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

young assassin would have such a mind of his own?
    It was a mistake Raziel would soon rectify. Oh, yes; he’d relish every second of it. But it was the girl who incensed him the most – the girl who caused his fists to clench beneath the covers. He’d been told she was dead, and instead she’d had the gall to actually try and stop the Second Wave from arriving.
    “Shh,” soothed the woman’s voice. A cool, damp cloth brushed across his forehead. If the girl had succeeded it would have meant death for them all: Paschar’s vision fulfilled. And even though she’d failed, Raziel still burned with humiliation – the entire angel community knew that Willow Fields was the half-angel he’d been trying to find for weeks. They’d know exactly what she’d been trying to do in the cathedral; would know he’d been deceived and nearly bested. It was this that made him long to kill his daughter slowly, listening to her screams. And she felt so close now – so infuriatingly close. Raziel’s head turned restlessly on the pillow. He could sense her energy, even though she was hundreds of miles away, in a sleeping bag with the assassin. The knowledge felt fuzzy; he wasn’t sure how he knew it. Why, why , hadn’t he managed to kill them both when he had the chance?
    “Can’t we at least make him more comfortable?” pleaded the woman. “He seems so distressed.”
    “Let’s try this – it’s very mild, but it might help.”
    A pinprick of pain in his arm. It did nothing, of course; angels were unaffected by either stimulants or relaxants. Raziel found himself drifting deeper anyway, exhausted by his own thoughts. As he did, other knowledge came to him...the most unwelcome knowledge he could have imagined.
    Though individuals, angels were also all linked as if by an invisible web; when one died, they each felt it. Now, with the arrival of the Second Wave, the angelic energy in this world had more than doubled, humming with new life. And at its heart there pulsed a purposeful presence that Raziel recognized all too well.
    In his long life he’d only rarely felt fear, but he felt something akin to it now – a jolt of shock and wariness so great that for a moment he almost surfaced back into full consciousness. No one had told him this. It was inconceivable that none of the other angels in this world had known, but the information had not been shared with him. The fact held ominous implications. He hadn’t expected this to happen for several more years at least; he’d thought the Council would wait until the last Wave to make their move, holding reign in the angels’ old world for as long as possible.
    But no, they were here – and it could not bode well for him.
    The Twelve had arrived.
    Manhunt for Terrorist Suspects Continues , read the headline.
    They’d stopped at a small 24-hour service station near the Mexican border; dawn was still an hour away. As he glanced over the story, Alex was relieved by its lack of details – not to mention the photo of Willow with her long blonde hair spilling past her shoulders, reassuring him again just how different she looked now. The picture of Raziel was an old one, he noticed. He felt a grim satisfaction, knowing the angel was probably still incapacitated from the bullet that had nicked his halo. Alex would have far preferred to have killed Raziel, but knocking him out for as long as possible would do for second best.
    “Pump three,” he told the guy behind the counter. He put down two styrofoam cups of coffee, too.
    Willow was waiting beside the motorcycle as he went back outside, her short red-gold hair spiking in the breeze. She had on faded second-hand jeans that she’d bought the day before, and a tight, pale blue shirt with long sleeves that looked great on her. Behind her, the night sky was starting to lighten, the stars fading to the east. Alex smiled, his blood warming as he remembered the silky feel of her in his arms the night before. It had taken a serious