Angel Burn

FOR A LONG TIME in the helicopter, nobody said anything.

Frank sat up front with the pilot, a man wearing sunglasses whose name Remus didn’t catch, and Alice sat in the back with him.

He was still clutching his bag, staring down at it, his throat so tight that he couldn’t have spoken if he tried.

The look on Sirius's face as he told Remus to leave . . . Remus's shoulders hunched as he held back a sob.

When they'd first flown away, Remus could actually feel his heart breaking, splintering to pieces inside his chest.

He couldn’t even be angry with Sirius for not understanding — Remus knew what this was doing to him.

Remus wanted so badly to tell Alice and Frank to turn the helicopter around, so that he could go running back to Sirius — throw his arms around him, tell him that Remus had changed his mind; he wasn’t going to do this after all.

But he couldn’t.

Below them, the mountains were slowly flattening, turning to desert plains.

“I’m sorry,” said Alice, leaning toward him to be heard above the blades. “The two of you are . . . together, aren’t you?”

Remus nodded, wondering if it was still true, and felt tears start to escape.

Rummaging quickly in her bag, Alice handed him a tissue. “You’re doing the right thing, Remus,” she said. “This is our only chance to stop the angels — we’re incredibly grateful to you. I know it must be awful.”

Remus wiped his cheek with the tissue. “I don’t have a choice,” he got out. “If I had a choice . . . ”

He couldn’t finish.

Oh, God, Sirius and him would be together right now, on their way down to Mexico.

His pendant flashed against his sweater; it hurt to even look at it.

Alice stopped talking then, and Remus was glad of it.

Dropping his head back on the seat, he stared at the blurred, watery plains.

A few hours later, they landed in Colorado, at a small, private airport outside of Denver.

Remus's legs were stiff as he climbed out of the helicopter; his ears still thudding from the incessant noise.

He could see the Rocky Mountains in the distance, their peaks capped with snow.

Remus looked away.

He didn’t think he could ever look at a mountain again without hurting.

Frank and Alice walked him across the pavement, where a car with tinted windows sat waiting for them.

He felt like he might fly apart into little pieces, but he knew that he had to at least try to act normal, or else he would just collapse.

He cleared his throat. “I thought you were the only two left on Project Angel.”

“We’re being sheltered by another department,” explained Frank. “They don’t know the details, just that we have high-security clearance and our mission’s been compromised.”

He opened the door for Remus as they reached the car, and he slid into the back, onto soft black leather seats.

It reminded him of Sirius's Porsche.

Everything around him reminded him of Sirius.

Frank got in front with the driver; a glass panel separated front from back.

Remus sat tensely with Alice beside him, hugging his bag and watching as the airport glided away.

Soon they were on a highway with green fields to either side, the mountains rising beyond.

Suddenly he looked over at Alice. “Do you know what’s been happening back in Pawtucket? Is my mom OK?”

Remus could sense her relief at being able to tell him something good.

“Your mom’s fine,” she said. “So’s your aunt.”

His muscles sagged. “Really? They’re OK?”

“Really. I promise.”

Oh, thank God. Remus let out a deep breath and felt the painful tightness in his chest ease slightly.

His mom was all right. She was really all right.

“What happened after I left?” He asked.

Alice took out a pack of cigarettes and lit one, then rolled the window down a few inches.

“The Church of Angels influenced the police investigation into your disappearance,” she said, leaning back and blowing out a puff of smoke. “It was closed after only a day or two. Basically, there were a hundred witnesses who said that you ran off with a boyfriend — that you were seen loading a suitcase into his car and kissing him.”

Remus stared as her words sank in.

No wonder Aunt Jo’s vibes had seemed so irritated every time he tried to pick up on them.

“But my friend Mary knew that wasn’t true. Didn’t she tell them?”

Alice smiled.

Taking an iPhone out of her bag, she tapped something into it and then handed it to Remus.

He gazed down at the small screen.

It had Twitter on it, with a post from Mary: REMUS LUPIN DID NOT HAVE A BOYFRIEND, END OF STORY! Doesn’t anyone actually CARE that my friend has vanished?

Oh, Mary. He touched the phone as sadness swept through him.

“No one’s listening to her,” said Alice, taking it back. “From what I’ve heard, your classmates back at Pawtucket High prefer the secret boyfriend story — and there are enough Church members in the Schenectady police force to ensure that no one’s going to look into things further.”

