Page 104
And so they’d left without incident, though Willow’s necklace on the kitchen table had provided an extra knife in the guts when Alex had found it later. Kara had been in the kitchen too; her eyes had flown to his. “Alex. . . ” she’d started.
“Forget it. ” He picked up the necklace with its shining pendant – the pendant that had reminded him so much of Willow’s angel self, with her wings glinting in the sun – and shoved it roughly into his pocket, wondering why, exactly, he wasn’t just pitching it into the trash.
“Okay,” he said. “Let’s go over the plans. ”
And for a few hours he’d almost been able to lose himself in them, even though some little voice inside of him was still dazed, bleating over and over, I don’t believe it; Willow wouldn’t do this. She just wouldn’t. Whenever he thought it, he mentally kicked the voice to death until it shut up. Because all he could see was Willow in her short black skirt, reaching up to hold Seb’s hand; hear the calmness in her tone as she told him that, by the way, she’d forgotten to mention it until now, but all along her dream had included Seb, and he himself had apparently just been the chauffeur to get her to Mexico City. God, no wonder she’d looked so thrilled when she first met Seb, her green eyes shining with wonder – probably the only thing that had been on her mind from that point on had been how quickly she could dump Alex, now that she’d found another half-angel.
This thought came to him later that night in his bedroom; he only barely managed not to punch the wall. He couldn’t just sit in here; he’d go insane – he pulled on a pair of sweatpants, yanked on a T-shirt, and headed out. Sam, Wesley and Brendan were in the dorm playing cards. They looked up as he passed through. Wesley’s arm was in a home-made sling; it hadn’t improved much since the day before.
“Hey bud, you okay?” said Sam, his voice casual.
“Great,” said Alex shortly. He opened the cabinet where the towels were kept and grabbed one.
“You working out? Want me to join you?”
“No, thanks. ”
Down in the exercise room, he did fierce, pumping reps on the machines for almost an hour, then ran for miles on the treadmill, until the sweat was streaming and his muscles felt limp. Finally he stopped, panting. He’d pulled off his T-shirt as he ran, and now he used it to mop his face and chest. The house was quiet around him; he knew it must be after midnight.
His frenzied workout hadn’t helped much. It hadn’t even obliterated the fact that this was the night he’d been going to take Willow to the hotel, so that they could finally have the privacy they’d both been craving. He’d actually bought flowers to put in the room; chocolates, which now the maid or someone would eat. He’d wanted it to be so incredibly special for them both, but especially for Willow.
And instead, she had been with Seb.
Oh god, do not think about this. He wadded up his shirt and threw it across the room. Restlessly, he went upstairs to the TV room, where he sat on the sofa and opened up Brendan’s laptop, studying the plans once more.
When he’d first looked at them, the relief had been almost indescribable. This was exactly what they’d needed: someone on the inside, getting them in as guests. The attack might actually succeed now – Charmeine the rogue angel had thought of every conceivable detail. Any doubts he might have had about the information’s authenticity had vanished as he read through the notes; Charmeine clearly wanted the Council dead as much as they did. The VIP passes meant they could just walk right in through the main entryway without being stopped. There were also floor plans of the VIP area; a schedule for the afternoon’s events; notes pointing out where the private audiences would take place and at what times. Best of all, the team now had a private audience with the Council themselves.
The first private audience will be for “Mexico City University”. This is you, said a note. Keep your minds as blank as possible and wait until they’re talking to open fire, to catch them off-guard. Don’t hesitate. The Twelve have extremely strong psychic abilities, though we don’t know whether these extend to humans. It’s essential that they’re dispatched without ever letting them get the upper hand – or else your team will be summarily executed and humanity will not stand a chance.
Alex tapped his thumb against his mouth as he read, frowning slightly as he pictured the scene. If Wesley’s arm wasn’t healed by then, there would be six of them against the Twelve. The target practice they’d done earlier had focused on that – all of them standing in a line, each going for their own particular two targets. The team was proficient enough by now that this slight variation on their skills hadn’t fazed them; they’d all been performing at well over ninety per cent by the time he’d finally called a halt. Hopefully Wesley would be okay, though – they could really use a clean-up man standing over to the side, to shoot any angel that the others might have missed. If Wesley was still injured, then Alex would have to fill that role himself, nailing his two angels quickly and then going after any others.
Earlier, he’d brought the paper file that Willow had given him in here too, and now he leaned forward to the coffee table and flipped it open again. Neither he nor Kara could read Spanish nearly as well as they spoke it, but he could make out enough to see that most of the details were the same as on the memory stick. The only discrepancy was to do with one of the hallways. The computer file said they should exit by that route to reach the elevators quickly – the paper file said there were renovations going on and the doorway at that end was blocked. But the computer file was clearly more up-to-date; the work must have been completed by now.
As he glanced at the laptop again, Alex suddenly remembered what Sophie had said about some kind of proposal for him. On the main menu screen, he found a file he hadn’t noticed before: Nevada.
He clicked it open, and discovered plans showing an underground camp in the desert – a huge, sprawling bunker of a place, sleek and modern. As he read, he learned that it had been used for some kind of military training and was now in the hands of the CIA, who apparently had been considering moving his dad’s camp up there.
It’s fully stocked with survival gear and weaponry – with the addition of holographs for training, it would be a perfect base for the AKs, read a note from Sophie. There was limited knowledge of the facility even when Project Angel was running; I am reasonably certain that this information, along with the access codes contained here, are now known only by myself.
Reasonably certain – great. I’ve already got a base, thought Alex as he moved the laptop to one side. Besides, they’d only need a place to operate from if they failed to kill the Council – and if that was the case, the odds of the AKs even being around afterwards seemed pretty slim.
In just a few days, he could die.
Alex sank back against the sofa, staring at the ceiling. Being raised as an Angel Killer meant that, deep down, he’d always expected to die young – and he wouldn’t mind, not if it rid the world of the angels. The only time he’d ever wanted more had been these last few months with Willow, when the desire to actually be around long enough to have a life with her – seeing her smile as she woke up beside him every morning; hearing her laugh – had given his fight against the angels more of a purpose than ever before. Even now, he loved her so much that uppermost in his mind was gladness that she wouldn’t be there for the Council attack. That no matter what happened, she’d at least be safe.