We had ridden for hours when we hit what looked like a massive parking lot. We were in the middle of a sandy desert, dotted with shrubs stretched as far as the eye could see. Red-rock buttes loomed along the horizon. The sea of chrome and steel looked out of place in the desolate landscape. Hundreds of cars filled the narrow road. The westbound lanes were just as packed as the eastbound. It was like no one knew which direction to go.
Tristan’s body tensed as we inched down the highway, weaving in and out of the endless row of cars. I was about to look into one of them when I heard him suck in his breath. I tightened my grip as the bike swerved. He drove off the pavement and onto the soft shoulder, getting as far away as he could from the cars.
Sand flew everywhere as he took off, desperate to get away from the metal graveyard. The farther we went, the more cars we ran into. On the road, off the road, we had no choice, but to slow down and make our way around them car by car.
Then I made the mistake of looking into one of them.
There was nothing unusual about the vehicle. It was a typical soccer-mom minivan filled with grocery bags and suitcases. A stuffed unicorn with a rainbow-colored mane lay on its side on one of the seats. It’s black eyes gazed at the removable infant carrier, the straps of the empty harness indicating the child had been quickly removed. A bottle of formula sat dripping onto the upholstery. It had clearly been full and was surely spoiled.
I sobbed, tearing my eyes away. Did the warrior angels do this? Did they make everyone . . . disappear?
I kept my eyes on the horizon, afraid of what more I would see.
When we finally passed a ‘Welcome to the Land of Enchantment’ sign, a heavy weight lifted. One more state to go, then we’d finally be in Texas and away from this nightmare.
“Over there,” Tristan said, waving others toward a deserted gas station.
“Tristan,” I said, when he turned off the engine.
He paused, his head hanging down. “Please, not now.”
“Those empty cars . . . ?”
“I need to help Zac siphon the gas.” He jumped off the bike and joined Zac and Val.
I got off the bike and made a beeline to an old-fashioned payphone booth next to the station.
“That thing belongs in a museum,” Jo said, as she held out a chocolate bar. “Candy?”
“I need this so much right now.” I tore the wrapper open and broke off a large piece, shoving it in my mouth.
She leaned against the wall, looking out into the horizon. “That looks so weird.”
“What’s weird?”
“The rain clouds. They’re massive. And they’re not moving. I’ve never seen anything like that.”
She was right. Sheets of rain fell in the distance, but the dark clouds didn’t move. The edges of the clouds were ruler straight. It was as if they had been painted onto the sky.
I sighed, popped the last piece of chocolate in my mouth, and picked up the telephone receiver. “I’m getting used to seeing weird on a daily basis now.”
The receiver crumbled in my hand. Shards of black plastic fell to the ground, the smaller pieces adhering to my sticky hands.
“Great. That’s just great.” Tears stung my eyes as everything hit me all at once—Tristan’s surprise fiancée, the fire, the abandoned cars.
“Hey, it’s okay. We made it out,” Jo said, patting my shoulder.
“They didn’t.” I wiped my hands on my jeans.
“Karenna.” She was using that voice she always used when she had something to say I didn’t want to hear.
“What?”
“It’s not your fault, what happened in Red River. It’s not his fault either.”
I watched Tristan as he silently worked with Zac. His shoulders were hunched forward as if he was carrying a heavy burden. His once teasing blue eyes were blank now. It was as if he was closing himself off from everyone around him. He was hurting. He was torn up about it just as much as I was.
“I know.”
After the bikes were refueled and we had stocked up on whatever necessities we could find, we got back on the road. After a few hours the road finally cleared, and we were able to speed up. Even though we were able to go faster, I couldn’t shake the eerie feeling growing inside of me.
A cool wind hit my back. It felt odd given the hot desert air hitting my face. I craned my neck, looking over my shoulder. The strange cloud formation was getting closer. Cold hit the pit of my stomach.
