Angels on Fire Read Online Free Page B

except for its head, which tracked her with the steadiness of a bank-camera. Lucy met its unwavering gaze, and saw that her initial impression from the night before had indeed been correct: the angel’s irises were completely without color. This was made even stranger by the pupils, which were starburst in shape and appeared overlarge in the otherwise empty eyes.
    Even though it was obvious the angel could see perfectly well—especially in the dark— Lucy found herself thinking of her grandmother’s cataracts.
    “Uh—hi,” Lucy said, clearing her throat.
    The angel tilted its head, regarding her like a baffled hound.
    “Sorry about last night. It’s just that after living alone in New York for so long—you know how it is.”
    The angel’s pale brow knitted slightly, as if trying to decipher a particularly difficult math problem, then tilted its head to the other side.
    “Uh—well, I guess maybe you don’t know, what with, uh, you being new here and all. But I think we ought to try and start off again on the right foot—don’t you agree?”
    The angel merely stared at her with its crystal-clear eyes which, she now realized, had yet to blink. Lucy had no idea whether the creature seated in front of her was even capable of comprehending human speech. Although it had spoken earlier, it was possible it had merely been parroting sounds, the way a birdwatcher might imitate the warbling of a thrush to lure it into view.
    “My name is Lucy. Lucy Bender.” She spoke slowly and pointed to herself, tapping her breastbone with a forefinger. Then she smiled and pointed at the angel. “And your name is—?”
    The angel’s frowned for a second, then the knot of its brow loosened and it said in a voice as bright and soothing to the ear as a wind- chime stirred by a lazy breeze: “Joth.”
    Lucy let out a deep breath. Okay, at least communicating with the thing was easier than talking to the average cab driver.
    “You are a deathling, Lucy Bender.”
    Her smile disappeared. Maybe speaking English wasn’t going to make communication that much easier, after all. “Uh—I’m a human, if that’s what you mean.”
    “You die. You are a deathling.” Joth spoke as casually as if it was telling her the sky was blue. Lucy did not feel threatened or menaced by the statement, although had it come from anyone or anything else that most surely would not have been the case.
    “Die? Me? Personally? Well, not yet—I mean—” She was quickly getting flustered. She wasn’t sure what she’d expected to be the first statement out of the angel’s mouth, but she certainly hadn’t expected it to be, well, so personal.
    Joth pointed at the television, which was still chattering away to itself on the dresser. “These creatures are deathlings as well?”
    “I guess you could say that.”
    “I want to see other deathlings.” Joth got to its feet so quickly she didn’t see it move. One moment it was perched on the chair, knees drawn up to its chin, the next it was facing her, peering at her with its unwavering, translucent gaze.
    Lucy was so startled she couldn’t find the breath to cry out—all that came from her was a sharp, short gasp. The angel was so close it threatened to send her into a claustrophobic panic. Whatever it might or might not know about “deathlings,” it was clearly ignorant of personal space. Lucy reflexively planted a hand on the creature’s hairless chest, which felt as smooth as a firm peach, and gave it a gentle shove. To her surprise, the angel flew backward, striking the easy chair with enough force to knock it over.
    “Oh God! I’m so sorry! Are you okay!?!” she gasped. “I didn’t mean to do that!”
    “I do not understand—I have done wrong?” There was no surprise, no anger, and no fear in Joth’s face or in its voice, just confusion.
    “I really didn’t mean to push you that hard! It’s just—well, you can’t do that!”
    “What must I not do?”
    “Stand that close! And