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CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
This time when Maddy opened her eyes, there was no reprieve from the darkness. She felt woozy, but with some effort, she recalled that she had escaped to the service room off the street she’d run down. Then, in another instant, she recalled the fatal, terrible fact that pounded in her brain with every beat of her heart: Tom had died saving her. Misery welled within her, but she tried to quell it as much as she could. Though she would never get the chance to sacrifice herself to save Tom, which she would have done in a heartbeat, there still was someone she could help. It might not be too late. Maddy could still hear the muffled sound of explosions outside, confirming that the battle for Angel City had continued to rage for however long she’d been passed out.
Moving blindly still, Maddy pulled herself to the wall and sat up straight, banging her burned arm into a mop and bucket that went clattering across the smooth concrete floor. The pain in her right wing was excruciating, unreal, and Maddy nearly swooned under the pressure. Taking sharp breaths between her teeth, she forced herself to focus on staying conscious.
Before she went outside, she knew she needed to retract the injured wing, which hung limp and useless, flopping around and causing agony with every move. Maddy sat down and braced herself by leaning forward.
She focused as hard as she could, pushing through the unbelievable pain to try to get her wings to retract. But only the left one did, while the right wing just hung there lamely, emanating none of the luminescence it once had. Maddy cried in pain. “Come on, come on . . . ,” she whispered through gritted teeth and tears.
She gave it one more shot. . . .
“Gaaaaaaaaaaaaaah!” she screamed, surely loud enough for any human, Angel, or demon outside to hear. But perhaps it helped, because the wing, making a strange, belabored sound, was finally able to retract. Maddy crumpled to the ground and lay there until her breathing calmed down. Then she sat up once again, this time resolute and feeling renewed.
After waiting what seemed like an eternity for the slightest sound or evidence of danger, Maddy slowly pulled the creaky door open. She saw no one. A thick smoke had settled across the city, filling the street, giving it an ominous air. She looked back and forth past the other buildings, but there was no sign of any Dark Angels. Or anyone else, for that matter.
The sky was still dark, but that didn’t tell her anything: whenever the demons attacked, the sun disappeared beneath a shroud of black clouds laced with vermillion highlights. Day and night passed identically underneath this darkness.
She could hear the roar of jet sorties flying above and explosions not too far off. The sounds of the military gave her fresh agony, as the thought of Tom’s death entered her mind.
Looking down, Maddy assessed the damage to her arm from the demon’s white-hot touch. And it was bad. Her jacket had caught fire during the struggle and the lining had been burned through underneath, exposing a layer of red, blistered skin. Maddy had to look away from the grotesque sight of her own injury. She wasn’t sure what degree burn it was, but she knew it wasn’t good.
Maddy started down the street as well as she could in her state. She passed the place where Tom had given his life, happy to move away from where the demons had been. But then something—some unavoidable, potentially suicidal impulse—told her to go back. Back to where it had happened. She needed her sword. But . . . why? Why was her body telling her this? It’s not as if she was in any condition to fight a demon. If she had to face another Dark Angel, she would surely be killed, sword or not. Nevertheless, deep inside, she felt she needed it still.
With incredible caution, she entered a neighboring building that had been abandoned and crept quietly to the third floor to look out one of the broken windows at the scene below.
Everything seemed quiet. A few tendrils of smoke from flaming wreckage drifted diagonally as the wind puffed. The demons had left, apparently. Down on the street, she saw her Divine Sword, its hilt almost seeming to grow in luster as she looked at it. Suddenly her face was slightly lit by a dim glow from her Divine Ring. Maddy scanned the scene until she was sure she would be safe.
And then, down the street, she spotted it: a dark shape sprawled on the ground near the intersection.
Tom’s body.
Maddy’s blood went cold as she looked at the unmoving figure stretched out on the lonely asphalt. She girded her spirit and forced herself to go on.
She made her way down the stairs to the abandoned street filled with detritus from the battle. She approached her sword, then kept on walking. She’d get it after.
Maddy approached Tom slowly. Behind his body, in the middle of the intersection, the stoplight still dangled there, one side of the cable snapped off from the pole across the street. Its bottom-right corner scraped back and forth on the asphalt as the wind blew it to and fro.
A putrid, sulfurous smell inundated the area, reeking of demons, but at least the heat and humidity of their dark presence had dissipated. A jolt of pain flashed through Maddy’s burned arm.
Maddy studied Tom before approaching. He looked peaceful. Above the shoulders he looked more or less like himself, save for the stream of blood that had run down the side of his mouth. But starting from his chest down to his belly button, it was all gore. Maddy thought she could feel her heart literally breaking as she looked down at the pilot who had saved her life. Stepping forward, she took off the remnants of her navy jacket and covered the fatal wound.
“Tom, I’m so sorry. So, so sorry,” she whispered, wiping her tears with her good arm. Putting her hand underneath Tom’s still-bandaged head and her fingers in his hair, she leaned down. She pressed her weeping face to the small indentation in between his Adam’s apple and his clavicle, just above where the demon had done his damage. But Tom did not respond, of course. She could feel that his skin had already started going cold to the touch.
Maddy tried to pull herself together. What could she do to make this even a little bit right? She could at least give his body shelter. She lifted her head and wiped the blurring tears away. Then, as gently as she could, she wedged herself under Tom’s right armpit and began pulling him out of the street, inch by inch, the heels of his boots dragging and scuffing the pavement along the way. It took everything she had just to move him a few inches at a time. But soon, panting, she had him near the half-shattered remains of a door to a house that was still standing on the corner.
With great effort she pulled him over the threshold and into what looked like some kind of office foyer. She laid him straight out on his back and placed his arms flat against his sides so he looked comfortable. Maddy then shifted her jacket up so the garment covered not only his wound, but his face, as well. She whispered a small prayer. Taking a few steps back she looked at his body, which finally looked serene.
“I’m sorry, Tom,” Maddy said over the body. “This is the best I could do. I would stay here longer, all day and all night if I could. But there’s something I have to do still.”
With a solemn and heavy heart, Maddy gave Tom one last, final look, and turned to walk back to the fated spot.
Her sword was still waiting for her on the deserted street. Reaching down for the weapon, Maddy found the hair on the back of her neck turned stiff as steel wires.
Something was behind her. She froze. She took one breath, then another.
In a smooth motion, Maddy attempted to reach down, unhook the leather latch, pull the sword out of the sheath, and spin around on whatever demon was approaching. A shout escaped her lips. The sword flailed as she spun, grunting, as she lost her strength to bring the weapon around effectively.
She braced herself to face her fate, but instead of a Dark Angel, she saw the dog that had been there barking at the demon earlier. It cowered as it saw Maddy raising the sword, and Maddy was filled with guilt for scaring the poor, terrorized animal. She lowered the sword and put her hand out.
