Angel Fire by L. A. Weatherly Page B

wasn’t that he didn’t want to fight the angels – god, apart from being with Willow, it was the only thing he did want. He’d willingly give his life; he’d do it a dozen times over, if it meant defeating the angels in this world. He just didn’t want to be responsible for the lives of a whole team too. His brother’s death shuddered through his mind. Yeah, he’d already shown how great he was at covering someone’s back, hadn’t he? And if one of his decisions killed someone—
    Alex pushed the thought away, hoping that Willow wasn’t picking up on any of this crap. There wasn’t anyone else who could be in charge, so he’d deal with it. End of story.
    The sun beat down on them as it rose higher, chasing the clouds away until the sky was an almost painful blue. He drove until about ten o’clock that morning, wanting to get a few hours between them and the border before stopping. Finally, near the outskirts of Chihuahua, he saw a roadside taco stand and pulled over. He killed the engine and did a quick scan. Good – no angels nearby, at least.
    “What do you think, is it all right to stop here?” he said to Willow as they got off the bike.
    Her short hair was ruffled as she took off her helmet; she smoothed it absently, gazing around her. “I think so,” she said. “There’s something here, but...” She trailed off with a frown.
    Alex kept quiet, letting her concentrate. While she did, he leaned against the bike, smiling slightly as he took in her slim figure, her face with its delicately pointed chin and wide eyes. God, she was so beautiful. He still wasn’t sure how he’d managed to get lucky enough to have Willow, but was thankful for it every day of his life. The two years he’d spent alone before he met her seemed like a black-and-white film to him now, a time devoid of colour.
    “I think we’re okay,” said Willow finally, sounding more certain. The day had grown warmer, and she pulled off her blue long-sleeved shirt; under it she wore a green camisole top. She put the shirt away in the Shadow’s storage compartment. “Anyway, Señor , we’re supposed to be saving money on food, remember? What are we doing at a taco stand?”
    “It’s okay; these places are really cheap,” he said as they started towards the stand. Back when he’d had even less money than he did now – it had never occurred to Alex’s father that perhaps his sons should receive a salary like the other AKs – he and Jake had used to live off these roadside stands every time they came here.
    Tacos, quesadillas, mulitas, tortas , said the weathered sign. Willow gave it a quizzical glance. “Hmm, Toto, I don’t think we’re in Kansas any more. You choose for me, okay?”
    Alex got them each a Coke and a few tacos with carnitas : chopped roast pork. “And don’t worry, I told her you want extra chillies on yours,” he said to Willow, keeping a straight face. They were actually for him – he loved spicy food.
    She gave him a look. “Dude, if there are any chillies on mine, you’re going to be wearing them.”
    Alex paid with dollars – most places down here accepted US bills, though he knew he’d need to change their dwindling funds into pesos at some point. A worn picnic table stood to one side; they carried their food over. For a few minutes they ate the Mexican tacos with their soft cornmeal wraps, in companionable silence, a light breeze stirring the dusty ground.
    Finally Willow sighed and put her last taco down. “So I guess we need to talk.”
    The remains of their food went uneaten as she related her dream. Alex listened intently, his skin prickling as she described the twelve bright angels, and the sound that was like a million of the creatures screaming.
    “It was all so vivid – and there was such an incredible sense of urgency,” Willow finished. Her face was tight with worry. “Only I don’t even know where this place is, for sure.”
    “Mexico City,” he said absently, still thinking of