She put the phone back into her bag. “It’s probably what’s saved her life so far, to be honest.”

“Sirius said that there would be,” Remus said after a pause. “Church of Angels members on the police force, I mean.”

Alice's face was thoughtful as she flicked ash out the window. “He’s quite extraordinary,” she said. “For someone so young, to do the things he’s done. . . .”

“He’s never really been young,” Remus said softly, looking away. “He never had the chance.”

No, but when it was just the two of them, alone together — Remus pressed his head against the window, seeing Sirius's grin, his laughing eyes.

And then his face when he had realized Remus was leaving.

He hadn’t even told Remus good-bye.

Glancing at him, Alice went silent; they didn’t speak for a long time.

Finally the car took a turnoff, and a few minutes later they were heading down an unmarked drive.

A low, tan building rose up from a manicured lawn.

There were no signs.

Alice sat up, unfastening her seat belt. “A CIA satellite office,” she explained, though he hadn’t asked. “We can brief you here, and there are showers, beds . . . ”

Remus nodded dully, gazing at the stark, featureless building.

He was so far away from Sirius, almost a thousand miles.

It felt like every one of them was crushing his heart like a stone.

He got out of the car.

They walked up a short flight of cement stairs and then through a pair of gleaming glass doors.

Alice and Frank showed ID at a desk and then ushered Remus down a carpetless hallway.

The floor was so polished, Remus could see their reflections as they walked; their footsteps echoed around them.

“Here we go,” said Frank, opening a door.

They stepped into a small apartment with sofas and chairs.

A kitchenette sat at one end, with a breakfast counter and bar stools.

Alice put her briefcase onto the coffee table. “Would you like to get freshened up?” she asked Remus. “There’s a shower if you feel like it.”

She indicated the hallway past the kitchen.

Remus was still wearing the sweatpants and T-shirt he had slept in, and the red sweater Sirius had given him.

An irrational part of him never wanted to take them off, as if doing so would break the last link that Remus had with Sirius.

But it didn’t make any difference, did it?

Remus would probably never see Sirius again no matter what he wore. T

he thought lashed at him like a whip.

Then he realized that Alice and Frank were both looking at him, waiting for an answer.

“I guess,” he said, his voice barely audible, even to himself. “I don’t have any shampoo, though, or —”

Memories of the motel room in Tennessee swarmed over him, and he broke off, closing his eyes against the sudden pain.

“Sorry,” he said, trying to regain himself. “I don’t have any shampoo.”

Alice's brown eyes looked troubled, but she tried to smile. “Don’t worry. Everything you need’s in there.”

In the bathroom Remus stripped off his clothes, folding them carefully.

As he glanced in the mirror, the pendant gleamed on his chest.

He touched it, trying to comprehend how fast things had changed.

Just hours ago he'd been standing in front of the cabin with Sirius's arms around him, the two of them about to leave together.

Remus couldn’t hold it in any longer.

Turning on the shower so that he couldn’t be heard, he got in and sobbed, hugging himself as the hot water rained down around him.

Oh, Sirius. Oh, God, please don’t hate me, please don’t. I miss you so much already. I wanted it all with you, everything. I want you here with me now, to hold me and tell me it’s going to be OK, that maybe I won’t actually die when I do this thing. . . .

Remus cried until there were no tears left.

Feeling worse than he had before, he washed his hair and climbed out of the shower.

His face in the steamy mirror looked sore and swollen, as if someone had been using it as a punching bag.

He stared at himself, not caring.

Mechanically, he took the clothes from his bag and got dressed.

Underwear, jeans, and the pale-blue T-shirt. He pulled on the red sweater again.

It hurt, seeing it, but it would have hurt ten times worse not to wear it.

He combed out his wet hair.

When he went back into the living room, Frank and Alice were sitting on one of the sofas, talking.

They looked up, their faces furrowing in concern as they saw him.

Frank went over to the kitchenette and got out some mugs. “Coffee?”

Remus sat on the edge of the armchair. His head was throbbing. “No — thank you. Just water, please.”

“How about some food?” asked Alice.

She leaned forward with her arms on her knees, watching him. “We’ve got sandwiches, or we could order something else in if you want.”

