Angeli Read online

  “I’ll be waiting.” General Vorn signed off.

  With only Ship left on comm, Gregori switched his attention back to his lieutenant. He risked a lot pursuing this, but if he could convince Niko, the rest of the team would be a lock. “Niko, think. We can’t let the Terrans die. All these women and children. We have to do something.”

  By the Mother, everyone had been stunned by Terran fertility when they’d discovered the planet months ago while tracking entity activity in this dimension. And now to lose that?

  “They won’t all die. Retrievers are en route.”

  “How do you know that? It’s news to me, and I’m in charge.” Ship was seriously jumping the gun if retrievers had already been sent.

  “Ah.” Niko cleared his throat. “Standard procedure.”

  “No, it’s not. We only confirmed failure a couple minutes ago. What’s going on, Ship?”

  When Ship didn’t answer, Niko told him, “What difference does it make what procedure is used as long as we preserve the stock? We have to head for base, Gregori. We can’t let the entities catch us.”

  “All of you?” Gregori asked the team. “All of you are giving up?”

  Niko was the only one who answered. “Obeying orders isn’t giving up. It’s code.”

  “Now you’re code-pure?” Gregori mocked. Terra’s abundance of females had been difficult for the team to resist, despite their mission and their facade as angeli. Yet it was this abundance that made Terra so important to preserve.

  Human males, the fleet had in plenty. But there weren’t plenty of human females, not for several generations. How many innocent lives could the retrievers save?

  Not enough. Whatever the retrievers did, it could never be enough.

  “I’m staying.” Gregori refused to sacrifice Terra and everything it represented to his people so easily. “Gonna try a few things.”

  “You’re going rogue? You?” Nikolas said. “You’d endanger your own people over this?”

  “I didn’t say anything about going rogue. I said I was gonna try a few things. I’ll be careful.” Gregori had no intention of letting a shade absorb his energies and alert a leviathan that a Ship was within range.

  The headset crackled. Gregori wasn’t sure if it was static or Nikolas cursing. “You have to come back with us, Gregori. It’s too dangerous.”

  “Aw, Niko, I didn’t know you cared.”

  The other man did curse this time, heartily. “Ship, request permission to relieve Gregori 1929 CallenMali-son of Team Alpha command.”

  Gregori’s fists clenched. Would Ship grant Nikolas’s request? Handlers did go rogue on occasion, but not on planets destined to be swarmed. It put Ship at risk in a way standard defection didn’t. “I guess that’s one way to gain a captaincy, Niko.”

  No one spoke for a long moment, at least not where Gregori was included in the transmission.

  “We can force you to return to base,” Nikolas threatened.

  “You’d fight me?” Gregori stopped firing at shades. It was one thing for his team to follow Ship’s orders or the general’s orders. It was another for them to take it upon themselves to force the decision on him. Disruption of free will was technically against code. “You can try.”

  The hiss of entities grew louder and louder, and the white glow of Niko’s force field increased like a tiny nova. “If Ship commands it, we can find you anywhere you go.”

  “If Ship won’t bend code to train a native strike force to save this planet, it’s not going to use planetwide sensors.” Terran science would be able to detect those, which would hardly jibe with the angeli mythos.

  “You’re a traitor to your people.”

  “What about the Terran people?”

  Gregori noticed the others power up their force fields, too, preparing for something. He hoped it wasn’t mutiny.

  “Preservation of Ship at all costs,” Niko said gruffly. “It’s the first of all codes. We’re out.”

  “If I avoid getting eaten, what the frag does preservation of…,” Gregori began, but his teammates were already in the air. Their wing packs hummed as they jetted away like shooting stars, leaving him alone to face the maelstrom.

  He could go. He wouldn’t have to watch this planet be consumed if he enrolled in counseling, pleading post-traumatic stress. He’d be demoted to a population Ship temporarily, but he wouldn’t have to watch Terra die, inch by inch and soul by soul.

  Or he could stay. Go down, as the Terrans said, with the ship. Their Ship.

  But fail? That he couldn’t do.

