Ahead of us, there is a convoy of trucks surrounded by a small crowd of civilians and soldiers. Beyond them, I catch a glimpse of the apocalypse.
Now that the angels have taken to the air, the battle has taken a turn. Soldiers still lob grenades from inside retreating trucks, but the building is already on fire and the grenades only seem to add noise to the mayhem.
They also shoot machine guns in the air at the flying enemies, but in doing so they risk being targeted by them as well. A gang of angels lift two of the trucks into the air and drop them on top of other trucks that are trying to speed away.
Humans scatter down every alley, both on foot and by car. Angels swoop down seemingly at random and tear apart soldiers and civilians alike.
Raffe does not change his steady pace as he walks away from the building and toward the group of people crowding around the trucks.
What is he doing? The last thing we need is some berserker citizen-soldier strafing us with his machine gun just because he sees something that makes him nervous.
The soldiers seem to have been cramming civilians into the backs of large military trucks. Resistance soldiers in camouflage uniforms kneel in the truck beds with their guns pointed up. They’re shooting in the air at circling angels. One of the soldiers has stopped yelling commands and is looking at us. Another truck’s headlights sweep over him, giving me a glimpse of his face. It’s Obi, the resistance leader.
The shooting and yelling stop the way conversation might stop at a party when you walk in with a police officer. They all freeze and stare at us. Their faces reflect the fire’s glow as the kitchen behind us pours flames out the door and windows.
“What the hell is that?” asks one of the soldiers. There is deep fear in his voice. Another soldier crosses himself, completely unaware of the irony of such a gesture from a soldier fighting angels.
A third man lifts his gun and points it at us.
The soldiers in the truck beds, apparently spooked and on hair-triggers, swing their machine guns toward us.
“Hold your fire,” says Obi. Another truck’s headlights sweep across him and I can see his curiosity fighting his adrenaline. For now, curiosity keeps us alive, but it will only hold the bullets back for so long.
Raffe keeps moving toward them. I want to yell at him to stop, that he’s going to get us killed, but of course, I can’t. He thinks I’m dead already, and as for his safety, it’s as if he doesn’t care anymore.
A woman screams in absolute hysterics. Something about it makes me think of my mother.
Then I see the woman who is screaming. Of course, she is my mother. Her face glows red in the firelight, showing me the full force of her horror. She screams and screams and looks as if she’ll never stop.
I can just imagine what we must look like through her eyes. Raffe’s wings are spread out around him like a demonic bat out of hell. I’m sure the firelight emphasizes the sharp scythes at their edges. Behind him, the building burns with malevolent flames against the smoke-blackened sky, shrouding his face in flickering shadows. I have no doubt that he looms dark and menacing in classic demon form.
My mother doesn’t know that he’s probably holding the wings that way to avoid slicing us. To her, he must look like the Thing That Hunts Her. And her worst nightmare has come true tonight. Here is the devil, walking out of flames, carrying her dead daughter in its arms.
She must have recognized me by my clothes for her to start screaming so soon. Or maybe she’s imagined this scene so many times that she just has no doubt that it must be me in this demon’s arms. Her horror is so genuine and so deep that I cringe inside to hear it.
A soldier twitches with his gun aimed at us. I don’t know how long they’ll restrain themselves. I realize that if they shoot, I won’t even be able to shut my eyes.
Raffe kneels down and places me on the asphalt. He lifts my hair to one side and lets it run through his fingers as it slowly cascades over my shoulder.
His head is haloed in firelight above me, his face in shadow. He runs his fingers across my lips in a slow, gentle touch.
Then he pulls away stiffly as if every muscle is fighting him.
I want to beg him not to leave. Tell him that I’m still here. But I lie frozen. All I can do is watch as he gets up.
And disappears from my view.
Then, there’s nothing but the empty sky reflecting the firelight.
CHAPTER 45
Somewhere in the city, a dog howls. The hollow sound should have been lost in the clamor of the battle, drowned in my fear and pain. Instead, my mind draws it out until it eclipses everything else.
As I lie paralyzed on the cold pavement, all I can think is that it’s the loneliest sound I’ve ever heard.
My mother rushes toward me, still screaming. She throws herself on me, sobbing hysterically. She thinks I am dead, but she is still afraid. Afraid for my soul. After all, she just saw a demon deliver my dead body.
Around us, people burst into frightened conversation.
“What the hell was that?”
“Is she dead?”