Angel Fever (8 page)

HAPPY BIRTHDAY WILLOW AND ALEX
!
read the banner that stretched across one wall.

The words seemed a mockery now. I took in the banner’s brightly coloured letters, remembering how Liz and I had helped make it – how much happier I’d been then.

“I can’t believe people still wanted to have the party,” Alex said in a low voice.

Half the sofas had been moved out of the rec room and the carpet rolled back, creating a dance floor. We’d thought it would be too big; instead it was packed with moving bodies. One was Meghan – and I almost smiled as I watched her. She was as upset over the news as anyone, but she was still teaching the other girls some kind of dance step: the Mashed Potato or something, their legs all shimmying in unison.

“I can believe it,” I said slowly. “Not having it would have seemed too much like giving up. People wanted something to feel good about.”

Alex sighed. “Yeah, I guess.”

The silence when Alex first broke the news to everyone six days ago had been the worst sound I’d ever heard. The clamour of panicked questions that immediately followed had been a close second.

“But – what now?” a girl had blurted out, her voice rising above the rest. And everyone had gone quiet…because this was the only question that mattered.

I’d watched as Alex stood at the front of the dining room, his bandage white against his dark T-shirt. “Personally, I’m going to keep fighting,” he said. “I can’t do anything else. I was raised an AK; I can’t sit back and do nothing while the angels are still here.”

The dining room had been utterly silent as he went on: “But…the odds aren’t great now. To kill the angels one by one will take – hell, I don’t even know. A lifetime. Generations. And our supplies won’t last for ever. We’re talking hardship and constant danger – because once the angels know we’re still around, they’ll do their best to destroy us.”

No one moved. Alex’s expression was hard, almost angry. “Anyway, that’s not what you signed up for. If any of you want to keep fighting, I’m in no position to talk you out of it. But if you want to try to make a new life for yourself someplace where the angels can’t find you…then I don’t blame you, and I wish you luck.”

“So – what? You’re telling us to give up?” demanded a tear-choked voice from the back.

“No,” Alex had said levelly. “I’m being as honest as I can. I don’t want anyone to stay thinking we have a good chance at defeating them. We don’t. You could spend the rest of your life fighting without it making any difference.”

Sam’s face had been a dark scowl. “Yeah, well if we
don’t
fight, there’s no chance at all!” he’d yelled out. “Listen, Kylar, you’re not the only one who gets to go down fighting.
I
signed up to keep going until the bastards are gone!”

And that had been the tide that turned it. The AKs had been stunned, some tearful – but almost unanimous in their agreement with Sam. Only seven had left. Seven, out of the ninety-four new recruits. And now… I swallowed, watching the dancers. Well, I didn’t blame those who were still here for wanting to forget about it for one night.

Around Alex’s wrist was tied the flat woven bracelet I’d made him for his birthday: lavender and silver threads for my aura, blue and gold for his. He ran a finger over it. “Thanks again,” he said. “This is just…” He shrugged and tried to smile. “Thank you,” he repeated.

There were dark circles under his eyes – these last few days he’d been working so hard, ignoring the pain of his wound, trying desperately to plan some way forward for us.

I linked my fingers tightly through his. “It’s going to be okay,” I said in an undertone. “Alex, I don’t know how, but somehow it will be.”

He squeezed my hand. “Have I told you how incredible you look tonight?” he said after a pause.

“You’re changing the subject. And, yes, several times.”

“It kind of bears repeating.” He looked me up and down in my jeans and black-sequinned top as if he’d never seen me before. “God, Willow. I seriously don’t know what I ever did to deserve you.”

I stretched up on tiptoes to kiss his lips. “Whatever it is, I’m glad you did it.”

His tone brightened deliberately. “Hey, it’s after midnight. Happy birthday.” He pulled a folded piece of paper from his jeans pocket. His mouth twisted as he looked down at it. “It’s not much. If things were normal I could – buy you something amazing, or take you out for a great meal—”

“I don’t want any of that,” I told him softly. “I just want you.”

