End of Days (Penryn & the End of Days, #3)

by Susan Ee

A cloud of scorpion-tailed, man-sized locusts blotting out the sky. And in the middle of it all, a demon with enormous wings carrying a teenage girl.

But we’re not roaches or monkeys or monsters, no matter what the angels think of us. We are still the same people we once were. At least, we are on the inside. I hope so, anyway.

‘If you’re worried about pervs breaking into the house, it’s not going to make a difference whether I’m in this outfit or in baggy jeans and a sweatshirt. Either they’re decent human beings or they’re not. Their actions are on them.’

‘You’re serious? You want me to marry a pig farmer who knows how to use his pig poke to protect me? Really?’ ‘I’m just saying you should pick a man who knows that he’s not worthy of you and who will dedicate his life to provide for you and protect you.’ He presses another piece of gauze next to the first one. I wince again. ‘And make sure he’s kind to you and treats you with respect in every way. Otherwise, he can expect a visit from me.’ His voice is hard and unmerciful.

We fly in each other’s arms in the rain over a smoldering hell.

She has seen me in the arms of a demon, or what she thinks is a demon. She has seen me pop out of Beliel, riding a creature from hell. She has seen me in the company of a group of tortured, half-skinned Fallen. And she just saw me kiss an angel.

‘Who’s going to save us? Who’s crazy enough and strong enough to hold everyone together while we ram our heads against this impossible enemy?’ The wind flaps the jackets of the dead around us. ‘Me.’

‘We can all go our separate ways and die alone.’ My voice becomes firm, and I try to inject steel into it. ‘Or we can stay together and make our final stand.’

‘You’re right,’ I say. ‘We’re going to keep ferrying them for as long as it takes, because some of us will create a diversion and keep the angels occupied.’ ‘Who’s going to do that?’ I think about that for a minute before answering. ‘Heroes.’

‘This is Penryn Young, Daughter of Man, Killer of Angels.’

‘They’ll come,’ says Dee. ‘You’re the only leader we’ve got.’

‘You’re a poisonous frog now?’ I ask. ‘Ribbit.’ He turns and flicks out his tongue at me. It’s blue. My eyes widen. ‘You dyed your tongue too?’ Dee smiles. ‘Nah. It’s just Gatorade.’ He lifts up a bottle half-full of blue liquid. ‘Gotcha.’ He winks. ‘“Hydrate or Die,” man,’ says Dum

I don’t know what all those power-hungry people like Uriel are thinking. As far as I can tell, a leader ends up doing all the worrying and still needs to pitch in for the regular work.

‘Maybe they’re sick of being nothing more than rats rummaging through the trash and running for their lives.’ Dee sticks his tongue out at the kids sitting on shoulders. ‘Maybe they’re ready to be human again, if only for an hour.’

And now there’s this. A talent show. Silly and nonsensical. Stupid and fun. Together. Laughing. Being part of the human race. Knowing about the horrors that have happened and will happen but choosing to live anyway. Maybe there’s an art to being human.