Angelfall (Penryn & the End of Days #1)

Angelfall (Penryn & the End of Days #1) Page 33

My insides flutter with unease at the thought of him lying helpless on a table surrounded by hostile angels. Not to mention the possibility of a resistance attack during the surgery.

Should I warn him?

And run the risk that he’ll tell his people? His old friends and loyal soldiers?

What would he do if he knew anyway? Cancel the operation and give up his only hope for getting his wings back? Not a chance.

Raffe steps out the door without a word of warning from me.

CHAPTER 34

I’m not sure what to do except pace.

I’m too worked up to think straight. My mind tumbles with what might be happening with Paige, my mother, Raffe and the freedom fighters.

How long can I eat and sleep and lounge around in luxury while Paige is somewhere nearby? At this rate, it could be weeks before we get a lead on her. I just wish there was something I could do instead of waiting here helpless until Raffe gets out of surgery.

From what I’ve seen, humans aren’t allowed anywhere in the aerie without an angel escort. Unless they’re servants….

I discard half a dozen crazy ideas that involve things like jumping a servant my size and stealing her clothes. That may work in the movies, but I would probably be condemning someone to starvation if she gets kicked out of the aerie. I may not approve of humans working for angels, but who am I to judge anyone’s way of surviving this crisis and feeding their family?

I pick up the phone and order a bottle of champagne off their room service menu. I consider asking for Dee-Dum but decide to leave it to chance for now.

In the World Before, I wouldn’t even legally be able to drink, much less order a bottle of champagne to be delivered to a thousand-dollar-a-night suite. I pace, thinking through all the possible scenarios. Just when I’m convinced I’m going to wear a circular track in the plush carpet, someone knocks on the door.

Please, please let it be Dee-Dum.

I open the door to a mousy looking woman. Her dark eyes gaze out from beneath a mop of frizzy brown hair. I’m so disappointed I can taste the metallic tang of it in my mouth. I’m so frustrated it’s not Dee-Dum that I seriously consider jumping her for her black and white uniform. She wears a long black skirt with a crisp white blouse under a black waist jacket that resembles a female version of a tuxedo. She’s a little bigger than me but not by much.

I open the door and indicate that she should come in. She walks to the coffee table to put down her tray.

“Do you have family?” I ask.

She turns and looks at me like a startled rabbit. She nods, causing her frizzy hair to flop over her eyes.

“Does this job keep them fed?”

She nods again, her eyes turning wary. She may have been an innocent a couple of months before, but that might as well have been a lifetime ago. The innocence in her eyes flees much too fast. This girl had to fight to get her job, and by the look of her grim expression, she’s had to fight to keep it, too.

“How many of you make deliveries for room service?”

“Why?”

“Just curious.” I consider telling her that I’m looking for Dee-Dum, but I don’t want to jeopardize him. There’s too much I don’t understand about angel society and servant politics for me to start throwing around names.

“There are about half a dozen of us.” She shrugs with one shoulder, keeping her wary eyes on me as she heads back for the door.

“Do you take turns delivering things?”

She nods. Her eyes dart to the bedroom door, probably wondering where my angel is.

“Am I creeping you out?” I say it with a deliberately creepy tone. Her eyes dart back to me. I saunter toward her like a vampire with a hungry expression on my face. I’m making things up as I go, but I can tell that I’m freaking her out. I guess that’s better than being laughed at for acting strange.

Her eyes widen as I approach her. She claws at the doorknob and practically runs out.

Hopefully, that takes her out of the running for making deliveries to this room. At most, I just need to order five more things.

It turns out I only have to order two more things before Dee-Dum comes to my door with a large slice of cheesecake. I close the door quickly behind him and lean against it as though this will force him to help me.

The first thing I want to ask is when the attack will happen. But he has seen me in the company of angels, and I’m afraid he’ll think of me as a threat if I start asking questions about their attack plans. So I stick to the basics.

“Do you know where they’re keeping the children?” I don’t think my voice is very loud, but he whips his hand down in a shushing motion anyway. His eyes dart to the bedroom.

“They’re gone,” I whisper. “Please help me. I need to find my little sister.”

He stares at me for a long moment. He pulls out a pen and a pad of paper, the kind a waiter might use to take your order. He scribbles something on it and hands it to me. The note reads, “Leave now while you can.”

I put my hand out for his pen and write on the same piece of paper. A few months ago, it would have been natural to use a new piece of paper for a new note, but now, the paper we have may be the last we ever have. “Can’t. Must rescue sister.”

He writes, “Then you’ll die.”

“I can tell you stuff about them you probably don’t know.”

