Angel Descended (The Awakened Book 6) Page 2

  The three men slung their rifles and moved to the corners of the improvised stretcher. Mamoru took their cue and traded the wire for a grip on the metal. They lifted together and carried her in the gate, over steel plates covering the roadway. Simms advanced ahead, occasionally walking a few steps backward to watch him. He avoided eye contact, feeling certain she didn’t trust him. A faint moan from his sister erased his worry of what anyone here thought of him.

  More figures atop the wall shifted to the interior side to observe the procession. He couldn’t see them but knew somewhere between six and eight rifles were at his back. Mamoru let the Watch lead, keeping his eyes locked on Sadako’s face, hoping she would last another few minutes.

  2

  Child of Light

  Althea

  Unease permeated the strange, shifting world crafted from slices of centuries long gone. Althea held onto Aurora’s hand, shying away from a phantasmal horse-drawn carriage that appeared out of nowhere and thundered past in a fury of spectral neighs and hoof beats. A pair of riders chased it on horseback, firing pistols but always missing. The slower of the two locked eyes with her, and the bandit’s greedy anger gave way to a pleading look.

  Before she could speak, the woman pulled her onward. Aurora seemed to glide forward with little effort, equal parts flying and walking. Althea’s toes touched down every few seconds as their travel consisted of great bounding leaps in a world devoid of gravity. None of the scenery made sense; trees, warped and bent, hung at unnatural angles, superimposed over the astral shadows of the modern world.

  A baleful wind whipped across the gaping windows of a far-off city, but the breeze washing over her lacked the fury of its distant kin. Whenever they stopped, tattered inhuman silhouettes coalesced out of the distant fog, whirling to fix her with malicious, yellow eyes. Althea shrieked as they charged, but Aurora leapt high into the air, pulling her along before the monsters got close.

  The pair came to a halt in the central street of a long forgotten town. Althea clung to Aurora’s arm, looking around for the angry shadow people, but none appeared. Buildings fluttered like a mirage. Drawn in tones of sepia and black, the world shifted, seeming to drift closer and farther even though they’d stopped. Gaunt, withdrawn faces hovered in dark gaps where alleys should be, peering past spidery fingers clutching crumbling brickwork. The road beneath her feet had no temperature, neither warm nor cold, and the constant light wind made her miss the towel she’d left behind in the real world. Then again, something told her clothes wouldn’t have done much to lessen the chill of this place.

  Althea clung to Aurora as if to let go would be her doom. They had departed the awful city some minutes ago where Anna’s friend had been hurt, and stood among the astral echo of a town that no longer existed. While Aurora looked around, presumably to get her bearings, Althea glanced at the specters watching them, a look of concern in her eyes. Their dress varied from the ancient (cowboys she recognized from stories) to the modern scrap clothing of the Badlands. Most of them looked to be from the same section of pre-war time as fitting the town. Something about this place felt familiar, yet she couldn’t recall ever having seen it before, not even in dreams. One man continually shouted to the others insisting something called ‘Vietnam’ was a mistake and ‘our boys’ needed to be brought home. Althea tugged at Aurora, trying to run to the man; if she could cure his sons of ‘Vietnam,’ she had to try.

  “It’s alright, child.” Aurora pulled her close, telepathic voice soothing. “These won’t hurt you. They’re not like the others. You cannot help them.”

  Althea looked from one to the next as they shied away from her stare. “What do they want? Are they ghosts?”

  “Aha. There it is.” Aurora gestured at the distance. “That way. Yes, mite, ghosts would be one way to put it.”

  Old shops and cars blurred into smears of coffee brown and cream as Aurora pulled her along. Their walking pace felt casual, though the world flew past. Althea put a hand over her stomach to quell a twinge of nausea. Wisps of darkness slipped from spaces between objects, forming into pleading, hopeful faces, staring at her.

  “Why are they all watching me?”

  “They think you’re here for them.”

  Althea tugged on Aurora’s arm until she stopped and stared up at the woman with wide, glowing eyes. “Can I help them? I want to.”

