Angel Burn (Book 1 Of Angel Trilogy)

Chapter 31| Going For Our Goal

Chapter 31| Going For Our Goal

Normal POV

SILVER GLANCED AROUND HIM nervously as he entered the café in Denver's Lower Downtown district. He didn't go into Denver much, spending most of his time at the cathedral, and had never been to LoDo, with its Victorian houses and art galleries, at all. It had taken him several wrong turns to even find the café, much less somewhere to park. More than once he had been tempted, strongly, to just forget the whole thing and go back to his apartment at the cathedral.

But somehow he hadn't.

Now, as he ordered a cappuccino at the counter, he heard someone say his name. "Silver Fullbuster?"

He turned and saw a tall man with broad shoulders and blond hair standing there. He had the same intense eyes as Jude. Silver licked his lips. "Yes, that's me."

The angel held out his hand. "Bickslow. Thanks for coming."

Silver nodded, still unsure whether he should have done so. When he'd gotten his coffee, he followed the angel to a table at the rear of the café, half hidden by a large ficus tree. A woman of about thirty with shoulder-length brown hair was already sitting there, wearing a tailored suit. She half rose as Silver approached.

"Hi. I'm Evergreen," she said, offering her hand. Her brown eyes weren't angel intense, but they were still pretty intense. Silver shook her hand, then sat down hesitantly, suddenly feeling as awkward as he'd felt back at college.

"Well, first of all, thanks for the tip-off," said the angel. There was a half-drunk coffee in front of him; he took a sip. "I thought Evergreen and I had gotten out in time; I didn't realize that they were on to me."

"That's OK," said Silver, his voice faint. It hadn't really been his intention to tip the angel off that the others were aware of his traitorous activities; he had just needed to talk to him. But of course in doing so, the effect had been the same. Already, just by doubting the angels, he may have caused irreparable harm to them. His stomach clenched at the thought.

Gazing down, he stirred his cappuccino. "Look, I'm not sure I should be here. I mean, I just wonder if all of this is a mistake. The angels helped me; they really did."

"You've seen one?" asked Bickslow. "In its divine form, I mean?"

"Yes, it changed my life." Silver described the encounter.

As he finished, Bickslow sat back in his seat, a look of surprised pleasure crossing his handsome face. "One of the marshallers," he said to Evergreen. "How about that for luck, with the Second Wave about to come— that Silver ended up as Jude's right-hand man?"

"Um. . . what?" said Silver.

Evergreen leaned toward him. "Listen, it's not a mistake, I'm afraid," she said crisply. "Angels are here because their own world is dying; they're feeding off humans. They cause death, disease, mental illness. We've been trying to fight them covertly, but now that the department's been taken over—" She sighed.

"What about the angel I saw, though?" said Silver. "She was. . ." He trailed off. The angel who had come to him was one of his most cherished memories; he didn't want anything to change that.

"She was on our side," said Bickslow. "Not all of us believe that angels have the right to destroy humanity; a few of us are trying to stop it. She didn't feed from you; she was doing something called marshaling— placing a small amount of psychic resistance in your aura to make you unpalatable to other angels. It can sometimes be passed from human to human, too, in the right conditions, through auric contact— it's our hope that if we do enough of this, it might start to make a difference."

Unpalatable to other angels. Silver froze in his seat. His words stumbling over themselves, he said, "I— I've seen other angels in their divine form since then, at the cathedral, but— they never touch me for more than a second. I just sort of get glimpses of them, and then they're gone." Dizzily, he remembered the woman in the corridor, the long moments she'd spent smiling upward. The angel touching her had clearly been taking its time doing it.

Bickslow nodded. "It worked, then— good. It doesn't always."

"Which means you don't have angel burn," added Evergreen.

"Angel burn?" Silver raised his coffee cup, holding it in front of him almost like a shield. As Evergreen explained, he felt himself go pale. "You're saying that it's true, then; the angels really are feeding off people. Literally feeding off them, hurting them. And that— that the people just see them as good and kind."

"That's about right," said Evergreen. "Apart from the physical damage, it pretty much fries the human brain. You get sort of obsessed with them— everything is praise be to angels."

Silver winced at the familiar phrase.

Bickslow rested his muscular forearms on the table. Though the angel had an easy grace to him, he was built like a football player. "Look, the thing is, it's about to get a lot worse," he said. "And you're in a unique position to help us, if you'll do it."

The bustling café noise seemed to dim around him. Silver's heartbeat quickened with apprehension. "What do you want me to do?"

The pair told him. By the time they had finished, Silver's coffee had long grown cold and the funky LoDo caféwith its worn tables and posters of movies on the walls had taken on the feel of a nightmare. "I— I don't know if I can do that," he stammered. "I mean, it's true that I'm in charge of the celebration, but . . . "

"It all depends on finding the half angel," said Evergreen. "She's the only one who might be able to succeed." She let out a short breath. "We were close, but we lost them; now they could be anywhere."

"But even if we find her, we'd need your help to actually pull it off," said Bickslow. "We couldn't do it without you, in fact."

Silver stared down at his cup and saucer. His previous unshakable faith in the angels felt like a pain inside of him— something beautiful and precious that had been sullied forever. He didn't want to believe this; he wished that he could just get up and walk away and pretend that none of it had ever happened. But even if he did believe it, how could he possibly do what they were asking?

I can't, he thought. I just can't do it.

They were both watching him, waiting for him to speak. Finally Silver cleared his throat. "I'll have to think about it," he said.

Evergreen's mouth pursed with frustration; she started to say something, and Bickslow put a hand on her arm. "Do that," he said. "Silver, I think you know that we're telling you the truth. The situation is grave, and it will just get worse. Humanity as you know it isn't likely to survive this."

"You, more than anyone, know the sheer scale of this thing," said Evergreen tightly. "So, yes, think about it— but don't take too long; we're running out of time." She took out a business card and a pen, scratched out the phone number on the card, and wrote a new one. "Here," she said, handing it to him. "Call me the second you decide."

Silver nodded, gazing down at the card. EVERGREEN, CIA. He'd throw it away when he got back to his apartment, he thought. Even if every word they had said was true, there was simply no way he could do this.

"Thanks for coming," said Bickslow. His chair scraped against the floorboards as he stood up. "We'll leave you in peace now. And, Silver. . ."

Silver looked up, and the angel smiled at him— a sad, understanding smile, his eyes burning into Silver's. "Evergreen's right," he said. "Don't take too long."

L/N: Hehehe I wonder what Bickslow and Evergreen told them.... Hehehehe you'll just have to find out later! Levy and I can't talk in this chapter so I hope you enjoyed! Please vote or comment!

Arigatou!

~Lucy and Levy <3