Angelfall

CHAPTER 40

We need to get out before the hotel comes crashing down. But I can’t just let those people get sucked dry by the scorpion-angels. Dragging the ladder to each tank and slowly pulling out each paralyzed person could take hours.

I pull my sword out of the lab angel. I run over to the fetal columns in frustration, holding the sword like a bat.

I swing the blade into one of the scorpion tanks. It’s mostly to let out my frustration and I don’t expect it to do anything other than bounce off.

Before I can even register the impact, the thick tank shatters. Fluid and glass explode onto the concrete floor.

I could get used to this sword.

The scorpion fetus unlatches from its victim. It screeches as it falls. Then it flops and writhes on the glass shards, bleeding all over them. The emaciated woman crumples to the bottom of the broken tank. Her glassy eyes stare into the air.

I have no idea if she’s alive, or if she’ll be in better shape once the venom wears off. This is the best I can do for her. The best I can do for any of them. All I can hope is that somehow, some of them will recover enough to get away from here before things become too explosive, because I can’t drag them up the stairs.

I run over to the other tanks that are holding victims and smash them, one after another. Shards of water and glass spray all over the basement lab. The air fills with the screeching of thrashing scorpion fetuses.

Most of the monsters in the surrounding tanks wake and twitch. A few react violently and slam against their glass prisons. They are the ones that are more fully formed, staring at me through the veined membranes of their eyelids with the understanding that I am preying upon them.

While I’m doing this, a tiny part of me considers running without Paige. She's not really my sister anymore, is she? She's certainly not helpless any longer.

“Ryn-Ryn?” Paige is crying.

She calls to me as if unsure whether I would take care of her. My heart constricts like an iron hand is squeezing it as punishment for thinking of betraying her.

“Yeah, sweetie,” I say in my most reassuring voice. “We have to get out of here. Okay?”

The building shakes again and one of the stitched-up corpses topples. The little boy’s mouth opens when his head hits the floor, revealing metal teeth.

Paige looked that dead before she started moving. Is there any chance this kid could be alive too?

A weird thought pops into my head. Didn’t Raffe say that sometimes, names have power?

Did Paige wakeup because I called her? I scan the bodies leaning against the wall, at their shiny teeth and long nails, their discolored eyes. If they’re alive, would I wake them if I could?

I turn away and smash my blade into another tank. I can’t help but be glad I don’t know the kids’ names.

“Paige?” My mother walks over to us as though in a dream. She crunches over broken glass and weaves to avoid the thrashing monsters as if she sees this kind of thing regularly. Maybe she does. Maybe in her world, this is normal. She sees them and avoids them, but she’s not surprised by them. Her eyes are clear, her expression cautious.

“Baby?” She runs over to Paige and hugs her with no hesitation despite the blood and gore covering her.

My mother cries in big, anguished sobs. For the first time, I realize that she’s been at least as worried and upset over Paige as I have. That it was no accident that she ended up here, the same dangerous place that I trekked to find Paige. That even though her love often manifests itself in ways that a mentally healthy person couldn't understand—might even declare abusive—that doesn't diminish the fact that she does care.

I swallow the tears that threaten to drown me as I watch my mother fuss over Paige.

Mom takes a good look at Paige. The blood. The stitches. The bruises. She doesn't remark on any of them but does make shocked and cooing noises as she strokes Paige's hair and skin.

Then she looks at me. In her eyes is a hard accusation. She blames me for what happened to Paige. I want to tell her I didn't do this to her. How could she think that?

But I don't say anything. I can't. I can only look back at my mother with guilt and remorse. I look at her the way she looked at me when Dad and I found Paige broken and crippled all those years ago. I may not have held the knife to Paige, but this terrible thing happened on my watch.

For the first time, I wonder if my mother really was responsible for Paige’s broken back.

“We have to get out of here,” says Mom with her arm protectively around Paige. Her voice is clear and full of purpose.

I look up at her in surprise. Before I can stop myself, hope blooms inside me. She sounds full of authority and confidence. She sounds like a mother ready and determined to lead her daughters to safety.

She sounds sane.

Then she says, “They’re after us.”

Hope shrivels and dies inside me, leaving a hard lump where my heart should be. I don’t need to ask who “they” are. According to my mother, “they” have been after us for as long as I can remember. Her protective statement is not a step toward taking responsibility for her girls.

I nod, taking the weight of my family responsibilities back on my shoulders.