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I smiled; whenever he called me that, I wanted to melt. He drew me to him, and we snuggled together in the softness of the sleeping bags. We were both fully dressed, apart from having kicked our shoes off – it was way too cold to contemplate taking anything else off.
“Promise me it’s warmer in Mexico,” I said, nestling against him. Slowly, I was starting to feel less like an ice cube – and even better, safe, at least for the moment.
“I promise,” murmured Alex. He was lying on his back with his arms around me; one hand had slipped under my T-shirt and was lazily stroking my spine. I could sense how tired he was, now that we’d finally stopped moving. So was I. It felt like a million years had passed since I’d crouched in the Church of Angels cathedral in Denver, trying to stop the Second Wave from arriving. And it hadn’t even been two days.
“Alex?” I whispered.
“Hmm?”
“What are we going to do when we get to Mexico? Do you have any idea where we’re going?” I knew he’d been to Mexico dozens of times; from the sounds of it, he and the other AKs had crossed the border often.
His hand stopped trailing up and down my spine. For a minute I thought he’d fallen asleep; then his voice spoke in the darkness. “I thought we’d go to the Sierra Madre,” he said. “There should be someplace safe there where we can hole up and start trying to recruit other AKs. ”
As he said the words, I got a flash of his thoughts: a dense, wild mountain range, full of plummeting canyons and almost unpassable roads. You could hide up there for years and never be found. It was the best possible place to do what we needed to do and still keep me safe; he was sure of it. Even so, I caught a sense of cold dread running beneath the images.
“Alex? What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” he said.
I hesitated, wondering whether to push it. “No, there is. I mean, if you don’t want to tell me, it’s all right, but I can feel it. ”
There was a long pause; outside the tent, the wind stirred through the bare bones of the trees. Finally Alex gave a soft laugh. “Okay, I’m still getting used to this psychic girlfriend thing,” he said. “I’m fine, I just. . . ” He sighed. And suddenly I knew, the thought dropping into my head as if it were my own.
“You’re worried about being in charge,” I said in surprise. I rose up, trying to see his face in the darkness. “That’s it, isn’t it?”
The dread flickered again like the tongue of a snake, then faded as if he were making a conscious effort to control it. “It’s nothing,” he said gruffly. “I just saw enough about what it’s like to be a leader when my dad was in charge. I’d rather work on my own, or as part of a team under someone I trust. But, you know. . . ” His chest shifted under me as he shrugged. “That’s not the way it is; we’ve got to train new AKs and I’m the only one who knows how. So I’ll deal with it. ”
It didn’t really feel like he was telling me everything, but I let it go – he obviously didn’t want to talk about it. And even though I was psychic, I’d never thought it was okay to go probing around if someone didn’t want me to. I closed Alex’s thoughts away from mine, so that I wouldn’t pick up anything by mistake. We were so close that this happened more and more now when I wasn’t even thinking about it.
“You’ll be great,” I murmured. I kissed his smooth neck. “And I’ll help all I can. Psychic consultant, remember?”
I could almost hear his smile. “Don’t forget mechanic, too. If the Shadow’s anything like the Mustang. . . ”
The Honda Shadow parked outside our tent was over twenty years old; I knew Alex was suspicious of it. “Hey, you leave the Mustang alone,” I said. “It was a complete classic. And Shadows aren’t bad either, you know – for a cheap bike, they’re pretty classic themselves. ”
“Why did I know you were going to say that?” The sleeping bags gave a soft rustle as he rolled towards me. It felt much warmer in the tent now; almost cosy.
“I don’t know, maybe because. . . ” My voice trailed off. Alex had taken my hand and was kissing my fingers, one by one. His lips seemed electric, zinging at my nerve endings as if I were an exposed wire. I felt myself go weak as he bit gently at my little finger; then his warm mouth slid down to my palm, pressing against it, and I shivered.
“Let’s stop talking for a while, okay?” he whispered.
That night I had a dream.
I was standing at the top of a high tower, gazing out at what had to be the largest city in the world. It was endless, like something from a science-fiction film. Low mountains crouched on the horizon in every direction; the city crept over them and kept right on going, fading into hazy infinity. Somehow I knew this was in Mexico – and that it was where Alex and I were meant to be. My heart tightened with urgency as I stared at the sea of buildings. We had to come here. We had to.
In the middle of the city lay a broad stone space: an immense square, with a cathedral at one end and a long, official-looking building stretching down the side. There was a stage set up near the cathedral, and rock music playing – it thumped through me as thousands danced. Dozens of angels glided over the square, too, like hawks hunting over a field. I took a panicked step backwards. They’d see my aura; they’d know what I was—
The world whirled and shifted; the crowd scene disappeared. Now twelve angels hovered over the city, brighter than any I’d ever seen – like twelve blazing suns that poured light over the concrete buildings below. An ancient, ruthless power connected the twelve; I shuddered as I felt it. The angels started to glow even brighter still, burning my eyes until I had to duck my head away. As I did, they vanished in an explosion that was sensation rather than sound – a shock wave that howled past, knocking me off my feet.
Seamlessly, I was in my angel form, flying from the tower as the screams of a million angels tore through me. But my wings were too heavy. I couldn’t stay aloft; I was falling – I had to hold on tighter, fly harder—
I landed with a bump. Silence, so still and perfect, like cut glass. I was in a park, in my human form again. Soft green grass; palm trees mixed with poplars and cypresses. The twelve angels were gone. . . but I wasn’t alone.
A boy stood watching me. He was a little older than me, about the same height as Alex, with brown hair that fell in loose curls. A glint of stubble; high cheekbones and strong features – a beautiful face that I knew had been through great pain, yet it held such humour and tenderness that it twisted my heart.
We stared at each other. I had no idea who the boy was, but the thought of ever being without him filled me with despair. The unexpected feeling robbed the breath from my throat, so that at first I couldn’t speak.
“Who are you?” I whispered at last.
In answer, the boy stretched out his hand. “Come, querida,” he said softly.
His eyes were urging me to say yes, and part of me wanted to link my fingers through his so badly that it hurt. No, I’m in love with Alex, I thought. And then: But, oh my god, to not be with you – how could I possibly bear it? I woke up with a start. It was still night-time; I was in the tent, safe in the sleeping bag with Alex asleep beside me. What had all that been about? Heart thudding, I pressed against Alex’s bare chest. He shifted in his sleep and pulled me closer; I hugged him hard, feeling almost guilty. Even in a dream, how could I have ever felt that way about someone else?