World After (Penryn & the End of Days 2)

Burnt lies on the trampled grass, bleeding. His eyes are wide open in shocked disbelief. His body trembles. His breathing is ragged and strained.

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.

Then, another incredible thing happens.

One second, we are surrounded by angels holding their swords. The next second, one of their arms drops and his sword thunks to the grass like a lead weight. The angel stares at his blade uncomprehendingly.

Another sword drops.

Then another.

Then a whole bunch, until all the other unsheathed swords fall, thudding on the grass like subjects bowing down to their queen.

The angels stare at the swords at their feet in utter shock.

Then everyone looks at me. Actually, it’s probably more accurate to say they’re looking at my sword.

“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?

Chpater 74

PAIGE RUNS over to me, still holding the wings. She tentatively buries her face in my ribs again like she used to when she had a nightmare and needed a hug.

I put my arm around her. I swear her shoulders are skinnier than they’ve ever been. But that thought leads me to all the dark places I don’t want to go so I ignore it. Judging by the wall of warriors around us, her hunger won’t be a problem much longer.

I pull her with me as I gingerly step over to Raffe. Everyone is still in shock so no one stops me even though I’m now an angel killer. I stand back-to-back with Raffe, putting Paige and the severed wings between us.

I know Paige is deadly now. But that doesn’t change the fact that she won’t survive this any better than the rest of us. And if there’s one thing I know that a kid her age shouldn’t be doing, it’s having to fight for her life while her big sister is around.

I hope her last few moments are filled with the knowledge that she was surrounded by those who tried to protect her.

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 hair blows all over the place, and I realize that the scorpion buzz has been steadily growing into a roar again. They must have looped and are coming back our way. It feels like a storm is building up as they near.

The warriors get over their shock and begin moving toward us, barehanded. Only now, there are as many coming for me as for Raffe. I guess they’ve got a thing against human girls killing one of their own. Either that or they want to try to claim my sword.

I swipe my blade at an angel coming too close to me. He ducks and tries to grab my hair. I kick him in the stomach.

As far as I can tell, there’s an endless supply of warriors. The outcome is obvious. It won’t be long before we wear out.

We know it. They know it.

But we keep on fighting.

I’m swiping my blade at a buffed-out warrior, trying to catch him in the throat when something knocks him down.

It’s a scorpion.

For a moment, it’s a jumble of wings and a stinger rolling on the trampled grass. The scorpion isn’t really fighting the angel. I think it’s just trying to get up and fly. But the angel isn’t going to let that happen.

Another scorpion crashes into Raffe’s opponent. They roll in the dirt, tumbling in a jumble of limbs and wings. Three more scorpions clumsily crash into angels.

It takes me a moment to figure out what’s really going on.

The swarm above us has flown down, dipping and twisting like a cloud of wasps. As it dips lower, the scorpions at the bottom of the swarm crash into the angels. The collisions knock down the warriors like grass being mowed.

I have no doubt that an angel can take on a scorpion and not break out in a sweat. But there are far more scorpions than angels, and the scorpions behave like mindless beasts crashing into bodies. Even as some of them swerve at the last second to try to avoid fatal collisions, they can’t seem to stop their own group momentum as they slam into the angels.

The sheer force of the bodies repeatedly ramming into the crowd brings them all down flat onto the lawn.