  Aurora ran her free hand over Althea’s head, patting. Once again, the woman’s silken voice flooded her thoughts despite her lips not moving. “No, mite. What they need is a bit beyond you. They’re waiting to get out of this place.”

  “Oh.” Althea stared down at the road. “I’m sorry.”

  “It’s not your fault. You’ve got a certain energy about you they can feel. They think you’re something else.”

  Althea remembered the old man in Dr. Ruiz’s clinic. “Like that man in the hospital?”

  “I wasn’t there, mite.” Aurora smiled.

  “A man had a dark sick in him.” Althea traced a finger around her chest. “Around his air bags. He was almost at death. When he saw me, he asked why I made him wait. He knew I was coming.”

  “Oh.” Aurora nodded. “Yes. He mistook you for something else. A type of spirit that helps the dead go to where they belong. The same as these poor souls are doing right now.”

  Althea stared down at her chalk-white self. This place made her look far paler than natural and covered her legs with goosebumps. “I’m not a spirit, and he did not go to death.”

  “Aye, but he expected to. Come on, then. I promised I’d take you right home before anyone missed you.”

  Thoughts of the warm bed waiting for her chased away the sorrow of being unable to help these people… whatever they were. Althea bit her lower lip, casting a somber gaze upon the crowd of ethereal figures collecting in a nearby alleyway. A woman seemed trapped in the driver’s seat of a car, presumably where she’d died, and screamed for help. Althea got one step into a run toward her before Aurora jerked her back by the arm.

  “There’s nothing you can do for her. Don’t run off. If you let go of me, you could get lost here.”

  Althea pouted at the trapped woman as Aurora pulled her once more into a gliding leap. Minutes later, the terrain flattened to blurry desert racing past them. The shadow-city streaked off into the distance, a mass of black vapor swallowed by the smoky horizon behind them. The open ground southwest of Querq appeared familiar, but not the dozens of military vehicles scattered about a field strewn with smoking mechanical parts and burning craters. Grey-tinted shades of soldiers, judging by their clothing, staggered about. A few moaned, while others, still lost in the throes of war, fired spectral echoes of rifles at other spirits in different clothes. Others lay on the ground, injured and wailing.

  All at once, every one of them stopped what they were doing and shifted to face her. Most cast pleading glances, though a few regarded her with cold animosity. Something deep in their vacant eyes sent a shiver down her back and made her clamp her arms around the woman guiding her. Aurora’s skin pressed to hers felt icy, like something not even alive.

  “A-are you dead?” Althea shivered.

  The woman leaned her head back and laughed. “Not the last time I checked.”

  “Why are you so cold?” Fear beat discomfort, so she continued clinging.

  “Why do your eyes glow blue, or why are mine all black? It just is.”

  Aurora sprang upward again, pulling her into the air. They glided over an afterimage of before-time Querq, its streets packed full of confused citizens. Althea closed her eyes, holding on, unable to bear the sight of so many dead people. A strange sponginess engulfed her, a sensation she remembered meant they’d gone through a wall. By the time the touch of soft carpeting met her feet, grief for all the dead overwhelmed her, and she cried quietly to herself.

  “Shh,” whispered Aurora. “Do not worry, Althea. Most weren’t real ghosts.”

  “What?” Althea sniffled and looked up, finding herself at ho
me, in the bathroom. “They’re not?”

  “No, mite. Think of a holo-disk, the way it records data…”

  Althea’s blank stare stalled her.

  “Bother. You’ve no idea what a holo-disk is, do you?”

  Althea shook her head.

  “It’s just an imprint of things that happened. An image of trapped emotion, not people.”

  “Oh.” Althea stooped to grab her nightgown from the rug, but her fingers went through it.

  “One moment.” Aurora closed her eyes and a look of concentration settled on her features.

  The walls ceased wavering. Color spread over the sepia, and the once-neutral air became warm and dry. Aurora let go of her hand and patted her shoulder. Althea’s arms had once again taken on their usual suntan. Her companion, however, remained whiter than snow.

