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

by Susan Ee

You’d think that looking like a set of strung-out Ronald McDonalds with nicknames like Tweedledee and Tweedledum would strip them of all authority. But somehow, these guys seem to have a talent for going from joking to deadly in a heartbeat.

“So that’s your sister?” asks Dee in a quiet voice. “Yeah.” “The one you risked your life for?” “Yeah.” The twins nod politely in that automatic way that people do when they don’t want to say something insulting. “Your family any better?” I ask. Dee and Dum look at each other, assessing. “Nah,” says Dee. “Not really,” says Dum at the same time.

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

That, and I’m dying to know what he felt during our kiss. I know it doesn’t matter. I know it won’t change anything. I know it’s juvenile. Whatever. Can’t a girl be a girl for, like, five minutes?

part of me still expects her to cringe in disgust at the sight of the corpse. There is disgust there. But there’s also a flash of longing. Hunger. She darts a glance at me. Shame. She stops struggling and looks right at me. She sees my hesitation. She sees I’m no longer running to save her. She sees judgment in my eyes. “Ryn-Ryn,” she cries.

Men grab my arms, and I can tell by their roughness that they expect a major struggle. We Young girls are getting a reputation.

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. It doesn’t even surprise me much that she somehow survived.

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

Her face radiates joy like a little girl who just found out she did something right for the first time in her life. I nod. “Good job, Mom.” Kind of a disturbing eye-opener to realize that your own parent needs encouragement from you.

“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.”

Of course she’s right. How bad are things when your clinically insane mother is more rational than you are? Raffe.

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.

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.

People and animals aren’t that different. We can all tell when we’re being led to slaughter.

“I’m going to poke this through your eye unless you get those monsters off our backs,” whispers Alpha. I still think he used to be a company guy, but he looks like he really means it. Maybe life in an office is tougher than I thought.

“If everyone’s running,” says Alpha, “it’s guaranteed a lot of us won’t make it.” “If we leave people behind, it’s guaranteed that none of them will make it,” I say. “Girl’s got a point,” says Tattoo.

But I’m mesmerized by this window into my sister’s past. If she had to go through this because I wasn’t there to protect her, then I don’t deserve to be protected from watching what she went through.

My intense study of him must tickle his spy sense because he looks over at me. I know that, as a soldier, he probably sized up all the others around him, the weapons they carry, the best escape route. But as an angel, I doubt that he bothered to take much stock of the humans. When he looks at me, it’s the look of someone noticing a person for the first time, proving yet again that an angel’s arrogance knows no bounds. Which, now that I think about it, increases the likelihood that this is Raffe. He does a full evaluation of me, taking in the cut and curled hair accented with peacock feathers, the blue and silver makeup ribbons chasing around my eyes and cheekbones, the silky dress that clings to every part of my body. 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.

Walking into an angel party with demon wings is a little like walking onto a shooting range disguised as a target.

Lots of distraction—that’s good. Murderous angels everywhere—that’s bad. That’s about as far as my frozen brain will go.

In my head, I run through a list of vulnerable body parts that makes size and strength irrelevant. Eyes, throat, groin, knees—even the biggest, toughest men have vulnerable spots that take very little force to damage. This thought soothes me enough that I can start looking for a way out.

His eyes are focused on my knife and face. Easy to do since my hands are up near my face in a fighter stance. But my heel is still on my back foot, several inches higher than my front foot. No way can I have decent footwork limping around like this. So I do the only thing I can do. 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. He starts a slow smile that melts my bones.

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

Males—they’ve all trained against each other. They expect attacks to certain zones on their bodies and from someone who’s used to relying on upper-body strength. And they always, always underestimate women.

Why bother attacking their strengths when you can go straight for their weaknesses?

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.

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. He runs with me toward the bluff. Two steps into it, his wings burst out from their wing coverings. Madeline’s sparkly white feathers explode behind us as giant bat wings spread out. Freedom in the shape of demon’s wings. I want to laugh and cry at the same time. I’m in Raffe’s arms, flying.

My only thought is that I am not going to end up truly dead this time in Raffe’s arms. I am not going to be one more wound on his soul.

His head is below water before I can reach him. I tug up on him but his giant wings are a huge drag and I’m pulled down instead. We both sink below water. Even as we submerge, he still doesn’t thrash. I’m awed by how much iron will it would take to override his instinctive needs. And how much trust.

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. But somewhere along the way, the mood changes. He keeps going, his chest convulsing in spasms that sound a lot like a weak laugh but isn’t. 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. We hold each other in our little pocket of warmth, hidden from the monsters of the night by the mist swirling around us and the bloody surf pounding at our feet.

Raffe bursts out laughing. It’s a beautiful thing—rich and carefree. It calls to me to laugh along with him. “You are so great at creative solutions,” he says still chuckling. “They usually involve ripping, tearing, kicking, or stabbing, but they’re creative.”

