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

by Susan Ee

“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.”

“Since my enemies have determined that you’re my Daughter of Man.” I swallow. My throat is dry. “They have?” “Beliel saw us together at the masquerade. Even with my mask on, Uriel knew it was me on the beach with you.” “So am I?” I whisper. “Your Daughter of Man?”

In the meantime, my body slowly arches back until we touch. The second my thigh touches his, he moans and shifts, throwing his arm around me. He pulls me back toward his hard body. What do I do? The entire length of my back is now pressed against his chest. What do I do? Hard. Warm. Muscular. Perspiration prickles my forehead. When did it get so hot in here?

“You’re in love with him, aren’t you?” he rasps. “You think you’re so special. Special enough to catch an archangel’s love.” He makes a dry, rattling noise that I think must be a laugh. “Do you know how many people have thought they could win his love over the centuries? That he’d be loyal to them just as they were loyal to him?”

The hellions have dragged the girl farther up to keep pace with the chariot to make sure that Beliel continues to see what they’re doing to his woman. Beliel thrashes against his chains. He’s so frantic I think he might actually have a shot at breaking free. These are not the screams of an angry man. These are the nightmare screams of someone having his soul torn to pieces right in front of him.

Beliel breaks down and sobs. He sobs for his Daughter of Man. For the girl who even now looks to him to rescue and protect her. Maybe even for their children, who are likely being hunted and killed by someone he thought was his friend. A friend like Raffe.

Raffe continues to talk to his sword. “It’s one thing to be forced to give up on a bearer because you think he may have fallen. It’s another to expose his private moments.” “Look,” I say. “It’s weird enough having a semisentient sword without being in the middle of an argument between you two. Can you please just let it go?”

“What did she show you?” He holds up his hand. “Wait. Don’t tell me. I don’t want to know that you’ve seen me dancing in my underwear to my favorite music.” “Angels wear underwear?” Oh, man, I wish I hadn’t said that. I’m just digging myself in deeper and deeper today. “No.” He shakes his head. “Figure of speech.” “Oh.” I nod, trying to get the image out of my head of Raffe dancing to some rock song, possibly buck naked.

“Stop.” I shake my head. “I get it. You’re right. You have your life. I have mine. I don’t need to be with someone who doesn’t . . .” Want me. Love me. I have enough of those people in my life. I’m a girl whose dad left, leaving us with an out-of-service phone number and no forwarding address, and whose mom . . . “You’re a very special girl, Penryn. An amazing girl. An I-didn’t-even-know-someone-like-you-existed kind of girl. And you deserve someone who treats you like you’re the only important thing in his life because you are. Someone who plows his fields and raises pigs just for you.” “You’re matching me up with a pig farmer?”

“If I were human, I’d plow the nicest farm for you.” He sounds completely sincere. “Better than anyone else’s. It would have golden pineapples, the juiciest grapes, and the most flavorful radishes in the entire world.” I just stare at him, trying to figure out if he’s joking. I think he’s serious. “You haven’t been to a lot of farms, have you, Raffe? Most of us aren’t farmers anymore anyway.” “That wouldn’t diminish my little human commitment to you.” I smile a little. “If I was an angel, I’d tickle your feet with my feathers and sing angelic songs for you every morning.” He scrunches his brow, looking like it pains him to try to envision this.

Sometimes, I wish I could take a vacation from myself.

“Those wings are so flimsy I wouldn’t trust them to carry you. And those overgrown nails—you’d catch an infection if they scratched you. You can ride one when they improve on the design.” He steps forward and, in one smooth motion, lifts me into his firm embrace. “Until then, you’re stuck with me being your air taxi.”

Cute, I think?

“Oh, Raffe versus Godzilla. Now that’s a fight I’d love to take bets on,” says Dum. “Don’t be silly, man. Godzilla’s all pumped up on nuclear waste. How’s a mere mortal supposed to beat that?” “He’s not just a mere mortal,” says Dum. “Look at him. He’s probably got some super-strength badass juice in his pocket right now. One gulp and his muscles would have muscles.” “Yeah, and we wouldn’t need scary little girls if we had a few like him in our army,” says Dee. “What, you think Penryn’s sister can take on Godzilla instead?” asks Dum. Dee thinks about it. “Meh, probably not. Maybe her mom can, though.” Dum’s eyes get wide. “Ooh.”

“He’d sell his firstborn, his parents, his cookie-baking grandmother, his one true love, both his arms, legs, and his right nut for a chance to get the human race back on track.”

“Basically, you’re both crazy heroes.” “And everybody thinks you’re both hot,” says Dee. I scoff. “Now I know you’re full of it.” “You’re seriously going to tell us you haven’t noticed the way guys look at you?” “What guys? What are you talking about?” They exchange glances. “Girl,” says Dee, “even before your latest stunt, you were becoming the most requested fighter of all our events. Butt-kicking girls have always been smokin’ hot, but in the postapocalyptic world we live in, the hottest thing around is a sword-wielding, angel-slaying, foulmouthed—”

Yes, bitch! You are hot

“Dude, we’re the new HBO.”