“What crazy hell is this?” Tristan grumbled, as he slowed the motorcycle.
I faced forward, gazing curiously at the long black marks on the highway. They lined the length of the road with only a few inches of space between them. A dark powdery substance billowed into the air. There was a strange smell, like burnt rubber.
“What is that?” I asked.
“I’m not sure.”
Zac and Val had ridden far ahead, not bothering to look at the marks. Calder and Jo zoomed past us. Calder’s jaw was tense, his eyes glued to the horizon. Jo looked at me with wide panicked eyes.
We studied the markings. Some were as long as the length of an eighteen-wheel truck. Others were smaller, like the size of a typical car.
“I think . . . no,” Tristan breathed. His fist tightened, and the whites of his knuckles popped out as he yelled at the sky. “No!”
He revved the engine and leaned forward. “Hold on!”
I yelped as the motorcycle jerked forward, taking off like a rocket.
“Is it them? Are the black marks a sign?” I yelled over the roar of the engine.
His shoulders shook in response. I gazed at the black markings. Then the answer clicked.
Cars. They were cars.
Cars that had once been filled with families and were now zapped into oblivion.
Tears spilled down my cheeks as Tristan pushed the bike to its top speed. The marks sped by in a long black blur.
The angels had done this. They hadn’t spared anyone or any place. There was no escaping the destruction.
I dropped my head, pressing my forehead onto Tristan’s back. My body shook with his.
I shivered as the sun set on the horizon, creating an orange glow. When we passed a billboard advertisement for Cimarron Salvage, Tristan sped past the others, pointing to a gravel road. We drove down the road until the gravel turned to dirt and trees made it impossible to drive any farther.
“We’re camping here,” Tristan said, climbing off the bike. “It’s far off the main road. The trees should keep us hidden. Hopefully.”
“I can keep going.” My sore thighs and butt said otherwise.
Tristan kept his head down as he fiddled over the motorcycle, like he was checking the mechanics. “Humans need to rest.”
“I’m fine, Tristan. I’m positive Jo can on—”
Jo groaned loudly, waddling past us. She rubbed her lower back and complained about her stiff knees.
“We could rest a bit, but we can get back on the road,” I said. “Maybe within the hour?”
His eyes flicked up to mine. His voice a whisper. “I can’t. I need the break.”
He walked away and joined Zac and Val.
“Karenna, come join us,” Calder called out as he helped Jo with her backpack.
“Did you see those black marks?” I asked. “What if . . . my parents . . . Lucy . . . ?”
“Don’t. They’re fine. My family is fine too. You’ll see,” she said with finality.
“There were hundreds of them.”
She shuddered. “Please let’s not talk about it anymore. I need to focus. I can’t . . . I can’t . . . ”
“Let’s say we start a fire. It’s getting a little chilly,” Calder said, placing his arm around her, rubbing her arm.
She smiled up at him. “I have a lighter.”
When we finally made camp and the fire was blazing, we sat around the fire. My upper back muscles throbbed, and I alternated between massaging them and nibbling on a protein bar. It was so quiet even the insects were mysteriously silent. All I could hear was the crackling of the fire and the bubbling of a nearby stream. Tristan sat across from me, staring at the dancing flames.
“Here,” Val said, suddenly standing beside me, holding out my dagger.
I took it from her, surprised she was giving it back. “Thanks.”
“No, thank you. You didn’t have to, uh . . . it was brave of you to do what you did back there.”
I balked at the sincere words from someone I thought hated me.
“I . . . you . . . I mean, you needed help. I wasn’t sure if this would help or not. It was the only thing I had,” I said.
“Did you know this can kill an angel?”
“It can? I thought only the swords could do that.”
Val’s eyes flicked to Calder. “You told them?”
“It’s not his fault,” Jo jumped in before Calder could answer. “He didn’t want to tell me at first, but I got it out of him. Blame me.”
