Although he doesn’t observe Beliel any more than anyone else, he moves when Beliel moves, stops when Beliel stops.
All my attention is drawn to the warrior as I look for the slightest proof of him being Raffe. If he had been in a crowd of human men, it’d be easy to pick him out as a god among them. Just my luck that we’re in a crowd of walking mountains of muscle and the kind of studliness that females all over the world would die for. Too bad there’s too big a risk of actually dying around them.
My intense study of him must tickle his spy sense because he looks over at me.
I know that, as a soldier, he probably sized up all the others around him, the weapons they carry, the best escape route. But as an angel, I doubt that he bothered to take much stock of the humans.
When he looks at me, it’s the look of someone noticing a person for the first time, proving yet again that an angel’s arrogance knows no bounds. Which, now that I think about it, increases the likelihood that this is Raffe.
He does a full evaluation of me, taking in the cut and curled hair accented with peacock feathers, the blue and silver makeup ribbons chasing around my eyes and cheekbones, the silky dress that clings to every part of my body.
But it’s not until his eyes meet mine that a jolt of recognition passes between us.
I have no doubt that it’s Raffe.
But he fights his recognition of me.
For a second, his defenses fall and I can see the turmoil behind his eyes.
He saw me die. This must be a mistake.
This glittery girl doesn’t look anything like the street waif he traveled with.
Yet…
His step falters and he pauses, staring at me.
Chpater 53
THE RIVER of people mills around him as he stands like a rock in the channel. He stares at me, seemingly oblivious to the traffic of sparkling fabric, plumage of all colors, masked faces, and flutes of champagne flowing around him.
Time may have stopped for him but it hasn’t stopped for the rest of the world. Beliel continues to move farther into the crowd while Uriel walks closer to Raffe. If Raffe doesn’t move soon, he’ll be stuck having to greet Uriel.
The angels around Raffe fan their wings as Uriel approaches. If Raffe doesn’t fan his wings, too, Uriel is bound to notice him. Maybe he’ll stop to talk to him. Will he recognize Raffe’s voice? Walking into an angel party with demon wings is a little like walking onto a shooting range disguised as a target.
I try to warn Raffe with my eyes as we drift over to him, but he seems to be in a trance as he stares at me.
Only when it’s practically too late does he blink out of it and finally glance at Uriel. He ducks his head and turns away, but he gets caught trying to go in the wrong direction as the angels around him move forward to greet Uriel.
I can’t think of any way to help Raffe that doesn’t involve getting my head chopped off or something equally horrendous.
But if I do something to distract Uriel, he’ll likely wait until we’re in private to chop me up and feed me to his scorpion-tailed hounds.
At least, I hope so.
I take two small steps out of sync with my matching twin. I trip.
I careen into Uriel, bumping him harder than I intended.
Uriel stumbles into one of his sycophants and champagne sloshes onto his hand. He spins to look at me with a scowl. There is the promise of eternal torture in his eyes.
I almost expect scorpion monsters to jump out and grab me on the spot, dragging me into the depths of some dungeon where death minions will scuttle out to chop me to bits in the lonely darkness. I don’t need to fake my terror when Uriel looks at me.
But just as I suspected, he’ll wait to deal with me until he’s done stroking feathers or whatever it is that angel politicians do. I have until then to figure out how to get out of this mess.
By the time he composes the raw violence in his face into something more suitable for a politician and turns back to his admirers, Raffe is nowhere in sight.
It takes a few minutes before my heart slows down to normal. I keep my eyes forward and behave like a model accessory, ashamed to glance over at Andi and see the fear in her face. She’s not very useful to Uriel without me, is she?
I hope Raffe made it to a shadowy corner somewhere. I hope Paige is okay and that I’ll soon find her. I hope Mom and Clara are doing all right and are successfully escaping. And now, there’s Andi, who I clearly need to take with me when I leave because it’ll be a death sentence for her if her twin walks off or gets killed. And then there are all those people on Alcatraz.…
Too many.
Being responsible for Mom and Paige is nearly crushing me already. I take comfort in reminding myself that I am just a kid, not a hero. Heroes have a tendency to die in horrible ways. Somehow, I’ll get through this, and then I’ll lead the quietest life anyone could possibly have in the World After.
We follow Uriel as he works the crowd and makes his way to the makeshift stage at the ocean side of the lawn. The stage has a long table with a white tablecloth on it. The cloth shivers in the ocean wind, held down by plates and cutlery. Angels are seated on either side of an empty center chair like disciples at the Last Supper.
Uriel walks in front of the table and stands in the center, looking down at the party below him. I wonder if we should find seats, but Andi and I both hesitate long enough that we just assume our trophy poses on either side of him.
As if on cue, the roar of the party quiets down and all eyes are on us. On Uriel, of course, but I’m close to him so it feels like everyone’s staring at me, even though no one is.