An Angel's Crusade (An Angel's Wings Sequel)

Chapter Twelve: A Warning

Kinsley

Naomi's face was in her mind all the way back to the camp.

How could Owen have allowed Mateo to execute her? She was his friend and for her to die for his failed mission?

As much as Owen disgusted her, she couldn't help but feel responsible. He failed the mission because she helped save Iris. If it wasn't for her, Naomi would still be alive. Maybe her friend would have been with her and they could have faced Mateo together.

Kinsley spots the camp from above about a mile away.

What is she going to say? How is she going to get them to agree not to attack the Dark Angels?

Damnit, she should have thought this through.

She aims down and dives to the trees. She lands softly but doesn't walk toward the camp. Instead, she leans against a tree.

A plan. She needs a plan before she waltzes in there and causes chaos. How can she get the White Angels to agree that a war is better than a slaughter? That a victory fought rather than a butcher is the better way to go?

This is impossible!

Jayden probably won't be able to get the Dark Angels to understand either, so what is the point? No general or rebel leader is going to go with a plan that will put their soldier's lives at a higher risk.

Then an idea pops into her head.

If both are expecting an attack or both are planning an attack, perhaps that is the only way for it to be fair. That'll be the closest to a fair war as she can get.

Kinsley exhales and closes her eyes.

How had it gotten this way? Why had someone decided that different colored wings mattered? Either way, they had wings and they were already different from the majority. They had only made it worse by causing a civil war between the winged-species, and now their descendants are carrying out their plans.

She shakes her head. The past doesn't matter. What matters is that she gets to the White Angels. Who knows how close the Dark Angel camp was when she was spotted by Jayden and the scouts.

She pushes off the tree and makes a mild jog toward the camp.

She spots the lookout in the tree before the White Angel sees her. Would he recognize her? Or would he fight her first and cause an alarm throughout the camp? If only she could get a hold of the rebel who interrogated her. As much of an asshole as he was he had cleared her, and that made him somewhat of an ally.

She takes a deep breath. This would be a perfect time to say a short prayer if she believed in God, but what could he do? What type of god allows a fourteen-year-old kid to die a slow meaningless death? No god she'd like to serve.

It takes a few more steps than it should have for the White Angel to notice her. She could have flown up to him and impaled her sword through his neck before he would have a chance to even know what happened, but instead she raised her hands in surrender and allowed him to call for backup and point his ridiculously painted sword.

"What the hell are you doing?" he asks, fear and confusion shadowing every word. "What the hell is this?"

Kinsley almost laughs. This is their guard? The rebel couldn't be older than her, but his age isn't the problem. He's wearing a ratty black shirt, some unknown band on the front. Blood's Revenge. Maybe it was his band? No normal person would give their band that name. He's also wearing a pair of stained, dirty kakis. His sword, though, is what really wraps it all up. It's painted red. The blade: red with black specks. The hilt: black and chipping. It's as if the kid decided to spray his sword with cheap, knock-off spray paint.

"Who are you?" the kid asks.

"My arms are getting tired, so I'm going to put them down, but relax, if I wanted to kill you, you'd already be dead." She puts her arms to her sides and Garage-Band kid raises his sword higher.

"That's what they always say," the kid says shakenly. "And then they kill the person."

Kinsley rolls her eyes. "What movies do you watch? They never kill the person when they say that. The person decides to trust them, jeez, you're a buzzkill."

The kid just looks more confused, but is given a break when his backup arrives.

About twenty White Angels arrive and surround her, coming in from the trees around and above.

Kinsley calmly surveys the group, half taking count and half looking for her former interrogator. She doesn't see him.

Hopefully one of the rebels will recognize her, otherwise she is going to be in trouble.

"What are you doing back here?" a voice cuts through the nervous tension of the group.

Kinsley turns to the source of the voice and immediately recognizes the White Angel.

"I need to speak with your leader," Kinsley responds cautiously. She wants to sound urgent, but not nervous.

The rebel with the espresso colored hair stares at her with dark brown eyes that were calculating and absorbing.

Kinsley quickly takes not of him; he'll be someone to keep an eye on.

"What do you want to talk to him about?" the rebel asks still examining her.

Kinsley keeps her eyes to his stare. "I will only talk to your leader." When he doesn't answer she decides to play her interrogator card. "Go get Aiden. He's the one who cleared me. He'll tell you that I'm no threat to any of you."

The rebel narrows his eyes. "Aiden's not here. He left with Miss Cooper."

Damnit. Iris is gone. Maybe that's a good thing.

"Look, you can take my sword, you can check me for more weapons, you can stand guard while I talk to him, but nevertheless, I need to speak with your leader." She breaks her eye contact and addresses the whole group. "All of your lives could depend on it."

That gets a few nervous shifts.

The head rebel narrows his eyes again and Kinsley can tell that he's going through ever option, weighing all of the possibilities.

At last, he nods. "Fine, but if he doesn't want to meet with you, you're leaving."

Kinsley nods. "You'd better hope he wants to meet with me."

He glares at her, his eyes almost black. "Is that a threat?"

Kinsley meets his resentment, unintimidated. "A warning."