Dark Hope: Book One of the Archangel Prophecies

Dark Hope: Chapter 18

once we'd gotten outside of Las Vegas, the buildings and signs seemed to fall away, exposing the desolate desert for what it was. The more distance we put between us and the Chinese gang, the safer I felt. I rolled down the window, gulping in the dry desert air, hoping it would overpower the pain that was reasserting itself so vigorously. 

We went past at least ten outpost towns, identical in all but name. I rejected each of them, having a vague sense that we would be found there, that we would stand out from all the other desert travelers moving through. But with the gas gauge pushing empty and my nerves spent, we finally gave in and pulled into a tiny mom-and pop-motel right off the interstate. A quick search of the glove compartment had turned up a credit card emblazoned with my name, another surprise gift from Michael, no doubt. The night clerk gave us a hard look, but he grudgingly gave us the keys to a room with a view of the interstate after I had fished the credit card out of my pocket to present to him. 

Once we were settled in the room, I edged over to sit on top of the air conditioning unit, one eye peeking through the curtains to watch the road. Maria and Jimena eyed me nervously. They had been curiously quiet since we'd left Las Vegas. 

"I think we lost them for good," I smiled, turning back to them, the effort stretching my skin and setting every nerve ending on fire. They were staring at me in earnest now. I looked down and saw how bedraggled my bandages were, and I realized how I must look to them. A wave of fatigue washed over me again. 

I started to stand, and Jimena flinched as if she was afraid of me. I froze. Slowly, I eased back into my perch. 

"What's wrong?" I asked, suddenly aware of how uneasy they both seemed. 

Jimena began speaking, her child's voice soft and slow as she looked at me with wonder. The Spanish words flowed together, gaining speed and volume as she spilled out what was on her mind, her eyes growing wider and wider. 

I looked at Maria, raising my eyebrows and waiting. 

"She thinks she saw an angel," Maria said simply. "We both do." 

I sighed. "Back in Las Vegas?" 

"Yes," Maria said. "On the cars, fighting the men who captured us. Was that your friend?" 

I paused. They had been through so much already. I didn't have the heart or the energy to lie to them, so I just nodded mutely. 

"That's how you found us?" 

I nodded again. 

They sat, stunned. 

I leaned back into the window, the coolness of the glass giving me some relief. I closed my eyes, struggling to stay awake. 

"My mother believed in angels," Maria whispered. "Maybe she sent him to help us." 

I smiled, my eyes still shut, as I pondered that idea. It was much more pleasant than the reality I faced. 

"Maybe she did," I agreed. 

"Will he come here?" Maria asked urgently. "To find us?" 

I opened my eyes, knowing we needed some sort of plan. We couldn't stay here forever. I thought through what was likely to happen back in Las Vegas: the throngs of emergency personnel, the minute investigation of the crash scene. None of it would matter to Michael, of course. He would simply evaporate into thin air, using that sixth sense of his to find us. 

"Yes, I'm sure he will come to us. We just need to wait here for him. Maybe we can rest." I gestured to the two small beds that took up most of the room, eyeing them doubtfully.