“No, I told her willingly, my lady.” Calder shifted, angling his body to put himself between them. “I’m the one you should be angry with.”
“No one is mad at anyone, Calder,” Zac said as he sat next to Tristan. He nudged Tristan’s arm, raising an eyebrow. Tristan muttered something under his breath.
Val sighed in response to whatever Tristan had said. I looked over at Jo, wondering if she had heard. She shrugged.
“We’re all friends here, Calder,” Val said. “And it’s Val, remember?”
“Yes, sorry . . . Val.” Calder smiled, glancing at Jo as he let out a breath of relief.
“May I take a look at it? Where did you get it?” Tristan’s voice cut through the still air, surprising me. He got up and came to my side. Jo immediately moved over, making space for him.
“Hali Ledi, the young mother at the camp,” I said, handing him the dagger when he plopped down next to me.
“Hmm.” He took it out of its sheath, studying it. “Isn’t this the dagger you threw at me?”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t know it was you.”
“Keep this with you at all times. You’ll need it. Just make sure you remember to take it out of the sheath.” He handed it back to me, giving me a whisper of a smile.
“You should keep it. Or Zac. You’re the fighters. You don’t even have swords.”
“That’s because angels don’t kill. We only protect,” Zac said. “That dagger was created by using the Dark Ways just like the swords.”
“But the warrior angels in Vegas had swords,” Jo pointed out. “And they sure weren’t afraid to use them on you. How are you going to beat them without weapons?”
“Even with a sword, it’s still difficult to kill an angel,” Calder said. “Skill and speed are needed. And Zac is the most—”
“We’ll find a way,” Zac interrupted.
Tristan shook his head, murmuring under his breath. “Wishful thinking.”
“Yes, I do wish. I was merely scratched. As painful as it was, my life was spared. It gives me hope. I pray our brothers, and others, will find their way back.”
“They were toying with you,” Tristan mumbled.
“Tristan has a point,” I said. “I mean, why would they create them if not to use them?”
“They didn’t create them,” Tristan asserted. “The Eljo did.”
“Elmo?” Jo knitted her brow.
Calder laughed. “Not Elmo. Eljo. They’re a sect of the Nephilim. They were taught the Dark Ways by fallen angels who joined Belial centuries ago. The Eljo passed on the Dark Ways through the generations.” He shifted, turning to me. “This Hali woman must’ve been Eljo, but why would she give the dagger to you?”
“I don’t know.”
“Hold up,” Jo said, staring into the fire in deep concentration. “Let me get this straight. There’s good angels, you guys, and you call yourselves Watchers.”
“Yes,” Calder said.
Val and Zac looked at Jo amused as she tried to work out who was responsible for all the madness going on the past few days.
“And there’s these moron angels who think they’re all bad ass with their angel killer swords working for”—she turned to Tristan—“your dad.”
He frowned. “Yes.”
“And he wants to be head honcho in Heaven because being royalty isn’t enough for him.”
Tristan winced.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean for it to come out like that,” Jo said.
“No, you’re right. My dad and the angels who follow him are morons.”
She chuckled. “Okay, then there are the Nephilim. And you”—she turned back to Calder—“said there are sex.”
Calder’s face reddened. “Sects.”
“Sects! I meant sects!” Jo said, flustered.
Tristan raised an eyebrow as he gazed over at Calder. Val shook her head.
Jo cleared her throat and continued, “Which means there’s more than one. Oh, my god. I’m living in a fantasy telenovela.”
“That sounds about right,” Zac said.
“And then there’s this crazy chick who claims to be Tristan’s fiancée. What’s up with her?”
My eyes darted to Tristan. I was dying to know the answer, but I was afraid to ask. Leave it to Jo to be the one to do it.
Zac’s face dropped, and everyone grew quiet. They shifted uncomfortably at the question.
He suddenly jumped to his feet. “I’ll check the perimeter. Just to be sure no one is . . . out . . . ” his voice drifted off as he sped away.