She shook her head, fighting tears. “We only danced, but…I did kinda lose myself in it for a while. Until you came.” A thin trail of hot wetness skated over her cheek. “Am I going to be okay?”
“Absolutely. We’re going to The White Tower and we’re not leaving until Luca fixes you up. The Order must know a way to cure you. We’re not leaving until they do.”
Sudden fear knifed through Annabella. “My mother. The wolf will go after my mother.”
“Is that how he coerced you to go with him?”
Annabella nodded. “And he’ll follow through on his threat, especially now that I’ve run away from him. We have to get to her first.”
Custo caught her gaze with his. “I’ll send an extraction unit for your family, but we are going to the tower.”
“No. This is my mother we’re talking about.”
“Bella. Take another look at yourself in the mirror.”
Annabella kept her gaze on his face. She wasn’t budging.
He shook his head, no. “We have to find out what’s happening to you and if it’s reversible. My hunch is that the wolf will follow you, especially now that you are infected with Shadow, rather than make good on any threats to hurt your family. Remember what happened to Abigail?”
Annabella’s argument stuck in her throat. The memory of Abigail’s possession was vivid, horrifying, an invasion of body more complete than she could fathom. But she wanted her mom and brother safe and sound.
“Decision’s made, Annabella,” Custo said. His tone brooked no further disagreement. “We need to get you help before the wolf catches up with us. I don’t think we have much time.”
The army cart burst out of the concrete bunker. A helicopter was waiting, its propellers beating the air into a deafening hurricane of small debris that stung Annabella’s eyes. At Custo’s direction, the driver helped her inside, though she still didn’t need it. She looked like a freak, but she wasn’t helpless.
The helicopter lifted off before she was fully strapped in, nose angling toward the city. Annabella stared at the skin on her hands, while Custo yelled into a headset.
“Adam, repeat!” Custo’s forehead and eyes strained as he listened. He rubbed a hand over his face and told her, “I can’t get a clear signal.”
He asked the pilot, “What’s our ETA?”
“Seventeen minutes.”
Custo looked back at her. “How are you feeling?”
“Fine. The same.” Which wasn’t quite true. She was bitterly cold.
Annabella watched Custo’s arm heal as they flew, the flesh knitting together from the inside out as the minutes ticked by. The bone looked straighter, too. She tried to control her shivers while she listened to Custo make a series of calls. Her mom had been picked up, and though spitting mad, was fine and in transport by her city’s police to rendezvous with a Segue unit, which would really piss her off. Her brother had likewise been detained by campus security. Annabella could do nothing but wait and hope they were safe.
“Oh. Hell.” Custo was looking out his window to the city below.
Annabella leaned over to see for herself, but couldn’t immediately make sense of the chaos. A narrow building was in near rubble, its street-side wall collapsed, the interior floors and rooms exposed. Great white pieces of stone littered the sidewalk and crushed two unlucky cars. Other cars were abandoned helter-skelter in the middle of the road as in a disaster movie.
The helicopter lowered, and people became visible: a line of army soldiers crouched behind debris, protecting the remains of the building, firing upon an encroaching armed throng who obviously weren’t scared of guns.
The helicopter banked toward a rooftop landing, and from this new perspective, the street became more familiar. The destroyed white building below had to be The White Tower, occupying the space of the alley where it once had been concealed from human eyes. Now it was in full view. The soldiers protecting it and the fallen angels were led by Segue, holding off the invading wraiths.
“Adam was too late,” Custo said.
“Or just in time,” Annabella answered, unbuckling her belt. “We’ve got to hurry.”
Custo put a staying hand on her arm. “I’m not taking you down there.”
“Ha! I’m not asking permission.” She opened the helicopter door and pushed against the wind, her hair flying in all directions.
Custo climbed out after her, expression fierce. “Annabella—”
She cut him off, lifting her Shadow-veined palms for him to see. “There’s nothing down there scarier than what the wolf will do to me. He’s got to be close behind us—nothing can hold Shadow—and the next time he attacks we won’t have a flamethrower to stall him.” She pointed to the melee below. “The Order has answers and they need your help. I’m going whether you like it or not.”