“I’m not really hungry. Thanks,” Remus added faintly, as Frank filled a glass with ice water and brought it to Remus.

It was a hexagonal shape, and felt cool and slightly damp against his fingers.

He rubbed it against his aching eyes and forehead.

Frank leaned against the sofa. “You should eat something. You need to keep your strength up.”

Remus stared down at the glass in his hands, swirling the water. “Maybe later.”

Alice hesitated. “Look, Remus, we’re concerned about you, but we also have to confess to a certain amount of self-interest here. Believe me, I know what you must be going through, but . . . well, to put it bluntly, we need you to be able to function tomorrow.”

Pain kicked through him. He saw the cabin; felt himself falling asleep in the warmth of Sirius's arms.

Felt his lips, kissing Remus awake in the morning.

He closed his eyes, longing to say, Sorry, I’ve changed my mind. You’ll have to figure something else out. But it had to be him — he was the only one.

Somehow he had to pull himself together enough to do this, or else leaving Sirius and breaking both of their hearts had been for nothing.

With a deep, shaking breath, he opened his eyes.

He took a sip of water and placed the glass on the table, carefully lining it up with the edge.

“I know,” he said. “I’ll be able to.”

They spent the rest of the day going over the plan.

“The celebration will be massive,” said Alice, spreading out a map of the cathedral on the table. “They’ve got a musical program lined up, a special service — the works. None of that really concerns you, though. You won’t be arriving until just before the gate opens.”

Remus looked down at the map.

There were hundreds of rows of pews and thousands of other seats behind them, stretching up toward the ceiling.

At the very front of every- thing, near the pulpit, was a long, wide space.

“Is that where the gate’s going to be?” He asked, pointing.

“That’s right,” said Frank, his blue eyes narrowed as he studied the plans. “And there’ll be a Plexiglas barrier between the front row of pews and the gate area, across here.”

He sketched a line with his finger. “They were going to have one anyway for crowd control, but it’s a help to us — if people suspect you and get unruly, it’ll at least slow them down a little.”

Alice was holding a pen; she twiddled it in her hands. “The others in the front area with you will be the acolytes from each state — you’re going to pretend to be one, too — and the preacher, of course. The choir will be up on a second-floor balcony, so they shouldn’t be a problem. But unfortunately there will also be two angels there.”

“At least it’s only two,” said Frank before Remus could react.

He glanced at Remus. “Tom Riddle is the angel who runs the Church; he’s based in the main cathedral. He’s decided that the celebration will be for humans only and that the angels already in this world will greet the new arrivals later. Really, though, he just wants to be one of the only angels present when the Second Wavers arrive — he’s making a statement about his position here.”

“Him and his sidekick, an angel named Bellatrix Lestrange,” said Alice. “They’re pretty certain to be in the gate area along with you and the others, but hopefully you’ll be able to move fast enough that no one has time to react.”

Remus's throat felt like it had turned to dust as he stared at them. “But . . . won’t one of them notice my aura as I go in?” He asked.

He knew that angels in their human form could scan things just like Sirius if they tried, and with its silver-and-lavender lights, his aura instantly revealed what he was: half angel, half human.

With a sigh, Alice tucked a strand of her brown hair back.

“Unfortunately, that’s a variable we can’t really control,” she said. “We’ve done our best, though — our contact is going to report your death tomorrow, so hopefully neither of them will be scanning for you.”

Remus rubbed his hands on his jeans, wondering what Sirius would say about all of this. “OK,” he said finally. “What happens next?”

“The gate’s scheduled to open at six o’clock sharp,” Frank continued. “The required energy is all being generated from the other side. At about two minutes to six, a line of acolytes from every state in the country is going to file out, entering from this door here.” He pointed on the map.

“You’re Wisconsin,” said Alice.

Getting up, she went to a small closet and took out a silvery blue robe with a hood. “We didn’t know whether we’d be able to find you or not, but we had one made in your size just in case. Would you try it on to check?”

She held it out to him.

The thought of the robe already being made, sitting in a closet in Colorado waiting for him, sent goose bumps up his arms.

Reluctantly, he went over and took it from Alice; it swung slightly on its padded hanger.

When he tried it on, its material was silky-slippery, whispering its way down his body.

Alice took a step back, her eyes narrowed as she scrutinized him.

