Free Angel Fever by L. A. Weatherly Page B

dark – yet for a second he found his fingers resting on the door handle. But there could be no debate, none – he had to find out, and the sooner he left, the sooner he’d be back. He let his hand drop and turned away.
    When he was far enough away down the dirt road, he broke into a run.
    Alex had been to Golden before: a small town high in the Rockies where tanned, perfect people shopped at specialty grocery stores. Now it had been made into an Eden to deal with the Denver overflow and a concrete wall girded it, with fresh barbed wire glinting at its top. As Alex approached from the hills, he could see new housing had been thrown up, nestling among the ten-million-dollar homes like poor relations.
    Lights were still on, even at this hour – people were savouring having electricity again. Alex grimaced; many of the lights were blue and flickering. Raziel had a depressingly firm grasp of American psychology all right: offer them TV, and they’d come.
    Finding a good spot was harder than he’d imagined; he was acutely aware of time ticking past and of Willow left back in the truck. Finally he settled on a hill to the north near what looked like a service entrance. He could see the dark shapes of army trucks just inside the gates.
    Not many angels were out, but enough. Lying on his stomach, Alex held his rifle to his shoulder and forced himself to be patient as the creatures swooped across his crosshairs. For at least a quarter of an hour, none gave him what he needed.
    Then his chance came.
    A small cluster appeared, circling together. Alex began tracking them closely. “C’mon, c’mon,” he whispered, his muscles relaxed even if his mind wasn’t. “You can’t stick together all night…”
    As if overhearing, one angel peeled away from the other two; in the magnified lens, Alex could see the fiercely beautiful male face. He followed the angel as it started to dive, focusing only on the halo’s pure white centre.
Not yet…not yet…now!
    The crosshairs exploded into light. As white fragments twisted in the moonlight, Alex jerked his head away from the lens and looked for the other two. There they were, still close by. Ordinarily, an angel would feel another’s death intensely – react at once.
    The angels kept gliding away, great wings calmly stirring at the air.
    Alex lay without moving as he stared after them. It was true then. He hadn’t really believed otherwise. But now, faced with proof, for a second he wanted to just go berserk and start gunning down every angel he saw, whether it gave away his position or not.
    Get a grip, Kylar,
he ordered himself coldly. Dragging himself to a sitting position, Alex watched the angels still flying over the town like they owned it.
    Okay, so this was it – the new reality they all had to deal with. And somehow he still had to lead his team, though he didn’t even know any more where he could lead them
to
…or why. Alex got to his feet wearily, hardly caring if security cameras spotted him.
    “Stay down!” hissed a voice.
    Alex’s head snapped towards it – and then in a burst of light, he was knocked off his feet; around him ethereal blades of grass flattened as energy howled past. He rose up on his elbows and stared dumbly at the gleaming remains of an angel.
    Willow appeared through the trees, silenced pistol in hand. She dropped to her knees beside him. “It almost got you,” she said. Her knuckles on her pistol were stark white in the moonlight. “We’re too close for me to bring out my angel, so I had to…” She stopped, swallowed. After a pause, she added, “You forgot to change your aura.”
    Words had left him. “Good shot,” he got out finally.
    I had a good teacher,
she always responded. This time she just stared at him, and he realized how upset she was. “Alex, you—”
    A noise came from the nearby parking lot. “Wait,” whispered Alex, putting his hand on Willow’s arm. Someone was walking their way. “Get down,” he muttered, and