“It turns out that she’s the only one I can trust to watch my back.” I stand a little taller when he says that.

“Bring them to us. We’ll mark the rest of you. Let it be known that we can be generous to those who serve us.” “Let it be known that they tore apart their last set of servants,”

Angels fly all over the sky and walk over the lawn that used to be a golf course. They begin gathering around the colored banners, looking like distinct teams. Many of the angels are chanting, “Uriel! Uriel! Uriel!” near the red-bannered booths like they’re at a football game.

We get ready to face off, Beliel and I.

Oh shit, this is some good good

“I’m flattered that you need the biggest, meanest warrior on your side to best me, Uri. Let’s see, how big a warrior do I need as a second to beat you and Sacriel? Hmm . . . I’ll take . . . the Daughter of Man. She should even out the odds.”

“Oh, do excuse us for not introducing ourselves,” says the one with the brown-and-yellow wings. He emphasizes his sarcasm by bowing to me. “We are the newly Fallen. The Watchers, to be precise. And probably your executioners. Not that it’ll take more than one of us to do the deed. But you get the point. I’m Howler.”

What the hell is happening? I don't know but I like it

“I’m . . .” I’m hesitant to give them my name. Raffe said names have power. “I’m the angel slayer.” It sounds kind of ridiculous now that I’ve said it. It sounded better in my head, but whatever. For a moment, they all stare at me. Then, as if on cue, they burst out laughing. Howler curls over his left ribs with his hands protectively covering them like they’re broken. “Oh, don’t make me laugh. That hurts.” Cyclone chuckles behind me. He finally lets go of my hair, leaving my scalp tender. “Holy Mother of God, I didn’t realize I could laugh anymore.” “Yeah, it’s been a long, long time,” says Little B. “The angel slayer, huh?” asks Howler. “Well, that was great,” says Beliel, who apparently is Big B. “Can we eat her now?”

I shut my eyes and try not to squeal. “Get the maggots off me!” Raffe brushes them off, but it feels like they’re still crawling on my skin. “So you do scream like a little girl,”

“You don’t know anything.” “Hard to argue with that, Commander,” says Howler with a laugh in his voice.

The banter is too much. I'm cackling

“You’re smarter than you look,” I say to Raffe. “But not as smart as he thinks,” says Howler. “I can see discipline has broken down during your vacation,” says Raffe. “Yeah, it’s all that lounging on the beach with nothing to do but drink and watch

women.” At the word women, the Watchers become awkward and self-conscious. “I have to ask,” says Thermo. “I know the others are wondering this too. Is she your Daughter of Man?” He nods toward me. I glance at Raffe. Am I? Raffe thinks about that for a second before answering. “She is a Daughter of Man. And she is traveling with me. But she’s not my Daughter of Man.” What kind of answer is that? “Oh. So she’s available?” asks Howler. Raffe gives him an icy look. “We’re all single now, you know,” says Hawk. “They can’t punish us twice for the same crime,” says Cyclone. “And now that we know you’re out of the race, Commander, that makes me the next best-looking in line,” says Howler. “Enough.” Raffe doesn’t look amused. “You’re not her type.” The Watchers smile knowingly. “How do you know?” I ask. Raffe turns to me. “Because angels aren’t your type. You hate them, remember?” “But these guys aren’t angels anymore.”

Raffe arches his brow at me. “You should be with a nice human boy. One who takes your orders and puts up with your demands. Someone who dedicates his life to keeping you safe and well fed. Someone who can make you happy. Someone you can be proud of.” He waves his hand at the Watchers. “There’s nobody like that in this lot.” I glare at him. “I’ll be sure to pass him by you first before I”—settle for—“choose him.” “You do that. I’ll let him know what’s expected of him.” “Assuming he survives your interrogation,” says Howler. “Big assumption,” says Cyclone. “I’d like to be ther...

The rubbing is causing a warm, tingly sensation, as if all my blood is rushing to the parts of my body that are pressed against him. My head begins to feel light. My breathing comes faster. His breath speeds up to match mine, or maybe it’s the other way around. Before I know it, he’s nuzzling his head against my cheek. A low moan escapes his lips. I shift without thinking, tightening my legs around his hips, pressing myself against

him. He strokes the curve of my back, pressing me even closer to his warmth. I marvel at the sensation as he subtly shifts his body against mine. He lowers his head while we’re flying and touches his lips to mine. His kiss is hot and wet as it intensifies. My head seems to be rumbling. Then I realize it’s the sky. It’s thunder. Suddenly, warm raindrops fall on us, spraying us until we’re completely wet. Raffe ignores it and continues to kiss me. We hold each other, pressing tighter and harder together. We fly in each other’s arms in the rain over a smoldering hell.

Allright, okay

The one in the center nods at us. My eyes open wide. It worked. One by one, the Watchers nod in my direction with respect in their eyes.

“What?” Dee glares at Sanjay through his rearview mirror. “It’s not just an RV. It’s a custom-made, bulletproof, luxury recreational vehicle. And that doesn’t even describe it all.”