“Not bad, given that I had to guess at the measurements. A little too long, but I think it’ll be all right once we get some heeled boots on you.”

Remus stood gazing down at himself.

The robe had long sleeves and a high neck; it covered every inch of him.

He smoothed his hands down the front of it.

It felt awful, like a costume he wasn’t ever going to be able to take off.

A chill swept over him as he realized that was pretty much the case.

It was likely that he'd die in it.

“The hood was a last-minute addition, once our Church of Angels person agreed to the plan,” said Frank. “It should help stop people from recognizing you.”

“We’ll need to pull your hair back, though,” added Alice. “I’ve got some bobby pins.”

“All right,” He said.

All he wanted to do was get the thing off him. He started to pull it over his head.

“Wait a second — let’s test the angelica,” said Frank. He opened the briefcase, taking out the grayish stone.

“Yes, look,” said Alice.

Reaching inside his left sleeve, she showed him a hidden pouch with an elastic top.

Frank came over and handed her the angelica; she tucked it in.

Remus could feel the weight of it, heavy against his arm. “Can you take a few steps, so that we can see what it looks like?” asked Alice.

Remus hated this, really hated it.

But he'd agreed; he was here of his own free choice — and now he had a job to do.

He took a deep breath, then walked across the room and back.

The robe billowed about his feet.

“Good,” said Alice, watching. “The sleeve’s full enough so that you can’t see the outline of the angelica at all.”

“OK. The plan is that you’ll enter with the other acolytes, right before six o’clock,” said Frank.

He sat on the back of the sofa, one foot still resting on the ground. “There’s a dress rehearsal tonight, but you won’t be going to it; we can’t risk someone recognizing you. But what’s going to happen is simple: the acolytes will enter single file, face the wall, and kneel.”

Alice nodded. “At that point, the giant TV screen is going to be turned off. The official reason is that no one would be able to view the screen with the angels flying past, but really it’s just to give you some added security while you make the attempt, so that no one in the audience will notice your face.”

Remus felt dazed; they seemed to have thought of every detail. “And . . . what happens then?”

Alice's voice was businesslike, almost brisk. “When you kneel with the others, you’re going to be front and center: right in front of where the gate will start to open. The acolytes will all have their hands in the prayer position, so as you kneel, slip the angelica out of the pouch and hold it between your palms.” She demonstrated with her hands.

“Then keep watching the air in front of you,” said Frank. “The moment you see a faint ripple begin, that’s your signal. Materialize your angel, contact the angelica, and run forward. The gate will be twenty feet away; you’ll only have a few seconds to get to it in time.”

Dizziness washed over him. This was real; it was actually going to happen. “Maybe — maybe I’d better practice contacting the stone,” he said weakly, fingering the pouch inside his sleeve.

“Yes, we were going to suggest that,” said Alice. “Try getting it out of the pocket, too, and hiding it between your palms.”

Palming the rock was harder than he'd thought it would be.

He had to do it over and over, his fingers fumbling with the elastic, before he finally got the hang of twisting his left hand upward into the sleeve and snagging the angelica in a single motion.

At last he had done it smoothly a few times in a row.

“Good. Now pretend that you’ve seen the ripple,” said Frank.

He was sitting on the sofa, watching with his forearms propped on his knees. “Ready to try contacting the stone?”

Remus nodded. Closing his eyes, he found his angel.

He was there immediately this time, waiting for Remus; in a matter of seconds, Remus had merged with him and lifted up out of himself, hovering with wings spread.

In the same instant, Remus was aware of the stone between his human hands: it gave off a silvery aura, throbbing with life.

Remus reached toward it with his angel hand, stroking its energy with his own and sending it a wordless greeting.

As their two energies made contact, the angelica began to pulse. Remus could actually feel it beating between his palms, like a living heart.

“Perfect — when you do it tomorrow, you should activate the angelica just as you start running forward,” said Frank. “Good work, Remus.”

In his angel form, he drifted downward, folding his wings and merging with his human one.

Alone again, he stared at the stone that lay cupped in his hand.

It looked so ordinary, almost like a piece of granite.

But it could destroy a wall between worlds.

Feeling cold, Remus tucked it back into its elastic pouch.

“I think I’ll go practice on my own for a while and then go to bed,” he said.