  So he was staying. Because this time, this planet, was different. All these humans. All these children. Gregori’s future had been cinched the moment Adam Alsing hadn’t stopped the hatching. While he couldn’t imagine what had gone wrong with the Chosen One’s idiot-proof mission, the fact was, something had.

  Anger infused Gregori with motivation. Too bad it couldn’t power his blaster. Whatever he did, he couldn’t remain here forever. Soon, enough begetter drones would arrive, with their force field and their kill zone. The entities would converge on him, drawn to the only sentient in the vicinity.

  Presumably. Who knew if any Terrans with their videophones had remained behind to capture the apocalypse and post it on their Internet? Or, more likely, to prove the apocalypse was fake. Terra was worth preserving, by the Mother was it worth preserving, but that didn’t make some of the people less annoying.

  And he’d thought the Glaviris had been foolhardy.

  Well, they had, but unlike the Terrans, their Chosen One had come through.

  The breeze shifted, and the shades scented him. A portion oozed in his direction across buckled pavement. Hundreds now, but thousands to come. Thousands upon thousands. From the nexus, from the begetters, from Terra’s hell. Slow-moving, implacable, and unstoppable without the proper technology.

  Technology he had. For now.

  Gregori expanded his wings to relocate to a stronger tactical position. Every shade he picked off was one that couldn’t drain a Terran. Or him. With skillful flaps, he rose swiftly to the tower where Niko had been stationed. Wind buffeted his force field.

  He backstroked, hovering, before landing on the building with a thunk. His knees bent to absorb the shock.

  The tableau before him was almost overwhelming. The pinhole area roiled with shades pouring through. Black, black, and more black. The begetters that had arrived were giant, red-gashed ovoids. Not enough to form the defensive force field yet, but it wouldn’t be long. The entities parted, and Gregori glimpsed the pinhole, gleaming with dark energy.

  Antimatter. Staring at it too long was like staring at a sun in reverse. No tears, because it sucked the moisture from his eyes and disrupted his ability to focus.

  As the Chosen One had too frequently said…fuck this shit.

  He checked the levels on his blaster band. Nine-tenths. No daemons yet, just drones and shades. Soul eaters. He could hear their death squalls, and that pleased him. He deserved some small reward for the sacrifice he might eventually make.

  Mother knew he’d had little enough pleasure in his life.

  He just had to be careful not to let any of his comrades stop him. He just had to be careful not to get himself eaten until his people and his Ship were far, far away.

  Chapter Two

  Six months after the angeli appeared in Earth’s skies with warnings of doom.

  Three weeks after the pinhole opened and doom began to prosper.

  When the world ended, Adelita Martinez intended to be standing at the edge of the Grand Canyon. She had her watch set to the minute the scientists predicted the horde would reach the northern rim. She figured if she jumped when she saw the diabolos coming for her, she could go out flying and see the Grand Canyon at the same time.

  It’s not as if anyone on Earth had years to complete a bucket list. No matter what anyone believed, one thing was clear. If she didn’t see the canyon soon, she never would.

  Getting there, howev
er, had proven to be a hassle. Driving her Jeep Wrangler through the deserted land between coast and canyon had been a series of pitfalls and near misses. She’d had to shoot that one man, and there had been starving coyotes three campsites ago. Not to mention the soldiers in Reno who tried to take her to a refugee camp and the black diabolos in Utah that crawled out of the Great Salt Lake while she was napping.

  Right out of the water! Who knew how long they’d been hiding in there?

  They’d been the slow ones. She’d escaped. If they’d been fast ones, the demonios rojos, she wouldn’t still be here, maneuvering her Jeep around a clog of abandoned trucks and motor homes on the highway through the grass and forests in northern Arizona.

  The embankment was steep. Tricky. Adelita shoved the Jeep into first gear and tapped the gas. She peered into each vehicle as she jounced past, alert for ambushes. Soon she’d need more gasoline. She’d siphon if she could, use her cans if she must.

  She could stop now and siphon. Search the cars for food and water. But she was so close. The map said so.