  “Thank you for helping Aaron. It was very brave of you to come with me to the city.”

  “I couldn’t let him die.” Althea gathered her nightgown, clutching the warm fabric against her chest. The chill of the astral world left her teeth chattering. “Is Querq safe? Is my family safe? Will the bad find us here?”

  She waited in silence, staring at the black square of window, dreading the answer. When the anticipation became intolerable, she glanced back over her shoulder.

  And found herself alone.

  Althea closed her eyes and swallowed her fear, gathering a sense of resolve in her heart as she slipped into her nightdress. She would make sure her home remained safe.

  She exited the bathroom and crept down the hallway of mismatched walls: wood paneling, green wallpaper, yellow paint, and beige wallpaper surrounded her in various sections as Father had repaired the house. His heavy snoring emanated from his half-closed door. She hurried past it and tiptoed up to the room she shared with her sister. Taking the knob in both hands, she tilted her entire body to turn it with excruciating slowness in an effort to remain quiet. The door eased open without creaking. She peeked in the gap, smiling at finding Karina still asleep—unaware she had been out of the house. Althea padded across the moonlit room to the bed and crawled in, snuggling under the blanket against her sister. After what seemed like hours on the other side, she adored the feeling of being close to a warm body and wrapped in blankets. Karina muttered in her sleep and slipped an arm over her. Althea tried to hold still, but Karina opened her eyes a moment later.

  “Where’d you go?” she whispered. “Your feet are so cold.”

  Althea pondered the degree of lie in saying ‘to the bathroom’ or ‘someone was hurt,’ and remained quiet, trying to think of how to answer.

  “Thea?” Karina opened her eyes. “Is everything all right?”

  “Yes,” she whispered. “A man was hurt. It’s long. I did not want to give you the worry. Can I tell it in the morning?”

  “Okay.”

  Karina got the full truth the next morning when they woke. Her reaction was everything Althea expected. The clingy part didn’t bother her, but her sister’s fear made her feel guilty. By the time they had dressed and started preparing breakfast, Karina had calmed. Althea grinned and made silly faces during the meal, but kept her promise to the powers that be. She attempted to use the fork no matter how frustrating it got.

  After they ate, she collected the dishes, but Father shooed her out of the kitchen since it was his turn to clean them. Karina rushed past on her way to the door, headed to the fields where she worked. Althea set about some of her morning chores, sweeping the downstairs hallway. She made it out onto the porch before Father, having finished the dishes, embraced her from behind.

  “Go, play a bit. The broom will be here later.”

  She let him take it from her and hugged him. “Are you going patrol?”

  “In the evening. The city people are showing us things today. How to work some of their machines.”

  Althea shivered.

  He kissed her forehead. “It is what it is, Althea.”

  Nervousness surrounded him. She clung tight to his chest. “I will not let them take me away.”

  Father relaxed, squeezed her shoulder, and trounced down the steps. Althea followed, holding his hand until he reached the place where the outsiders wanted to make adults go to school. A number of the Watch filtered in, as well as the men who ran the water purification system. Althea lingered in place, accepting a number of pats and hugs from passersby, staring at Father until he disappeared inside. She couldn’t walk for any significant distance without someone running over with a small cut, blister, or sprain, but at least no one tried to pray to her or kiss her feet anymore.

  Corinne called out to her from across the street, balancing a basket of clothes against her side to free an arm for a wave. She looked much better than the day they pulled her out of the creek.

  “You’re coming, right?” yelled Corinne.

  “Yes, we are.” Althea’s eyebrows drew close together.

  She wondered why everyone made such a big fuss over showering a baby. Perhaps because she thought it silly. It seemed far easier to give them baths. That the event coincided with Corinne’s twentieth birthday caused all the women of the town to want to make a major celebration of it.

  Althea pondered the unusual sensation of boredom as she wandered to the next cross street, where she stopped and lost a few minutes watching ants scurry about.