It was almost six o’clock by then. “Is the bedroom mine?”

Frank nodded. “I’ll be sleeping on the sofa bed tonight; Alice's got another apartment down the hall.”

“Don’t you want anything to eat?” asked Alice. “We could order in some food.”

Remus shook his head. Suddenly he was desperate to be alone. “No, thanks.”

“Remus, you’ve hardly had anything all day.”

“I’m really not hungry.”

“Well, will you at least take a sandwich in with you?” she pressed.

Going into the kitchenette, she got the plate from the fridge and put a roast-beef sandwich onto a saucer for him.

“Please?” she said, holding it out.

Remus sighed as he took it, wondering what possible difference it made if he ate anything or not.

“OK. Good night.”

The bedroom was small, functional.

Remus did practice for a while, until he could snag the stone smoothly in just seconds.

Then, with relief, he pulled the robe off and draped it over a chair.

When he got dressed in his sweatpants and T-shirt again, he could feel the detachment that he'd somehow managed to find begin to falter as he thought, the last time I put these on, it was to sleep beside Sirius.

He curled up in bed, hugging the pillow tightly, the sandwich untouched on the bedside table.

Was Sirius still at the cabin, now that there was no reason to run anymore? Or had he started for Mexico on his own?

Remus stared into the darkness, his eyes prickling with tears.

Not knowing where Sirius was felt so wrong, so unnatural.

Remus wanted Sirius there beside him so badly that it felt like some vital part of him had been ripped away.

Oh, God, the look in his eyes when he told Remus to leave. . . .

Holding his pendant, he lay on his side without moving, noiseless tears streaming down his face until the pillow grew damp beneath his cheek.

He didn’t want to die. He wanted to live, to be with Sirius, to experience so much more than he had so far.

But just then, it was Sirius he was crying for.

All that he’d gone through, all those deaths of people he loved — and now he was having to experience it again, with Remus.

Thinking of what he was going through was like being beaten up inside; it was even worse than imagining whatever might happen the next day.

Part of Remus hoped that Sirius really did hate him now — maybe it would help; maybe it would make it not hurt so much.

And more than that, Remus guessed he was crying for both of them. . . that it hadn’t turned out to be always, after all.

The next day seemed endless.

Remus practiced some more.

They watched some TV, none of them really talking much.

Had lunch.

All three of them were watching the clock, Remus thought.

The plan was for them to leave for the private airfield at a quarter to five, and then take the helicopter to the Church of Angels’ cathedral.

Their contact was going to let Remus in by a back door and add him to the lineup of acolytes just before they went on.

Everyone had already been told that the Wisconsin acolyte was delayed, so hopefully no one would think anything of it.

Now that the time was actually approaching, Remus just wanted to get it over with; he wanted whatever was going to happen to happen.

He sat pressed against the sofa with his arms tight around his knees, staring unseeingly at the TV.

Remus had on the same jeans, T-shirt, and sweater as the day before; they were all he had brought.

Alice was sitting tensely in the armchair, smoking a cigarette and looking like she wasn’t paying any more attention to the show than Remus was.

In the kitchenette, Frank stood making more coffee.

The Church of Angels cathedral with its soaring domed roof came onto the screen.

Remus sat up slowly, his heart thumping.

A reporter was standing in the parking lot in front of it, his brown hair looking stiff and hair-sprayed.

“In Denver, Colorado, the angels are coming! Hundreds of thousands of devotees are currently flocking to Colorado’s capital city to be present for what they believe will be a second coming of the angels to our world. . . .”

All three of them had gone still, watching.

In the kitchen, Frank's hands slowed, the coffee forgotten.

The camera panned back, showing a solid sea of people in front of the cathedral.

Remus stared at the image, dumbfounded.

There were thousands of them. Some were wearing angel’s wings; others were waving signs: PRAISE BE TO ANGELS! And ANGELS, WE LOVE YOU!

The reporter went on, gazing right at the camera: “Though no one really understands it, in the past two years the angel phenomenon has swept the nation, with the Church of Angels the fastest growing religion in history. Devotees strongly denounce accusations of a cult. They say that the answer’s simple: to know true love, you must know the angels.”

A shining-eyed woman came onto the screen. “I paid two hundred dollars for a ticket to be here today, and that was cheap as far as I’m concerned! The angels saved my life. To have more of them here, helping others, is just a dream come true.”