  Impatient, Adelita jerked back onto the asphalt and gunned the Jeep. The road emerged from a stand of aspens and pines into a broad green meadow, and she was anxious to cover ground. She fancied she could hear the wind inside the Grand Canyon already, rushing and wailing.

  In some ways, the northern rim wasn’t unlike the coastal town where she’d lived until three weeks ago. The army, and common sense, had relocated the population on this side of the Rockies. Jet contrails crisscrossed the blue sky as military planes scouted the horde’s progress. A beautiful day, a hot July day, as if nothing on earth were wrong.

  But everything was wrong.

  Everything was wrong, and she was completely alone. Except for the jets.

  One thing they’d learned these terrible weeks? If they didn’t feed the horde, the horde turned sluggish. What the horde wanted to eat was people. Souls. The red ones kidnapped or killed, the black ones devoured, and the big ones, well, they stayed near la boca del infierno—mouth of hell—and created more diabolos. While everyone hoped the light of rapture would take them, as it had many children and women, they all knew, because of their sins, it was unlikely. The holiest priest at Adelita’s church hadn’t been taken, and if Padre Humberto wasn’t fit for Jesus, nobody was.

  They’d all been left behind. The president said the only thing that could kill the black devils were the angeli. The soldiers kept trying, of course, and had managed to take out a few red daemons. They’d had less success launching missiles at la boca because of some kind of protective EMP field. Even so, there was talk of nukes, or there had been the last time she’d gotten the radio to work. But the angeli had deserted them, except Archangel Gregori, and from what she’d heard, he’d been cast from heaven for pride or envy or something.

  Just Earth’s luck—the heavenly host who’d stuck by them was a fallen angel. Nothing was going according to the good book. Nothing was going according to physics, either. No one could explain what had happened, but there was no denying one obvious reality.

  The end had come.

  Already the western seaboard of the United States was off-limits. She wasn’t supposed to be here. Maybe she’d leave the bad zone after she saw the canyon. Maybe she’d cross the Navajo Bridge and head for Niagara Falls.

  Bucket list item forty-three.

  Then again, she was beginning to wonder if she’d ever get to the canyon. These roads. Miles and miles she’d traveled, through several states, detours derailing her time and again. You would think people could have cleared their SUVs and tractor trailers off the highways, but no, as soon as they’d received the broadcast that the Chosen One had failed and evil walked the earth unchecked, they’d abandoned their homes and vehicles, rounded up by soldiers or fleeing on foot whenever a traffic jam lasted too long.

  To wherever it was they thought they could hide from the Lord’s wrath.

  Idiots. Nearly all believers now, but stupid ones just the same.

  Adelita wasn’t avoiding the wrath. She had sinned. She’d coveted and lied and dressed immodestly and cursed and doubted and fornicated with five different men—while using condoms. She was twenty-six years old, after all. And now, now she’d taken a life and was contemplating suicide. There were hardly worse sins than what she’d done.

  So no, she wasn’t avoiding the wrath, she simply wanted to see the Grand Canyon before she got what she deserved. And possibly Niagara Falls.

  More cars blocked the road ahead, all headed away from the canyon, while she was headed toward it. Some blockages were created when the military cleared people faster than they could drive. And some, well, Adelita didn’t want to think why other areas she’d driven through were devoid of living souls.

  No one could outrun the devils forever. Adelita sighed and looked to the sky. Skydiving was one bucket list item she was going to have to let go. At least until the time came to jump.

  Not wanting to dwell, she switched on the radio. It crackled with static, as usual. No one left to transmit in this part of the country. She eased a compact disc into the slot, an audiobook by a dead white man that hadn’t been holding her interest.

  It still didn’t.

  Some things on her bucket list hadn’t been worth the paper it had taken to write them on. So she flung the disc out the open window like a Frisbee and laughed. The sound hurt her throat and rang like the caw of Senor Crow in her ears.

  Perhaps it was time for a break. Slowing the Jeep, she glanced around for a parking spot where she could avoid a heat headache.

