World After (16 page)

H
E
LEAPS
for Beliel and slaps his wings into him, clearly meaning to slash through him.

Beliel spins out of the way, partly avoiding the hit. He tosses a work lamp in Raffe’s direction.

The light crashes onto the pier. It flashes with a loose connection, lighting the fighters in a random strobe light.

Blood drips down Beliel’s sneering face and arms. “Admit it. You like the new wings. Why bother with fluffy and feathery when you can have freedom and power?”

“I could ask the same of you, Beliel.” Raffe stalks menacingly toward Beliel.

“I’ve had my life of freedom and rampaging. It’s time for a change. A little respectability. A little well-deserved admiration, don’t you think?” They circle each other like sharks getting ready to attack. Beliel’s limp is gone now that he’s lured Raffe.

“Respectability and admiration are beyond you,” says Raffe. “You’re nothing but a pathetic minion for angels.”

“I am not a minion!” His face turns red and furious. “I have never been a minion. Not for devils, not for angels, not for anybody!” The randomly flashing light highlights the stark shadows of his blood-streaked face.

Raffe leaps for Beliel again. But his motion is interrupted by a net falling on him from the night sky.

Raffe rolls on the pier, tangled in the net.

Get up, get up!

All the fight rages inside me. Can I watch as Raffe gets executed? Every fiber of my being chants,
No, no, no
.

What can I do? What can I do?

Raffe isn’t struggling against the net like I expected. Instead, he whisks open his wings. The scythe-like hooks on his wings snag the net.

Then his wings slice up, cutting the mesh.

It falls around him like a dropped veil as he leaps up, ready for a fight.

Scorpions drop out of the sky, a couple of them landing on Raffe. He ducks but their glancing blows shove him off balance.

Raffe’s wings, arms, and legs whip around him. Three scorpions go down, writhing in pain. That still leaves half a dozen more plus Beliel. As if that isn’t enough, three more land on the outskirts of the fight.

I pluck off my bear and pull out my sword, ready to dive in.

Mom grabs my shirt and yanks me so hard that I land on my butt like a little kid.

Luckily, Raffe seems to be able to hold his own. I doubt that he’s made peace with his new wings but he’s at least learned to control them better than the last time I saw him.

He’s also a fearless fighter. I hadn’t quite realized just how fierce he could be, but now that I think about it, this may be the first time I’ve seen him fight when it wasn’t immediately after a major injury. The sword’s memories only had him fighting with a sword, which was something to see, but this is more of a ferocious dance.

I’m sure Raffe hasn’t fully recovered yet, but he’s a wonder to watch. He’s fast. Faster than the scorpions that keep trying to sting
him. A single scorpion is no more a match for him than a fire ant is to a person.

He’s far outnumbered, though. Yet, he doesn’t seem that concerned as he slowly slashes his way closer to Beliel.

Beliel gets the picture and takes off into the night sky. Apparently, his evil health plan covers wing injuries because his wings seem to work just fine.

Raffe takes off after him.

I watch him get farther from me. He never even knew I was near.

He disappears into the darkness like a fading dream.

I stare at the sky where he vanished for longer than I probably should.

T
HE
SCORPIONS
hesitate before the first ones leave the ground. I assume they’re flying after Raffe, but I’m not entirely sure. There’s a certain reluctance to the way they take off. Almost half of them stay on the ground, looking at each other, unsure.

These have to be the worst minions ever. Whatever was bred into them, courage wasn’t on the list. No wonder Beliel had to fight off Raffe for so long before the scorpions arrived.

Eventually, all the ones who can take off do. Half a dozen are left bleeding and dead on the splintered dock, while a few writhe and hiss in pain beside them. They don’t look like they’re capable of much harm any more, but I keep a close eye on them, just in case.

Mom lets out a deep sigh beside me. Clara, though, still seems to be frozen in fear. She’s probably going through some post-traumatic stress issues right now after seeing so many scorpions.

It’s time for us to get out of here. Somewhere safe for the night where we can cook up some crazy scheme to rescue Paige. But even I can’t stir up much enthusiasm for nutty schemes right now.

I am just a girl. I am no match for these monsters. They may have looked weak compared to Raffe, and I may have felt like an
equal in some ways during my journey with him, but after seeing what I just saw, reality sinks in.

It would be suicide to sneak onto Alcatraz Island. It’s crawling with these monsters and there’s no way of getting back out.

Despite my erratic behavior, both Mom and Clara still depend on me to decide the timing of our exit out of here. We’re in the shadows and should have a decent shot of making it out unnoticed.

I listen for enemies and monsters. All I hear are the terrified sobs of the people locked in the container. The sounds are muffled now, probably to avoid attention, but the captives can’t seem to stop themselves.

