World After (Penryn & the End of Days, #2)

by Susan Ee

Between the street gangs, the cults, and the Resistance, I wonder how long it will be before everyone is part of one group or another. Even the end of the world can’t keep us from wanting to belong, I guess.

“Can I name your sword?” “No.” I pull out a pair of jeans that might fit and one sock. “Why not?” “Already has a name.” I continue digging through the pile for a matching sock. “What is it?” “Pooky Bear.” His friendly face suddenly becomes serious. “You’re naming your collector’s-item, kick-ass sword that’s made to maim and kill, specifically designed to bring your ginormous enemies to their knees and hear the lamentation of their women—Pooky Bear?”

It takes me a while to figure out what to do. I finally decide to slice the bottom of a teddy bear and jam it onto the hilt. I’ll just have to pull off the bear if I need to use the sword. “Come on, admit it, Pooky Bear,” I say to the sword. “You love your new look. All the other swords will be jealous.”

Nothing. “Right. Well, I guess I have nothing better to do now than to decorate the teddy bear with ribbons and bows. What do you think of dusky pink?” The room wavers, then morphs.

Someone flips him over. Pain screams and claws into his back. A small hand slaps him. He opens his eyes for a moment. Against the glow of the sky, dark hair flutters in the breeze. Intense eyes fringed with long lashes. Lips so red the girl must have been biting them. It takes him a moment to realize she’s the Daughter of Man who risked herself to help him. She’s asking him something. Her voice is insistent but melodic. It’s a good sound to die to.

His last thought before he blacks out is that his Watchers would have liked this girl.

“Of course you’re fine.” She keeps walking. “You’re the devil’s bride and these are his creatures.”

She sees me once in a guy’s arms and she has us married already. I wonder what Raffe would think of my mom being his mother-in-law.

If someone told me that moms have magical powers, I’d have no trouble believing that.

I whimper again, pulling my knees to my chest under the thin blanket. He leans over and whispers, “Hush. Shhh.”

Whatever the reason, he reluctantly pulls the cushions from the back of my couch. He pauses, looking like he’s about to change his mind. Then he slides in behind me. At first, his hold is stiff and uncomfortable. But as he begins to relax, the tension in his face eases. He strokes my hair and whispers, “Shhh.” Whatever comfort he’s giving me, I’m giving at least that much back just by being a warm body for him to hold at a time when he needs it most. I snuggle closer to him in my sleep and my whimpering subsides to a contented sigh. It almost hurts to see Raffe closing his eyes and holding me the way a kid might hold a stuffed animal for comfort.

If I ever see the twins again, it looks like I owe them a zombie-girl mud fight.

“I may have lost faith in humanity. Maybe they’re right to exterminate us.” “What does that have to do with you traveling with us?” “You’re a hero. I’m hoping you’ll restore my faith and show me that we’re worth saving.” “I am so not a hero.” “You saved my life back at the aerie. By definition, you’re my hero.” “I left you in a basement to die.” “You broke me out of the grasp of a living horror when I thought all hope was gone. You gave me the opportunity to crawl back to life when no one else could.” She glances over at me, her eyes shining in the dark. “You’re a hero, Penryn, whether you like it or not.”

It’s painful to see that people prefer a bad guy who looks like an angel to a good guy who looks like a demon.

“You would have saved yourself so much hassle if you had listened to reason and joined us,” says Beliel. “That little Daughter of Man who died in your arms? She could have been yours. No one would have said no. No one would have dared to try to take her from you.” With a vicious growl, Raffe attacks.

Because she looked like a monster, that’s why. And it never occurred to me that monsters might feel pain.

He rips open the package and pulls out the thread. It’s the same snowy white as his wings. He holds the thread and hair together and twirls them with his thumb and forefinger so that the two strands intertwine. Holding the ends together, he steps over to the sword that lies on the counter and wraps the strand around the sword’s grip. “Stop complaining,” he says to the sword. “It’s for luck.” Luck. Luck. Luck.