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.”

these weeks. Ready? Go!” The twins let out a holler through their microphones that releases all kinds of stored up energy ranging from excitement to anger, aggression to joy. At first, only one or two echo the twins’ yells. Then more people join in. Then more. Until the whole crowd is screaming and yelling at the top of its lungs. This may be the first time anyone has spoken loudly since the Great Attack. A wave of both fear and cheer are released into the crowd. Some begin crying. Some begin laughing.

We’re nowhere near as good as the angels I heard singing at the aerie. There are enough of us singing off-key that we could never be considered good, much less perfect like the angels. But all of us singing together—the cults with their greasy amnesty marks, the rival gangs on the suspension cables, the angry freedom fighters, the parents with their kids on their shoulders—that’s a feeling I’ll never forget for as long as I live. However long that will be.

The angels slam their hands against their ears. With their eyes and ears assaulted, they’re staggering in the air, neither attacking nor flying away. The angels’ exceptional night vision and sharp hearing is working to our advantage. Their superior abilities are their weaknesses now. They can’t turn it off. The intense lights must be killing their eyes. And that noise—hell, it almost makes my ears bleed with the sharp blast. It helps to have Silicon Valley geniuses in your crew.

I catch sight of them on the side of the bridge, each with an arm raised, holding up their forefingers and pinkies in a devil sign, head-banging to the beat. They’re mouthing the words to the garbled voice screaming over the intense electric guitar and drums blasting out of the speakers. They might look pretty badass if it weren’t for their hobo clown outfits. It’s the loudest party the Bay Area has ever heard.

I cut and slice the angels closest to us while other people attack single angels in groups large enough to overwhelm them. Raffe’s Watchers fought while we were helpless. Now we fight while they’re debilitated. We’re working together as a team, Raffe’s group and my people. We bridge their weaknesses and they bridge ours. We’re a weird, ragged, mismatched group compared with the perfectly formed, powerful, beautiful angels, but we’re still beating them back. Adrenaline is pumping through my blood, and I feel like I can fight ten of Uriel’s angels. Screaming my head off in a war cry, I run for the next squinting angel who is shielding his eyes.

When this is all over, I never want another exciting moment in my life ever again.

A woman slaps him, screaming about her children. Then another comes and kicks him. “That’s for my Nancy.” She kicks Uriel harder. “That’s for little Joe.” Another person jumps in and begins wailing on him as a fourth runs up and begins plucking his feathers. After that, Uriel disappears under a mob of angry humans. Feathers fly. Blood spurts. Knives slash up and down in the spotlights as arms pump, covered in blood.

They lift their axes and slice through Raffe’s wing joints. They lift their axes and slice through Raffe’s wing joints. They lift their axes and slice through Raffe’s wing joints. They . . . . . . his wings . . . I don’t know if Raffe yells out in his pain, because all I hear is my own scream. Raffe falls. Two of his Watchers swoop down and catch him before he can crash onto the bridge. Raffe’s snowy wings land with a thud on the concrete. A second after that, his sword clatters onto the ground, cracking the concrete with its weight.

Power is best held

by the ones who don’t want it.” “Why don’t you want it?” “I have better things to do.” “Like what?” He opens one eye and looks at me. “Like convince a stubborn girl to admit she’s madly in love with me.”

I blink a few times, wondering if that’s how I’m supposed to bat my eyelashes. “What are you doing?” “What?” Ugh. I suck at this. “Are you batting your lashes at me?” “What, me? No, of course not. What . . . spell it.” He squints his eyes suspiciously at me. “This is awkward.” “Yes, it is.” “You’re not going to make this easy on me, are you?” “You’d lose all respect for me if I did.” “I’d make an exception for you.” “Quit stalling. What are you trying to say?” “I’m trying to say that I . . . that I . . .” “Yes?” He sighs. “You’re very difficult, you know that?” “You’re trying to say that you’re what?” “OkayIwaswrong. Now let’s move on. Where do you think would be the best place for the angels to stay until they leave?”

Cackling, I say

Angels are perfect. Even with transplanted wings, we’ll never again be perfect. You accept me just the way I am, regardless of whether or not I even have wings. Even when I had my demon wings, you’ve never looked at me with pity. You’ve never wavered in your loyalty. That’s who you are—my brave, loyal, lovable Daughter of Man.”

“They’ve chosen to stay with me. They never had the prejudices against Daughters of Men anyway, which was their problem to begin with. I’m afraid your people might have their hands full with them.” “But only because the women will prefer us over their own men,” says Howler. “Is that right? You’re so sure we’ll all want an ex-angel over regular ol’ men?” Howler shrugs. “We may not be as perfect as we used to be,” says Raffe, “but it’s all relative.” I try to give him a dirty look, but I can’t help but laugh. “Yes, I’m laughing at you.”

As I leave a flyer under a windshield wiper, I catch sight of Raffe gliding with Beliel’s old demon wings above me. He refused to take part in such “human work” as leaving flyers on cars and doors but keeps an eye on us anyway.

Well, I'm glad that Raffe still has any wings at all.