Angelfall

I’m not an actress and I suck at lying. I am also far from being a seductress. It’s hard to practice the art of seduction when you’re always pushing your kid sister around in her wheelchair. Not to mention that daily jeans and baggy sweatshirt do not a seductress make.

My mind spins, grasping for ways to get the albino’s attention. Nothing comes to mind.

I take the long way around the lounge, hoping to think of something.

Across the club, a small entourage of women and guards makes its way toward the warriors. They follow in the wake of an angel who has almost the beauty of the warriors with just enough normalcy to his looks to make him non-threatening. He’s good-looking without being intimidating. Toffee hair, warm eyes, with a nose that’s a touch big for his otherwise perfect face. This one is all smiles and friendliness, a born politician.

He wears a gray suit circa 1920s with polished shoes and a golden watch chain looping from his waist to his vest pocket. He pauses here and there to exchange a word or two of greeting. His voice is as warm as his eyes, as friendly as his smile. Everyone smiles back at him.

Everyone but the two women who flank him. They stand a step behind on either side of him. Dressed identically in silver dresses that pool on the floor at their feet, they are matching platinum trophies. They’re human, but their eyes are dead. The only time any life comes into them is when the Politician glances toward them.

Fear flares in their eyes before it is squelched, as if showing their fear would invite something truly frightening. I can almost see the trembling of their muscles as they tense to keep from cringing from the Politician.

These women aren’t just afraid of him. They are screaming-on-the-inside terrified.

I take another look at the smiling angel but see nothing but friendliness and sincerity. If I hadn’t noticed the women’s reactions to him, I would have thought he was best friend material. In a world where instincts matter more than ever, there’s something very wrong about not being able to directly detect the person that these women know him to be.

Because of the circular flow of the club, the Politician and I walk toward each other as we near the warriors’ booth.

He looks up and catches me watching him.

Interest lights up his face and he shoots me a smile. There’s so much open friendliness in that smile that my lips automatically curve up a split second before alarms go off in my head.

The Politician has noticed me.

An image of me dressed as one of his trophy girls flashes through my mind. My face waxy and empty, desperately trying to hide the terror.

What are these women so afraid of?

My step falters as if my feet refuse to get closer to him.

A waiter in a tux and white gloves steps in front of me, breaking the eye contact between me and the Politician. He offers flutes of bubbly champagne on his tray.

To stall, I take one. I focus on the rising bubbles in the golden liquid to center myself. The waiter turns and I catch a glimpse of the Politician.

He leans into the warriors’ table and talks in a low tone.

I let out a sigh of relief. Our moment has passed.

“Thank you,” I murmur to the waiter with great relief.

“You’re welcome, miss.”

Something familiar about his voice makes me glance up at the waiter to see his face for the first time. Until now, I’d been so distracted by the Politician that I hadn’t really looked at my savior.

My eyes widen in shock at the red haired, freckled-nosed face. It’s one of the twins, Dee or Dum.

The look he gives me is one of blank professionalism. Absolutely no sign of recognition or surprise.

Wow, he’s good. I never would have guessed it based on my interactions with him before. But they had mentioned that they were Obi’s spymasters, hadn’t they? I assumed they were joking or exaggerating, but maybe not.

He gives a little bow and drifts away. I keep expecting him to turn around and flash me a mischievous grin but he walks stiff-backed and offers drinks to people. Who would have thought?

I casually step behind a crowd to hide myself from the Politician. Did Dee-Dum know that he was rescuing me or was that a happy coincidence?

What’s he doing here? An image of Obi’s caravan winding its way up to the city comes back to me. The truck full of explosives. Obi’s plan to recruit resistance fighters by making a showy stand against the angels.

Great. Just great. If the twins are here, they must be scoping out the place for their counter attack.

How much time do I have to get Paige out of here before they blow the place to Kingdom Come?

CHAPTER 31

After a brief conversation, the Politician leaves the warriors’ booth. To my relief, he cuts across the club instead of coming toward me. He seems to have forgotten all about me as he makes his way through the club, stopping here and there to say hello.

Everyone watches him go. No one in the crowd near me speaks for a few moments. Then, the conversation begins tentatively, as if unsure whether it’s okay to talk. The warriors at the table drink grimly and silently. Whatever was said by the Politician, they didn’t like it.

I wait until the conversation rises to full volume again before I go back to approaching the albino. Now that I know the resistance is here, I feel an extra surge of urgency to get things rolling.

Still, I hesitate on the outskirts of the river of women. There’s a female-free zone around the albino. Once I step into it, it will be hard not to be noticed.

The angels seem more interested in socializing with one another than with the women. Despite their best efforts, the women are being treated like fashion accessories to the angels’ costumes.

When the albino turns my way, I catch a glimpse of what keeps the women at bay. It’s not his utter lack of pigment, although I’m sure that would put off some people. These women, after all, aren’t put off by men with feathers growing out of their backs, and who knows where else. What’s a little lack of pigment to them? But his eyes. One glimpse of those peepers and I understand why the humans stay away.

They are blood red. I’ve never seen anything like it. His pupils aren’t like any pupil I’ve ever seen either. They are so large they take up most of his eyes. A solid ball of crimson surrounded by a pink ring of irises shot through with white like miniature lightning bolts sizzling over blood. Long ivory lashes frame the eyes, as if they aren’t noticeable enough already.

I can’t help but stare. I look away, embarrassed, and notice other humans snatching nervous glimpses of him as well. The other angels, despite all their terrible aggression, look like they were made in Heaven. This one, on the other hand, looks like he walked right out of my mother’s nightmares.

I’ve had more than my fair share of being around people whose physical appearance is u

People stared and skirted around these kids the way humans behave around this albino. Whenever a particularly bad incident happened to any member of her flock, Paige gathered them together for a theme party. A pirate party, a zombie party, a come-as-you-are party where one kid showed up in pajamas with a toothbrush in his mouth.

They’d joke and giggle and know in their bones that they were strong together. Paige was their cheerleader, counselor, and best friend all rolled into one.