He raises his eyebrow in question.

What can I say that he would be interested in? “They’re in political turmoil. They don’t know why they’re here.”

He writes, “How many?”

“Don’t know.”

“Weapons?”

“Don’t know.”

“Plan of attack?”

I bite my lip. I don’t know anything that’s immediately relevant to military strategy, which is obviously what he’s looking for.

“Please help me,” I whisper.

He gives me a long look. His eyes are calculating, devoid of emotion, which is an odd combination with his pink, freckled face. I don’t need this cold-hearted spymaster. What I need is the boy-next-door Dee-Dum who jokes and entertains.

I write, “You owe me, remember?” I give him a half-smile, trying to nudge him back to the playful twin I met at the camp. It works, sort of. His face warms up a bit, probably remembering the girl fight. I wonder how bad the damage was after. Did the demons leave them alone after we left?

He writes, “I’ll take you to where there might be kids. But then you’re on your own.”

I’m so excited I hug him.

“Is there anything else I can get for you, Miss?” He nods vigorously at me, telling me to order something new.

“Uh, yeah. How about…a chocolate bar?” Paige’s bite-sized chocolates are still at the bottom of my pack in the car. I would give a lot to be able to give her chocolate as soon as I see her.

“Of course,” he says as he pulls out a lighter and ignites the paper we’d been writing on. “I can get that for you right away, Miss.” The flames quickly consume the little note, leaving behind only curling remnants and the lingering scent of burnt paper.

He runs the water in the sink at the bar, where he drops the burning note until all traces of the ashes are gone. Then he picks up the fork from the tray and scoops an enormous portion of the cheesecake into his mouth. With a wink, he leaves, showing me his open palm in a signal to stay.

I wear down the carpet some more, pacing in circles until he returns. I think about his refusal to say anything out loud and what he might be doing here.

It seems like the note-writing thing is overly cautious considering the thickness of the walls and the racket in the aerie. I think Raffe would have warned me if the conversations in the rooms could be heard. But I suppose Obi’s people don’t have the benefit of an angel telling them they’re talking too loud. Despite all of Obi’s spies and contacts, it’s possible that I know more about angels than any of them.

When Dee-Dum returns, he brings a servant’s uniform and a large bar of milk chocolate with hazelnuts. I change into the black and white outfit as fast as I can. I’m grateful to see that the shoes are practical, soft-soled flats made for waitresses who are on their feet all day. Shoes I can run in. Things are looking up.

When Dee-Dum takes out his pad of paper, I tell him the angels can’t hear us. He gives me a skeptical look even after I reassure him. He’s finally startled into speaking when I pick up Raffe’s sword.

“What the hell is that?” His voice is low but at least he’s talking. Dee-Dum stares at the sword as I strap the scabbard onto my back.

“Dangerous times, Dee-Dum. Every girl should have a blade on her.” I have to strap it upside-down and at an angle so that it fits my back without the hilt sticking out through my hair.

“That looks like an angel’s sword.”

“Obviously not, otherwise, I wouldn’t be able to lift it, right?”

He nods. “True.”

There’s too much conviction in his voice for a man who’s never tried lifting one for himself. My guess is that he’s tried it several times.

I test the leather thumb strap around the guard to make sure I can unlatch it easily to draw the sword one-handed.

He’s still looking at me a little suspiciously, like he knows I’m lying about something but can’t put his finger on what. “Well, I guess it’s quieter than a gun. But where’d you find a thing like that?”

“In a house. The owner was probably a collector.”

I throw on the short jacket that goes with the uniform. It’s a little big for me so it hangs over the upside-down sword nicely. It doesn’t quite cover the sword’s pommel, but it’ll pass a casual inspection. My back doesn’t entirely look natural but close enough. My long hair hides some of the unnatural line.

Dee-Dum clearly wants to interrogate me about the sword, but can’t seem to think of the right questions. I gesture for him to lead the way.

The hardest thing to remember as I walk through the party crowd in the lobby is to behave normally. I’m hyper-conscious of the sword pommel gently bouncing off my hip as I walk. I keep wanting to slink into the shadows and disappear. But in the servants’ uniforms, we are invisible so long as we behave as expected.

The only ones who seem to remotely notice us are other servants. Fortunately, they have no time or energy to really take note of us. The party is really in full swing now, and the servants are practically running to keep up with their work.

The only person who looks closely at me is the night clerk who checked us in. I have a bad moment when his eyes lock onto mine and I see the light of recognition. He glances at Dee-Dum. They exchange a look. Then the clerk goes back to his paperwork as if he saw nothing unusual.