The container lights up with the intermittent flashes of the work lamp lying on the ground. Behind the rollup gate, the prisoners crowd together, giving me an impression of despair and grime every time the light flashes.

I get ready to sprint from the pile of crates we’re hiding behind. But I can’t seem to leave. My eyes keep drifting over to the people locked in the container.

In theory, it would be a no-brainer to run over and let them out. It would only take a couple of minutes to free a bunch of people from whatever horrors await them.

If I had the key.

Beliel hung it on one of the lamps but now, I’m not sure which of the two lamps he used. If it was on the one he threw at Raffe, it could take an hour to find it.

I close my eyes, trying to shut out the sights and sounds of the prisoners. I need to concentrate on Paige and Mom. I can’t just be distracted by everybody who needs help, because we all need help now. Desperately.

I glance at Mom and see the terror on her face. She’s moving her lips silently and rocking back and forth. These are real monsters straight out of her nightmares. Clara is looking even worse, if that’s possible.

I need to get up and get us out of here. I need to take care of my own people.

A heartbroken, terrified sob reaches across the pier and grabs me.

I try to ignore it.

But I can’t.

That could have been Paige before those angel monsters got to her. It’s almost certainly someone else’s sister, daughter, or mom. And wouldn’t it have been a wonder if someone out there could have helped Paige the way I could help these people?

Ugh. Why can’t I shut down that stupid thought?

Yeah, all right already.

I get up from my crouch. Worry and fear intensify in my mother’s face when she sees me eyeing the path to the prisoners. I don’t have to worry about her following me. Sometimes, being paranoid really does save your life.

There’s certainly no chance Clara will follow me. She has excellent reasons to be petrified of the scorpions. But along with the fear, there’s something in her eyes I didn’t expect.

Pride.

She expects me to rescue them. She still thinks I’m a stupid hero. A part of her would be disappointed if I just walk away.

That almost makes me abandon the whole idea.

But, of course, I don’t.

I dash out from the relative safety of the darker shadows.

T
HE
INJURED
scorpions notice me right away. My heart practically stops when they turn and hiss at me.

I can almost feel the excruciating pain of the sting, the panic of losing control of my body while still conscious. The thought of having to go through that again makes me run so hard I think I might pass out.

In my freaked-out state, I don’t pay enough attention to my footing and I slip on blood.

I catch myself from falling by doing an awkward dance of hand and sword balancing.

Focus.

Do not let the scorpions hurt you twice just because you’re freaking over the possibility.

I shove everything—fear, hope, thoughts—into the vault in my head and slam the door shut before they explode back out. It’s getting trickier to open that vault door.

The only thing in the world now is my path to the prisoners’ container. I rub the sole of my shoe on the ground to wipe off the blood.

For all their hissing and screeching, the injured scorpions stay down. I keep an eye on them to make sure they’re not crawling toward me.

Before I walk into the circle of light, I look around to make sure there are no scorpions, angels, or winged rats headed my way. It doesn’t help that my eyes are already adjusting to the light, making the shadows that much darker.

I dive into the light like I’m jumping into water.

I feel instantly exposed.

Anyone on the pier can see me now. I run as fast as I can to the still-standing light by the metal jail. All the prisoners quiet down as if holding their collective breaths.

The key is not on the standing work light or anywhere near it.

I look back at the flashing lamp that Beliel threw on the pier. The key could have flown off anywhere.

Either I commit to looking for it in this sea of splintered planks, or I give up and make sure Mom and Clara get out of here safely.

Or, I could see if my sword can cut through metal.

It easily cut through bones during my dream training, and it’s supposed to be so special. Before I can think about it, I lift the sword and slice down.

The blade easily cuts through the lock and the gate’s metal tab.

Whoa.

Not bad.

I lift my sword for the second lock. But before I can cut it, there’s a rustling behind me.

I spin with my sword still above me, half-convinced an injured scorpion has crawled over, ready to strike.

But it’s not an injured scorpion.

It’s a healthy one.

It folds its gossamer wings as if it just landed. It stalks toward me, barefoot on its much too human-like feet. Somehow, I might feel better if they had clawed feet or something else that made them look less human.

Two more scorpion angels land behind the first one.

There’s only one more lock. I spin around and chop at it with my blade.

It comes flying off. The chain-link gate hangs open now. All they have to do is roll it up and run.

Instead, the prisoners huddle in the back, frozen in terror.

“Come on!” I slam on the side of the container to shock them into action. “Run!”

I don’t wait to see if they do. I’ve just put Mom and Clara in danger of a horrifying death. I could kick myself for not convincing them to leave without me.

The gate rattles behind my back.

The freed prisoners begin to run, scattering everywhere, their footsteps pounding on the wooden pier.

I run in the opposite direction of Mom and Clara, hoping to draw the scorpions away from them.

Then I hear my mother.

She screams a bloodcurdling screech of terror.