant will stop them, but he doesn’t pay them any attention. He reserves all his attention for Raffe.
Raffe lies on the floor, his face and muscles contorted with pain. His back arches to try to keep from touching the concrete floor. Below him, spread out like a dark cape on the floor, is a pair of giant bat wings.