But it’s not until his eyes meet mine that a jolt of recognition passes between us. I have no doubt that it’s Raffe. But he fights his recognition of me. For a second, his defenses fall and I can see the turmoil behind his eyes. He saw me die. This must be a mistake. This glittery girl doesn’t look anything like the street waif he traveled with. Yet… His step falters and he pauses, staring at me.

The angels around Raffe fan their wings as Uriel approaches. If Raffe doesn’t fan his wings, too, Uriel is bound to notice him. Maybe he’ll stop to talk to him. Will he recognize Raffe’s voice? Walking into an angel party with demon wings is a little like walking onto a shooting range disguised as a target. I try to warn Raffe with my eyes as we drift over to him, but he seems to be in a trance as he stares at me.

Being responsible for Mom and Paige is nearly crushing me already. I take comfort in reminding myself that I am just a kid, not a hero. Heroes have a tendency to die in horrible ways. Somehow, I’ll get through this, and then I’ll lead the quietest life anyone could possibly have in the World After.

I kick him in the face point blank with my high heel. He wasn’t expecting that. The angel flies back off the stage. “It really is you,” says Raffe. He’s staring at me, stunned. His fist is mid-air but paused in the middle of pummeling the hell out of Beliel who is bloody and staggering.

RAFFE RIPS the tuxedo jacket off my dazed attacker and drapes it over me. It covers my entire upper body including my head. I can peek through the slit of the collar as I hide in the oversized jacket. A warm arm enfolds me like a shield around my shoulder and turns me toward the side of the stage. “Stay with me,” says a familiar masculine whisper from above my head.

“Don’t talk. You’ll just spoil my fantasy of rescuing an innocent damsel in distress as soon as you open your mouth.”

Raffe looks over at the bloody knife in my hand. “If I still had any doubts that it was you, that would do it.” He gestures toward my opponent rolling on the ground with his hands cradling his package. “He should have been polite and just let us by,” I say. “Way to teach him some respect. I always wanted to meet a girl who fights dirty,” says Raffe.

I look up and see Raffe watching me. I feel a wave of awkwardness. Raffe grabs me around the waist and lifts me into his arms like in an old-time movie. His arms cradle my back and knees. I reflexively wrap my arms around his neck. For a moment, I’m confused, and the silliest thoughts flood through my head. “Don’t let me go,” he says.

They fly up through wisps of fog lit by pinpoints of firelight as we glide over the black waves. Angels are supposed to be beautiful creatures of light but the ones chasing us look more like a cloud of demons spewing forth from the mist. Raffe must be thinking something similar because he tightens his grip around my waist as if to say, “not this one.” He banks into a turn, flying farther away

His laugh is weak and in need of air but it may still be the greatest sound I’ve ever heard. It’s full of warmth and genuine mirth, as only a living, breathing—um—person can have. He reaches out and grabs my arm. He drags me to him along the sand. My dress bunches up, more sand than fabric, but I don’t care. He pulls me into his arms and holds me tight. He is the one pocket of warmth in a sea of ice. Being in his arms feels like the home I never had. He’s still panting his laugh that rumbles through his chest. My chest moves with his, making me smile.

He holds me so tight that if an army of scorpions came and tried to drag me out of his arms, they wouldn’t be able to. I stroke his hair and repeat the words of comfort he whispered to me the last time we were together. “Shhh,” I say. “I’m here. I’m right here.” He’s as warm as the afternoon sun on a summer day.

“How do you feel?” he asks. I answer through chattering teeth. “As well as can be expected after a swim in angel-infested waters.” Raffe puts his hand on my forehead. “You humans are so fragile. If time doesn’t kill you off, it’s germs or sharks or hypothermia.”

“What happened back there at the old aerie? I saw you get stung by the scorpion. I watched you die. How did you survive?” I explain about the scorpion sting paralyzing and slowing down the heart and breathing so that the victim seems dead. “I thought for sure I’d lost you.” Lost me? I stare into the fire without seeing it. “I thought I’d lost you too.” The words barely come out.

“That must have been entertaining.” “No, it really wasn’t. It was kind of…” heartbreaking. “Heartbreaking.” I blink when I realize what just slipped out of my mouth. “I mean…” Nothing comes to mind that I can substitute for what I just said. “Heart.” He looks deeply into the flames. “Breaking.” The sounds flow out between his lips like they’re new to him, like he’s never said them before. He nods. “Yeah. I suppose that’s one way to put it.”