“You’re not Fallen, are you?” The question pops out of my mouth before my head can censor it. “From everything I’ve heard, that would just make me more sexy to you Daughters of Men.” He finishes taping the last bit of the blanket. “What is it that you all see in bad boys?”

“Yup. A sensitive girl. That just defines you, Penryn.” The firelight softens his features and warms his skin. “But if you must have an ego boost for your tender side, I will admit that you looked great with wings.” Raffe says this last part in a wistful voice.

“There’s no way around it, is there?” I ask. “We’re mortal enemies and I should be trying to kill you and everyone like you.” He leans over, touches the tip of his forehead to mine, and closes his eyes. “Yes.” His gentle breath caresses my lips as he says the word. I close my eyes too, and try to focus on the warmth of his forehead resting on mine.

The woman is absorbed in whatever she’s doing and doesn’t notice us. She’s drawing something on its chest. I can’t see her face but there’s only one person she could be. My mother is alive and apparently uninjured. Two men holding rifles stand on either side of her. I’m guessing by the bulging arms of one and the yuppie collar of the other that they’re probably Tattoo and Alpha. If so, Mom must have impressed the hell out of them during the escape or they wouldn’t be protecting her as she draws on a scorpion.

Please don’t scream, Chloe. That would be the end of Clara. She was strong enough to survive a scorpion attack, strong enough to crawl out of being buried alive and escape from monsters on Alcatraz. But having her little girl scream at the sight of her would shatter her into so many pieces that nothing could glue her back together.

“There she is.” I carefully pull out the bear and sword. I proudly flip the bridal veil skirt to show him the scabbard. Raffe stares at the disguised sword for a second before commenting. “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.”

“Have you named her yet?” he asks. “She likes powerful names so maybe you could appease her by giving her a good one.” I bite my lip as I remember telling Dee-Dum what I named my sword. “Um, I could rename her anything she likes.” I give him a cheesy smile. He looks like he’s bracing himself for the worst. “She gets named once by each carrier. If you’ve named her, she’s stuck with it for as long as she’s with you.” Damn.

He sighs. “I miss the days when females could be ordered around and they’d have no choice.” “Sure that wasn’t just a myth? I’m pretty sure nobody ever ordered my mom around—ever.” “You’re probably right. The unruliness of the women in your family must go back for generations. You’re like a plague upon the land.” “So long as we’re also a plague upon angels, I’m sure everyone else will forgive us.”

He glares at me. “I’ve had to watch you die once, isn’t that enough?” “All you have to do is make sure it doesn’t happen again.” I give him a sunny smile. “Simple.”

Beliel’s tortured screams fill the night. Everyone watches as he gets mercilessly torn and stung. Aside from Raffe, who is only protecting his wings, not a single living thing comes to his aid. No one even cringes sympathetically for him. Beliel was right. He is unloved and unwanted.

“There you are,” says Burnt as he reaches for Paige. “You finally came in handy for something, didn’t you? It’s about time someone took that reject down.” I push Paige behind me and yank the bear from my sword. I’m almost glad that I get a chance to fight him. I have a special hatred for Burnt, the Kidnapper of Helpless Little Girls.

He struggles to breathe. One… Two… His eyes lose focus and gaze at nothing. There’s no life in them. I stare at him for a second longer to make sure he’s dead, reassuring myself that angel swords really can kill angels. I look up. Raffe and the others are frozen in the middle of their fight. Everyone is staring at us. A human girl. Killing a warrior angel. In a sword fight. Impossible. I’m frozen too. My arms are still up, holding the blade, poised to strike again. I glance back at the dead body of Burnt, trying to wrap my mind around the fact that I killed an angel warrior.

“Whoa.” That’s about the most intelligent thing I can say right now. Did Raffe say something about an archangel sword intimidating other angel swords if she could gain their respect? I swivel my eyes to look at the blade in my hands. Was that you, Pooky Bear?

We must be quite the sight. Raffe in his red mask with his demon wings spread out in all their scythe-edged glory. A scrawny teenage Daughter of Man brandishing an archangel sword. And a little girl stitched-up to look and behave like a nightmare who is clutching a pair of angel wings.

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.

Raffe is warm and strong and he feels like home. Our faces inch closer as the swarm shifts. For a moment, I can feel his breath feathering my cheek. We’ll fly wherever the swarm takes us, and we’ll land wherever they do. And when we arrive, I have no doubt that I’ll have to be fully alert and ready for anything. Until then, I can bask in the knowledge that my family is safe for the moment and I’m with Raffe again. The sun is rising, giving the dark ocean below a glow that shimmers with blue, gold, and green. It’s a new day in the World After.