  At the next corner, a man and a woman in Division 0 uniforms waved at her, though she looked at them only long enough to return a polite smile before glancing away. They reminded her too much of the bad city, and they—as well as their magic toys—didn’t belong here. Distrust, rather than dislike, kept her at a distance. She contemplated crossing the street to avoid passing close to them, but felt guilty about it and kept going straight. They fawned over her for a little while before she found a polite opening to get away. Two blocks later, she cut across a front yard, arguing with herself about if the Many had made them come here.

  The city police had brought strange devices with them, which most of the adults adored. Althea frowned at the memory of grown men acting like ten-year-old boys celebrating their first successful hunt. They also brought that ‘electricity’ thing to Querq, but she feared the evil of that horrible metal city would soon follow, creeping into her home. Everyone there had been so angry all the time, so hurried. No one smiled at anyone there. They all kept their heads down and rushed to wherever they wanted to be. She would not let that happen here.

  Althea paused, crouching by a wooden plank fence, and looked back. The black-clad figures both watched her, chatting away. Sunlight glinted from their silver belts, making her squint. She sensed curiosity and pity from them, but nothing like what she’d expect if the bad old man sent them here. Content they meant no harm, she ducked through a gap between boards too small for an adult into a grassy space where a crowd of smaller children played.

  They welcomed her, unconcerned with the age difference. Althea felt most at ease among the little ones. While the kids her age and older weren’t as fearful of her as the Scrags had been, they treated her with an uncomfortable reverence. The five-to-nine-year-olds didn’t care she was—or had been—the Prophet and let her into their midst as an equal. Father said, as he always did, to give the older ones time. For now, she joined the chaos of little bodies running in circles, kicking a soft pearlescent orb about. She laughed, hiking her annoying shin-length dress up to her thighs so she could run. As soon as the ball got close enough, she kicked it toward the largest cluster of children she could find in a split-second search.

  “No, wrong way!” a boy yelled in Spanish.

  All of them laughed at her. She couldn’t help but giggle at their shocked faces.

  “You gotta kick it that way,” said an olive-skinned girl of about nine. “You’re on our team.”

  At that point, Althea noticed roughly half the children had scraps of red cloth tied around their heads. Since she lacked one, the team without them had claimed her.

  Their game involved two groups, e
ach trying to get the ball to go between a pair of buckets they called a ‘goal.’ Granted, with the majority of the participants being six or seven, her initial assumption of random kicking hadn’t been too far off the mark. It didn’t take her long to figure out each ‘side’ got a ‘point’ whenever someone on that team managed to get the ball to go between the pails. She didn’t want to exploit her size advantage, so she let her teammates have the ball whenever she could, though one girl—Esmerelda—was bigger than her despite being a year younger.

  A few weeks ago, Althea had run off into Old Querq to help Santiago, Diego, and Pedro. She’d found some people who had come from the modern city looking for her. They wanted to kidnap her too, thinking her property that belonged to one of those ‘corp-rations.’ They said she had been born eleven years ago—not twelve. Regardless, everyone continued to mistake her for being ten.

  Althea locked eyes with her, both of them taller than the swarm of screaming children running around. As luck would have it, they wound up on opposing sides. Esmerelda did not possess Althea’s hesitance about using size as an advantage and plowed down a handful of six-year-olds on her way to the goal, knocking them aside. One boy burst into tears after landing on his face.

  “Hey!” yelled Althea.

  The larger girl came right at her, likely expecting she’d have little trouble knocking aside a girl as scrawny as her. Althea braced her stance and caught Esmerelda by the shoulders, letting the ball go bouncing past.

  “Stop it.”

  Esmerelda blinked in shock, surprised Althea had the strength to halt her. She recovered in seconds, grabbing Althea by the arms and wrestling them around in a circle. Wailing from the kids she’d run over rose up in the background. The din of gleeful screaming faded to quiet as the others realized something was wrong.

  “Don’t be mean,” said Althea, grunting with exertion. “They’re little.”