Alex rolled his eyes with a slight smile. “Some present; you’ve already got me. Anyway, happy birthday.” He handed me the paper. “Don’t, um…don’t read it now,” he added. His cheeks were flushing, even in the dim light.

I was dying to know what it was, but I nodded. “Okay.” I slipped the paper into my own back pocket.

The music shifted to a slow, romantic song. Alex looked at the dance floor. “Do you want to dance?”

I hesitated, taking in how tired he seemed. “Can you?”

“Well, I’m not the best dancer in the world, but…”

“No, I mean with your arm.”

He grinned then – a real grin that warmed my heart. “Yeah, I think so. I’ve got to try anyway, since I’m here with the most beautiful girl in the room.”

One slow dance turned into another and another. Alex and I moved together on the dance floor, my arms around his neck and his good arm encircling my waist, holding me close. Distantly, I realized someone must be manipulating the music and was glad.

“I’ve never danced with a boy before,” I whispered, running my fingers through the soft hair at the nape of his neck. It felt as if we were in a fragile soap bubble, where the real world couldn’t intrude.

“Yeah, that’s because the guys in Pawntucket were all idiots.” Alex kissed my neck. “Not that I’m complaining that you didn’t already have a boyfriend when we met.”

“Would you have minded?”

“Are you kidding? I’d have had to challenge the guy to a duel or something. Might have been kind of awkward.”

I smiled and pressed closer – then noticed Alex was leaning on me more heavily than he’d been before. I pulled back. “This is hurting you.”

“I’m okay.”

“No, really. Why don’t we go to bed?” Since he’d been on the painkillers, he’d rarely been awake past ten; I knew he must be exhausted.

“Willow, I’m fine, I promise,” he said, touching my hair. “It’s your birthday – we should stay up and celebrate.”

“Yeah, and I’ll really have a great birthday if my boyfriend collapses on the dance floor.” I tugged at his hand. “Come on, I don’t mind.”

I could see how tempted he was, but he shook his head. “Compromise, okay? I’ll go to bed if you stay up for a while.”

“But I want to be with you,” I said in surprise.

“Yeah, and I want you to enjoy your birthday party. Come on, stay and dance some more – give some of these other guys a chance. Please?” he added.

“All right,” I said finally. “I’ll stay another hour or so.”

I wrapped my arms around his neck and we kissed. Alex touched the bracelet again. “I’m never taking this off, you know,” he said with a small smile.

I watched as he wove his way through the dancing couples and then disappeared through the rec room door. Despite everything, for a second I just stood there smiling after him – and then I turned to leave the dance floor.

And stopped.

Seb was leaning against the wall in the shadows; his face had a carefully neutral look as he stood on his own, drinking a beer. I knew what that look meant, though for a change I didn’t think it was about me: Seb had been wearing it almost nonstop since the news. I let out a breath as our situation came crashing back.

Maybe I should go talk to him,
I thought.

But before I could start towards him, Meghan had already gone over. She said something; he shook his head with a grimace and threw his beer can away. She slipped close, leaning against him in an almost-hug; she smiled and jostled him jokingly, her laughing face nearly on a level with his.

Somewhere deep down, an emotion stirred; on the surface, all I could think was,
Oh, no, she’s really overstepped – now Seb’s going to pull away, and she’ll get hurt.

Seb kind of half laughed as he regarded her…and then the next thing I knew, he’d buried his hands in her long auburn hair and they were kissing deeply.

I stood there stupidly as dancers moved past and the music throbbed. Meghan had both her arms wrapped around Seb; she wore a short purple dress that made her legs look endless. One of Seb’s hands strayed down her spine, caressing her, holding her to him.

Suddenly I realized I was staring. I moved hastily off the dance floor. When I reached the refreshment table, I grabbed a paper plate and piled it high, thoughts spinning.
I’m just surprised, that’s all,
I told myself. And this was seriously none of my business.