Another shot appeared: long lines of traffic sitting unmoving on the highway, like gleaming metallic snakes.

The reporter’s voice said, “Heartless scam or divine intervention? Whatever the truth is, with so many people arriving, roads around Denver are currently experiencing severe gridlock — so if you can’t fly like an angel, consider staying home this Halloween!”

As the news changed to a different story, Alice glanced at him. “That’s why we’re taking the helicopter,” she said. “It’s going to be pretty insane.”

“Yeah,” Remus murmured, still staring at the screen.

He licked his lips. “Will the two of you be there, too?” He asked suddenly. “When — when I do it, I mean.”

There was a pause.

“I will be,” said Frank. “You won’t see me, but I’ll be hidden in the audience, close to the gate. If things don’t go as planned, I might be able to do something to help.”

The thought made Remus feel slightly better.

He glanced at Alice.

Without meeting his eyes, she leaned forward and tapped her cigarette ash off in a saucer.

She cleared her throat. “And I’ll be leaving in the helicopter for a safe location after we drop you off.”

“Oh,” Remus said faintly.

She gave him a quick, apologetic grimace.

“Look, Remus, I know you understand. Frank and I are the only two agents left from Project Angel; we can’t take a chance on something happening to both of us.”

Remus nodded, feeling more alone than ever.

Of course, it made sense. It made perfect, logical sense.

He opened his mouth to ask how Frank and him were supposed to get away in that case, if she was taking the helicopter . . . and then he closed it again as he realized.

Sirius had been right.

They wouldn’t be getting away, and they both knew it.

If the gate didn’t kill Remus, then the Church of Angels people would.

Frank would die, anyway, if the gate closed, so he was staying on to help — but it wasn’t very likely that he’d live out the day either, once the two angels in the cathedral got hold of him.

Neither of them were expected to survive for longer than a few more hours.

Remus had known it already; he didn't know why this made it seem so much more real.

He sat hugging himself, not speaking.

Frank sat down again, putting coffees in front of Remus and Alice.

Remus's grew cold in its cup.

On the TV, the game show turned to a soap opera and then the afternoon news.

Finally Frank looked at his watch.

“I guess we’d better start getting ready,” he said.

Alice and Remus went into the bathroom, where she pulled his fringe back off his face.

“You’ve got such beautiful hair,” she said, pinning it at the sides.

No, I love it; it’s so soft.

Remus stared at himself in the mirror, hearing Sirius's voice, feeling his hand as he stroked Remus's hair across his chest.

Remus couldn’t speak.

When Alice had finished, his head felt tight and strange.

Back in the living room, she brought out a few pairs of black wedge work boots that she’d gone out to get for him that morning.

One pair fit perfectly.

“All right?” she said, peering down at them.

“Yes, fine.”

“Do you need both of them?”

Remus shook his head.

He was starting to feel detached, almost dreamy, like a ghost of himself.

And at the same time, his heart was beating so hard that he wasn’t sure how it was managing to stay in his chest.

He kept noticing the strangest little details: the painting on the wall was crooked; Alice's coffee cup on the table had lipstick on it; Frank's bulky gray sweater had a small hole near the cuff.

“OK, then I think we’re ready,” said Frank.

Remus picked up his bag. “All right.”

How was it that he sounded so normal?

Alice took the robe and folded it over her arm; it fell in shining silvery-blue folds.

“We’ll get this on you in the helicopter,” she said. With her other hand, she picked up her briefcase with the angelica in it.

Frank put his hand on Remus's back as they left the apartment.

They walked down the hallway.

Remus's legs felt like they belonged to someone else, propelling him around with no input from him.

Closing his eyes, he briefly went within myself and found his angel, sensing his bright, loving presence, seeing the pure white flash of his wings.

Remus's arms tightened around his bag as sadness rushed through him.

He had barely gotten to know this part of himself, and now it was too late.

As they climbed into the car, it was exactly four forty-five.

In just over an hour, he'd be kneeling in front of the gate.

He touched his sweater, stroking the slight shape of the crystal pendant nestled beneath, against his skin.

I love you, Sirius, he thought. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.

He didn’t cry as they drove away.

Remus felt as if he'd never cry again