When these women are let through, a group at the edge of the crowd exchanges goods. It takes me a minute to understand that they’re taking bets on who gets in. A bookie points to several women near the guards, then accepts items from the people around him. The bettors are mostly men, but there are women in the group too. Each time a woman is let through, one of the bettors walks away with an armful of goods.
I want to ask what’s going on, why humans want to go into angel territory and why these people camp out here. But I would only prove Raffe right about acting like a little girl asking too many questions. So I tamp down the flood of questions and ask the one that’s operationally relevant.
“What if they don’t let us go through?” I ask, trying not to move my lips.
“They will,” he answers from the dark recesses of the backseat footwell.
“How do you know?”
“Because you have the look they’re looking for.”
“What look is that?”
“Beautiful.” His voice is like a caress from the shadows.
No one has ever told me I’m beautiful before. I’ve been too preoccupied with dealing with my mother and taking care of Paige to pay much attention to my looks. Heat flushes my cheeks, and I hope I don’t look like a clown when I get to the checkpoint. If Raffe is right and this is the only way in, I need to look as good as I can if I want a chance of seeing Paige again.
By the time I reach the front of the chaotic line, several women have just about thrown themselves at the guards. None of them were allowed in. It doesn’t make me feel any better about my greasy hair as I drive up to the guards.
They give me a bored once-over. There are two of them. Their speckled wings look small and withered compared to Raffe’s. One of the guards’ face is lightly speckled with green, just like his wings. The word dappled comes to mind, like a horse. Looking into his face is a wrenching reminder that they are not human. That Raffe is not human.
Dappled waves at me to come out of the car. I hesitate for a moment before slowly getting out. He didn’t do that with the other girls in the cars in front of me.
I pull down my hem to make sure it covers my butt. The guards look at me up and down. I resist the urge to slouch and cross my arms across my breasts.
Dappled waves for me to spin around. I feel like a stripper and I want to kick them in the teeth, but I do a slow spin for them on my unsteady heels. Paige. Think about Paige.
The guards exchange a look. I frantically think about what I could do or say to try to get them to let me through. If Raffe says this is the way in, then I must find a way to get them to let me in.
Dappled waves me through.
I’m so stu
Then, before they can change their minds, I turn away from them so that if they shake their heads, I can’t see it. I slide back into the car as casually as I can.
The little hairs on the back of my neck stand stiff in anticipation of a whistle blowing, or a hand on my shoulder, or German Shepherds nosing in behind me just like in the old war movies. We are, after all, at war, aren’t we?
But none of that happens. I start the engine and they wave me through. And I gain another piece of information. The angels don’t see humans as a threat. So what if a few monkeys get in through the cracks in their fence or crawl in little go-carts around the base of their nest? How hard would it be for them to take us down and contain the intruding animals?
“Where are we?” Raffe asks from the shadows behind me.
“In hell,” I say. I keep the speed at a steady twenty miles per hour. The streets are empty here so I could go sixty if I want, but I don’t want to call attention to us.
“If this is your idea of hell, you’re very i
I look around the weirdly deserted streets. A few women, looking cold and forlorn in the howling San Franciscan wind, stumble down the sidewalk toward some destination only they know. I keep driving, looking at the empty streets. Then I see people spilling out of a tall building along a side street.