Except that I’d sensed Seb’s love for me only the week before – and knew it was true, as much as I didn’t want it to be. If he wanted to make out with someone, did he have to choose
Meghan,
who was in love with him? Seb was as psychic as I was; there was no way he was unaware of her feelings. Abruptly, I recalled the look on her face as she’d said,
Do you think you could ever fall in love with a human?

Disappointment surged through me, with anger close behind. I would never have believed that Seb would use someone this way. I wouldn’t have believed he was even capable of it.

Meghan stood leaning against Seb’s chest as they watched the dancers; he had his arms around her from behind. After a few more songs, she kissed him briefly on the lips and went back to her friends. He stayed lounging against the wall with his hands in his jeans pockets – but after a moment, he glanced over in my direction.

Our eyes met. I could sense his reluctance, his brief inner battle. Finally he slowly came over, his loose chestnut curls tousled.

“Would you like to dance?” he asked.

Another slow song had started. I almost said no, then changed my mind and tossed my paper plate aside. “Yeah, okay,” I said shortly.

Seb held me formally as we danced, one arm around my waist and a hand firm in mine, as if he were wearing a suit instead of faded jeans and a blue shirt that wasn’t tucked in. I was acutely aware of the tingle of his aura touching mine, and it annoyed me. I’d thought I was over being physically affected by Seb.

“Happy birthday,” he said. There was an ironic twinge to his voice; it was obvious I wasn’t happy with him.

“Thanks,” I said. “It might not be very happy for Meghan, though.”

His forehead furrowed. “It’s not her birthday.”

“You know what I mean.”

“No, I don’t.”

Our dancing had slowed to almost nothing, the two of us staring at each other. Other couples swayed around us: intimate shapes on the dance floor. “Okay, this is none of my business,” I said finally. “But I like Meghan a lot, and I just think…I mean, it’s not fair of you to mess with her, when she—” I stopped at the look on his face.

“Mess with her?” he repeated. I felt his brief confusion over the phrase, then he got what I meant. He stopped moving, his hazel eyes hardening.

“Seb, it’s just that you could have practically any girl down here to make out with, if that’s what you want. But Meghan really cares about you.”

“I see,” he said. “And I don’t care about her, is that right? I am using her heartlessly.”

Look, I’m sure you don’t mean to, but—
I couldn’t even begin the sentence; the way he was looking at me made the words dry up.

Seb swore under his breath, something dark and Spanish. He dropped hold of me and walked off, leaving me alone on the dance floor. He went through the rec room door and was gone.

When I looked, Meghan was laughing with a group of girls; she obviously hadn’t seen him leave. Then it hit me. Seb running towards us down the corridor the night we’d had the premonition about the angels. Seb’s room wasn’t even
down
that corridor – Meghan’s was. The memory of his bare chest scorched my cheeks. How long had this been going on between them?

“Hey, birthday girl, you here on your own?” Before I knew what was happening, muscular arms had scooped me up and were propelling me around the dance floor. Sam, whose worries about the angels seemed to have been drowned in a few gallons of beer.

I forced a smile and danced with him; the song was almost over anyway. When it had finished, Sam gave me a hearty kiss on the cheek, then as the music changed to “Crocodile Rock”, he whooped and grabbed my hand. “Hey, this is one of my tracks!”

I detached myself, smiling and shaking my head. “Sorry, Sam – there’s something I’ve got to do.”

Somehow I knew where Seb had gone – he couldn’t do away with the half-angel bond between us, no matter how hard he tried. I went unerringly to the garage. Once I was up on ground level, I said hi to the recruit on guard duty and went outside.

A clear, starry night. Seb sat on the rough ground, leaning against the building. I stopped in my tracks as I saw that he was smoking: cigarette smoke drifted up to the stars.

I sat down beside him. Seb had his knees up with his wrists resting on them; I could feel his anger at me.