We huddle out of sight behind a large tree. I glance at Raffe crouched beside me. He is looking at everything but the soldiers, as if they are the one thing in the forest we don’t need to worry about. I’d feel better if he didn’t look so uneasy.
What spooks an angel who’s stronger, faster, and has keener senses than man?
The soldiers shift. The shape of their circle changes to a teardrop.
The men ooze nervousness as they back slowly toward the camp. Whatever had attacked them seems to be gone. Or at least, the soldiers seem to think so.
My instincts aren’t convinced. I guess not all the soldiers are convinced either, because they look so freaked out that the slightest sound might be enough for them to open fire, spraying bullets every which way into the dark.
The temperature is plummeting, and my wet t-shirt clings to me like a sheet of ice. But sweat trickles down my temples anyway and pools greasily in my armpits. Watching the soldiers leave is like watching the basement door close, shutting out the only light in the house and leaving me alone in the monster-filled darkness. Every muscle in my body screams to run after the soldiers. Every instinct is frantic not to be the lone guppy separated from its school.
I look at Raffe, hoping for some kind of reassurance. He’s on full alert: his body tense, his eyes searching the darkening forest, his ears perked as though listening in stereo.
“Where is it?” His whisper is so low I’m reading his lips almost as much as hearing his words.
At first, I assume he’s talking about the monster that could do such damage. But before I can ask how should I know, I realize he’s asking where the wings are hidden. I point beyond where the soldiers had been standing.
He silently runs to the other side of the circle of destruction, ignoring the carnage. I tiptoe-run after him, desperate not to be left behind in the woods.
I have a hard time ignoring the body parts. There aren’t enough bodies and parts to account for all the missing men. Hopefully, some of them ran off and that’s the reason there are fewer of them than there should be. I slip on the blood in the middle of the carnage but manage to regain my footing before I fall. The thought of falling face-first on a pile of human intestines is enough to keep me moving to reach the other side.
Raffe stands in the midst of the trees, trying to find one with a hollow. It takes a few minutes before we find it. When he pulls out the blanket-wrapped bundle of his wings, the tension leaches out of him, and he hunches his shoulders and head protectively around the bundle.
He looks at me, and there is enough light for me to see him mouth the words thank you. It seems to be our fate to continually pass our debt back and forth.
I wonder how long it takes before it’s too late to reattach the wings to his back. If it was a human body part, it would be past the expiration date already. But who knows about angels? And even if the angel surgeons or magicians or whatever manage to reattach them, I wonder if they’ll be useable or just decorative, the way a glass eye is just decorative so that people can look at your face without cringing.
A cold wind teases my hair, making it brush against the back of my neck like icy fingers. The forest is a mass of shifting shadows. The whipping of the leaves sounds like a thousand snakes hissing above me. I look up just to make sure there aren’t really snakes above me. All I see are redwoods looming under the blackening sky.
Raffe touches my arm. I practically jump out of my skull but manage to stay quiet. He hands me my pack. He keeps the wings and the sword.
He nods in the direction of the camp and walks in that direction, following the soldiers. I don’t understand why he wants to head back to camp when we should be running the other way. But the forest has me so creeped out that I’m not inclined to linger alone, nor am I eager to break our silence. I slip on my pack and follow.
I stick to Raffe as close as I can manage without having to explain why I’m hugging his back. We reach the edge of the woods.
The camp is quiet under the mottled moon shadow under the camp’s canopy. No lights glow from the windows, although if I look hard enough, I can catch a glimpse of metal glinting in the moonlight in some of the windows. I wonder how many rifles they have trained through the glass, seeking targets?
I don’t envy Obi having to maintain order in those buildings. I’m sure panic in a confined space can be pretty ugly.
Raffe leans over to me and whispers so low I can barely hear him. “I’ll watch to make sure you get safely into the building. Go.”
I blink stupidly at him, trying to make sense of what he is saying. “But, what about you?”
He shakes his head. It seems reluctant, for all the good that will do me. “You’re safer in there. And you’re safer without me. If you’re still set on finding your sister, head for San Francisco. You’ll find the aerie there.”
He’s leaving me. Leaving me at Obi’s camp while he goes on to the aerie.
“No.” I need you, I almost blurt it out. “I saved you. You owe me.”
“Listen to me. You are safer on your own than with me. This is no accident. This sort of ending…” He gestures toward the massacre. “It happens too often to my companions.” He runs his hand through his hair. “It’s been so long since I had someone to watch my back…I’d fooled myself into believing…things could be different. Do you understand?”
“No.” It is more of a rejection of what he’s telling me than an answer to his question.
He stares into my eyes for a moment. His eyes are so intense.
I hold my breath.
I swear he’s memorizing me as though his mental camera is firing, capturing me in this moment. He even inhales deeply as though filling up on my scent.
But the moment passes when he looks away and leaves me wondering if I imagined it.
Then he turns and melts into the darkness.