Angel Fire by L. A. Weatherly Read Free Book Online Page A

and tenderness that it twisted my heart.
    We stared at each other. I had no idea who the boy was, but the thought of ever being without him filled me with despair. The unexpected feeling robbed the breath from my throat, so that at first I couldn’t speak.
    “Who are you?” I whispered at last.
    In answer, the boy stretched out his hand. “Come, querida ,” he said softly.
    His eyes were urging me to say yes, and part of me wanted to link my fingers through his so badly that it hurt. No, I’m in love with Alex, I thought. And then: But, oh my god, to not be with you – how could I possibly bear it? I woke up with a start. It was still night-time; I was in the tent, safe in the sleeping bag with Alex asleep beside me. What had all that been about? Heart thudding, I pressed against Alex’s bare chest. He shifted in his sleep and pulled me closer; I hugged him hard, feeling almost guilty. Even in a dream, how could I have ever felt that way about someone else?
    Especially now. My cheeks heated slightly; I smiled to myself as Alex’s breath stirred my hair. We’d been taking things slowly since we first got together, and then earlier tonight...well, basically we’d both been kicking ourselves that Alex hadn’t made another purchase along with the hair dye and scissors at the drugstore. We’d managed to hold back, though, and meanwhile it had still been just –incredible, and wonderful. I kissed his shoulder, feeling the warm weight of his bare leg looped over mine.
    Okay, forget the part about the boy, I told myself. That was just the dream disintegrating into weirdness. But the rest of it...I frowned as I went over the images: the endless city; its huge square pulsing with music and people. Then the twelve fiery angels exploding – the heaviness of my wings, the millions of angels screaming. Remembering it all, urgency tugged at me even stronger than before – along with a cold dread that coiled in my stomach.
    The dream was a premonition, I was sure of it. Wherever this city was, Alex and I had to go there.

 
    T HE ANGEL DRIFTED IN AND out of consciousness, memory mixing with the now.
    He was lying in bed in his chambers; the covers were soft. Sometimes there was the hum of the central heating as it came on, then the faint click as it went off again. Over and over Raziel saw the assassin: the dark-haired youth who stood pointing a gun at him, his arm around the half-angel abomination. The girl’s face was pale, her green eyes wide.
    The knowledge that he was the thing’s father had rocked him. But there was no doubt; he’d felt the unmistakable echo of his own energy as their angel selves had fought. Plus she looked almost exactly like Miranda, the young music student he’d once enjoyed – though nothing like him, thankfully. Raziel groaned aloud, seeing the assassin again. Next time he would move faster. Next time he would tear the energy forces from them both and watch them crumple into lifeless heaps on the ground...
    “Hush, hush,” whispered a voice. A young human woman was there. She stroked his arm, and even in his current state, Raziel found this irritating and wished she would stop. More voices:
    “Is he coming out of it yet?”
    “No, I don’t think so. I don’t know what to do for him; they’re so different from us...”
    The assassin’s finger, pulling the trigger. The searing wrench as the bullet hit his halo. His wings going into flapping, helpless spasm; his body shuddering, closing down in protest – and the anger that had seethed through him as he collapsed to the floor and the world turned black. The Second Wave was arriving, and instead of being there to greet them and show off his status in this world, he’d been brought down by the very assassin whose life he’d so stupidly spared for his own purposes. He’d thought he’d been so clever, using Kylar to kill the angelic traitors, letting him think he was following standard orders from the CIA. Who’d have guessed that the