he snatches Jake from the air. I catch just a glimpse of his white eyes before they disappear into a mass of Fallen warriors.
I don’t think I’ll ever stop screaming.
42
Brielle
There’s a new nightmare now. I’m looking through my mom’s eyes. I know they’re her eyes because I’m sick and dying, but Virtue is there. He’s holding me tight, his wings singing, his chest warm. My eyes are closed, but I think we’re flying. I feel the wind on my face, pressing against us. I wonder where we’re going, but I haven’t the energy to ask.
And then Virtue sets us down, and I open my eyes. The building around us crumbles, flames licking the walls, charring them, turning them black. The smoke makes me gag, my legs weak from the disease ravaging it. But at my feet is a woman, dead already. Her nurse’s scrubs are stained with smoke, her left side burnt.
Mom groans at the sight. She knows her. I know her.
“One more thing,” Virtue says. “One more thing before you go.”
And then I hear a voice crying, panicked. It screams and screams.
“Mother! Mama! Where are you? Please, Mom, please!”
I recognize the voice. More than that, my mom recognizes it. With energy she doesn’t possess, she runs out the open door and into the hall. It’s full of smoke, classrooms on either side. Ten-year-old Olivia runs down the hall, limping, injured. She opens one door after another, screaming for her mom.
My heart breaks at her agony, but she shouldn’t see this. She needn’t see her mother burnt and dead. Seeing won’t change a thing. So I run—Mom runs—down the hall. She grabs Olivia by the hand, spinning her toward the exit.
“Hannah?” Olivia asks, tears streaking the smoke on her face. “What are you doing here? Where’s my mom?”
Mom doesn’t answer. There’s not enough energy for that, just enough to pull the screaming, flailing girl through a corner classroom and shove her out an emergency exit door.
The door swings shut, closing Olivia out. Hannah slams her fist against the knob, locking it, keeping the girl from the flames that killed her mother. And then she stumbles to the center of the room, sucking raspy breaths of smoke-saturated air.
Virtue steps through the flames and takes her hand. He rubs his wings together, releasing wave after wave of worship.
“You could have done that,” Mom says, swaying on dying legs. “You could have saved her. Why bring me here?”
“Because you asked. You wanted to be useful to the Father, Hannah, and you have been. Your saving her now will pave the way for your daughter to save her later. And one day Olivia will need saving.”
The idea is confusing, but there’s peace in it for Mom. Peace that her last minutes have made a difference. They’re the last words she hears—the last words I hear before Mom takes one last breath. Before Virtue wraps her in his arms and spreads his wings wide, shattering the classroom windows and lifting her into the heavens.
43
Brielle
Miss Macy arrived a half hour ago. She spent two minutes talking to Dad and twenty minutes cleaning the kitchen. When I couldn’t watch her scrub another dish, I left her there and retreated to the orchard.
To the red orchard.
The battle continues to rage overhead, but the Sabres have kept Maka and the Palatine from taking Stratus. Their song has all but torn the veil, and the orchard is brighter than ever. Helene is never far, tells me the Army of Light has arrived. She says they’ll surround the Palatine, engage them on multiple fronts.
The Fallen will take me if they can—I know that—but I’m as safe in the orchard as I am inside.
I sink to the ground amidst the rotting fruit and weeds. The Sabres’ song surrounds me. It’s as loud as ever, but not everyone can hear it, it seems. Miss Macy can’t, but Dad and I can. I think it’s the only reason I was able to find sleep last night. As it turns out, my cell was under the couch. I press and hold the number five, my hand trembling to keep the phone in place.
But it doesn’t matter. Jake’s phone goes straight to voice mail.
I leave a message telling him to call me. I try not to cry while I’m talking, but there’s no stopping the tears once they start. And they haven’t really stopped since yesterday. I tell Jake I’m not mad. That I don’t care about the ring. That it’s not important. A life together