  Her gaze caught on a jet crossing the sky in the north. As it grew closer, Adelita could hear its supersonic scream. Her shoulders hunched and her eyes squinted, as if that could block out the sound. That pilot was in a hurry, all right. Flying hard, flying dangerous. Flying over the pointed tops of the pine trees, lower than…

  Adelita slammed on the brakes and muscled the Jeep into park. To get a better view, she yanked open the door and stared toward the oncoming jet, her eyes shaded by her hand.

  Its contrail wasn’t white but gray. Blackish. Like smoke. The shape was wrong. Still a dot, but closer than she’d seen any jets the past three weeks.

  Was it a jet?

  Whatever it was, it seemed to be headed straight for her. The sonic squeal grew until it filled the world. Perhaps the jet intended to use the road as a landing strip.

  Adelita glanced wildly around for something that could protect her. The trees? Maybe, but the Jeep would bottom out in the bumpy meadow. She leaped away from the pavement as fast as she could, stumbling over roots and rocks, hoping she wouldn’t disturb any snakes.

  She fell over a log, cutting her knee. Madre de Dios! Should have worn jeans instead of shorts, but it was so hot.

  The earth shuddered as the jet drew closer. The piercing whine was unbearable. Tiny hairs on her neck, in her ears, bristled. She picked herself up and ran.

  The impact sent her tumbling through the air. When she landed, she skinned her palms, her forearms, her legs. She tried to roll into a ball to protect her head and stomach. Finally came to a stop against a rock, her body bruised and raw.

  Adelita didn’t bother to pray, because where had that gotten anyone?

  Bits of debris pattered to the ground. The world was still spinning, and she huddled into herself. An odd, nearly silent detonation shook the ground again.

  Something keened, not a mechanical sound but animal. The wail rose higher and higher until Adelita could only sense it, worse than the approach of the jet. Every atom of her body knew that something was very, very wrong in that sound.

  Then there was silence.

  She counted to 120 before she got up. Her body hated the movement, and blood trickled down her shins. Smeared her hands and arms. Trembling, her stomach a ball of nerves, she wiped blood on her shirt and started toward the road.

  Her Jeep waited, the open door swinging in the breeze. In the roadblock she’d been about to drive around, all the cars we
re intact.

  She didn’t see a crashed jet. Could she have stayed in her Jeep instead of fleeing like a silly jackrabbit across the meadow?

  Her palms and knees throbbed with every step. When the adrenaline ebbed, nothing seemed broken. No stabbing pains. She could handle scrapes and cuts.

  Where had this not-a-jet landed, if not the road? And what creature had it landed on?

  She clambered up the embankment and peered in the direction the jet must have crashed. Smoke rose in a thin plume a short distance into the trees. A hawk called somewhere.

  The summer sun wrapped her head like a hot towel. Sweat dripped down her cheek and between her breasts, and she felt the twinge of a budding headache. A fine companion for the other aches in her body. She scrambled in her Jeep for her sun hat, raisins, and a bottled water as she decided what to do.

  She could drive to the canyon. She was so close.

  Or she could investigate.

  When the plume of smoke died down, Adelita could see a twinkle between the trees. She tossed the raisin box into the Jeep and grabbed her binoculars, but the wreckage was concealed by foliage.

  There was nothing for it. She had to know. Curiosity killed many cats, and Adelita figured she was on life five by now. She flicked the safety off her pistol and unsnapped the knife in her belt holster, just in case.

  Cautiously, she picked her way across the meadow. The closer she drew to the wreckage, the more she smelled something…bad. Acrid and foul. Her boots crunched on twigs and grass. Blood dripped down her shins. A chipmunk skittered across a patch of sandy ground, jolting her heart. She nearly wasted a bullet on it before she realized it wasn’t a snake.

  The smell grew stronger. Chemical spill? She reached the tree line.

  A breeze eddied around her, danced around the trees. Minimal underbrush surrounded the tall, straight trunks, and the ground was carpeted by pine needles. Her nose scrunched and her heart unsteady, she arrived at a small clearing.