“I hated losing her.” His voice is a low growl. “I hadn’t realized just how attached I’d gotten.” He reaches and moves a strand of wet hair out of my face. “How dangerously addictive she could be.” His gaze pins me to my spot and I can’t move, can’t breathe. “Maybe a girl needs to hear that. Maybe she wants to be with you, too.” The words come out in a rushed whisper. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. He shakes his head. “It can’t be.” “Why?” “Rules. Custom. Danger. It’s dangerous to be with me.” “It’s dangerous to be without you.”

I can’t help myself. I lean close to him so that my face is just a kiss away. “We’re really scary, aren’t we?” He looks at my lips almost involuntarily. But he doesn’t back off or lean forward one millimeter. He arches his brow at me. “Daughters of Men are truly dangerous. Not to mention truly annoying.” He shrugs. “In a yappy, occasionally cute kind of way.”

lift my arms like a child who wants to be picked up. He hesitates for a second, looking at me. Is he remembering holding me in his arms at the old aerie when he thought I was dead? What must it be like for him to hold someone this many times after being isolated for so long? He lifts me in his arms, cradling me while I wrap my arms around his neck. My cheek brushes against his as he picks me up. Warmth flows from the touch and I resist the impulse to nuzzle.

But his arms are wrapped tightly around me and his chest is warm. I lean my head against his muscular shoulder and close my eyes. He rubs his cheek against my hair.

“Do you know how many kills this sword has?” “It’s a perfect disguise, Raffe.” “This sword is not just an angel sword. She’s an archangel sword. Better than an angel sword, in case that’s not clear. She intimidates the other angel swords.” “What, the other swords quake in their scabbards when they see her?” I walk over to the pile of scattered junk by Captain Jake’s boat. “Yes, if you must know,” he says following me. “She was made for ultimate respect. How is she supposed to get that disguised as a teddy bear in a bridal gown?” “It’s not a bridal gown, it’s a skirt for her scabbard. And it’s cute.” “She hates cute. She wants to maim and scar cute.”

He’s silent for so long I’m beginning to think he didn’t hear me when he finally says, “Pooky. Bear.” “It was just a little joke. I didn’t know.” “I’ve mentioned that names have power, right? Do you realize that when she fights battles, she’s going to have to announce herself to the opposing sword? She’ll be forced to say something ridiculous like, ‘I am Pooky Bear, from an ancient line of archangel swords.’ Or, ‘Bow down to me, Pooky Bear, who has only two other equals in all the worlds.’ ” He shakes his head. “How is she going to get any respect?”

“Look, I’m sure I could find you a nice little bomb shelter somewhere with two years worth of supplies.” “I’m guessing those are all taken.” “And I’m guessing someone would happily give one up for you, especially if I asked nicely.” He gives me a dry smile. “You could take a little vacation from all this and come out after things settle down. Hole up, wait it out, be safe.” “You’d better be careful. You might be mistaken for someone who’s worried about me.”

He glares at me. “I’ve had to watch you die once, isn’t that enough?”

Raffe holds me tighter. “It’s about time you showed some sense. You should be afraid.” “I’m shivering because I’m freezing.” “You’re cute when you’re afraid.” I give him a dirty look. “Yeah, you’re cute when you’re afraid too.” He actually bursts out laughing. “You mean I’m devastatingly handsome when I’m not afraid. Because you’ve never seen me afraid.” “I said you were cute, not ‘devastatingly handsome.’ ”

I swivel my eyes to look at the blade in my hands. Was that you, Pooky Bear?

Raffe grabs my hand and begins running after them as the last of the swarm passes by. He swings me up and pulls me into his arms. I hold him as tightly as my trembling muscles will let me. A few steps of running and we’re leaping over the cliff into the air.

My dad once told me life would get complicated when I grew up. I’m guessing this isn’t what he meant. My mom, on the other hand, agreed with him, and I’m guessing this kind of thing is exactly what she meant.