“Did he kill her?”
“You should have shot it!”
“I didn’t know if she was dead.”
“Did we just see the devil?”
“What the hell was he doing?”
He was delivering my body to my people.
He could have been shot. He could have been attacked by other angels. If I was actually dead, he should have left me in the basement to be buried in rubble. He should have chased after Beliel and taken his wings back. He should have thwarted Uriel and avoided being seen by the other angels.
Instead, he delivered me to my family.
~
“It’s her. Penryn.” Dee-Dum comes into my line of sight. He’s smudged with soot, looking exhausted and sad.
Obi comes into view. He looks down at me solemnly for a moment.
“Let’s go,” Obi says wearily. “Move it!” he yells to the group. “Let’s get these people out of here!”
People shuffle past me onto the trucks. They all stare down at me as they walk by.
My mother grips me tighter and continues sobbing. “Please, help me get her on the truck,” she wails.
Obi stops and gives her a sympathetic look. “I’m sorry about your daughter, ma’am. But I’m afraid there isn’t room for…I’m afraid you’ll have to leave her.” He turns and calls to his soldiers, “Someone help this lady onto a truck.”
A soldier comes and pries her away from me.
“No!” She screams and wails and twists in the soldier’s arms.
Just when it looks like the soldier is about to give up and let her go, I feel myself being lifted. Someone is carrying me. My head lulls back and I get a glimpse of who holds me.
It’s little Paige.
From my angle, I can see the crude stitches along her jawline leading up to her ear. Mom’s cheery yellow sweater lies askew along the stitches on her throat and shoulder. I’ve carried her like this a thousand times. I never thought we would switch places one day. She walks at a normal pace rather staggering the way she should with my weight.
The crowd goes quiet. Everyone stares at us.
She places me onto a truck bed without anyone’s help. The soldier standing in the bed grips his rifle in the ready position and backs away from us. The people who are already on the truck back up into each other like animals herding together.
I hear Paige grunting as she climbs into the truck. No one helps her. She bends over to pick me up again.
She smiles a little when she looks at me, but it turns into a wince once it gets big enough to shift her stitches. I catch a glimpse of raw meat fibers caught in her even rows of razor teeth.
I wish I could close my eyes.
My baby sister places me along a bench on the side of the truck bed. People shift out of our way. My mother comes into view and sits by my head. She props my head onto her lap. She is still crying but no longer hysterical. Paige sits by my feet.
Obi must be nearby because everyone on the truck looks past the truck bed as if waiting for a verdict. Will they let me stay?
“Let’s get out of here,” says Obi. “We’ve already wasted too much time. Get these people on the trucks! Let’s go before she blows!”
She? The aerie?
The truck fills with people, but somehow, they manage to leave some space around us so we’re not crowded.
Gunshots pop among the shouting. Everybody hangs on, preparing for a rough ride. The truck lurches forward, weaving through dead cars as it speeds away from the aerie.
My head bounces on my mother’s thigh as we run over something. A body? The machine-gun popping of bullets shooting into the air never stops. I can only hope that the wild spray of bullets misses Raffe, wherever he is.
Not long after we leave, a large truck crashes into the building in the false dawn of the firelight.
The first floor of the aerie explodes outward in a ball of fire.
Glass and concrete spray in every direction. Through the fire, smoke and debris, people and angels fly away from the aerie like scattered ants.
The majestic building teeters as though in shock.
Fire flickers out from the lower windows. My heart constricts, wondering if Raffe stayed out of the aerie. I didn’t see where he went after he left me. I can only hope he is safe.
Then, the aerie slowly collapses on itself.
It comes down in a heap with a puff of dust billowing out in slow motion. The accompanying rumbling sounds like an endless earthquake. Everyone stares in awe.
Hordes of angels circle the air, viewing the carnage.
When the dust mushrooms toward them, they back off, spreading out, looking sparse and dispersed. When the crown fa?ade of the aerie topples onto the broken heap, there is an awed silence.
Then, in twos and threes, the angels scatter into the smoky sky.
Everyone around us cheers. Some are crying. Others are hollering. People jump up and down, clapping. Strangers who would have pointed guns at each other on the street are now hugging.