The City of Broken Angels: Queen Versus the Machine (Carmine Book 2) by Alan Janney

The City of Broken Angels: Queen Versus the Machine (Carmine Book 2) by Alan Janney

Author:Alan Janney [Janney, Alan]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Sparkle Press
Published: 2017-04-09T16:00:00+00:00


- 3 -

Carmine

Tank will live. His wounds are many but not grievous. I Feel his health.

I Feel them all. They hurt, I hurt. They rejoice, and so do I. My head is buzzing even though I force them out but one cannot hold back the ocean. If I close my eyes I can even see what their eyes see, thousands of view points. Hands clutch me, and for the brief moment the world fades.

Los Angeles is gone. Time collapses. I’m in a black room, a dark chamber far away. A woman with blue eyes watches me. I can’t hear. I can’t move.

Yes, she mouthes. Yes. Very good, she says.

What is this…

She touches my face and I feel her finger.

No, I say, and suddenly I return. The solid world resurfaces, hallucination evaporated. Once more I smell gunpowder and hear laughter and crying, and I’m sweating. I force the Guardians and connections out of my mind with a tremendous act of willpower. Like shoving boulders. I would be overwhelmed and crushed without Saul’s training.

I select a home in Chatsworth as an improvised headquarters, several miles west of the military’s ineffective barricade on Interstate 5. The house is like a vast estate from a fairy tale; Cinderella could have lived here, a thought which brings me a small amount of pleasure.

The homeowners are survivalists, and they lovingly maintain their residence. As we arrive, they rush from their basement shelter to help move our wounded. They are a handsome Portuguese couple and both husband and wife are physicians. An unexpected blessing. The rooms are high-ceilinged and richly furnished, and the dark hardwood floors gleam. Manoel helps Dalton walk Tank inside to a king mattress, and he sets to disinfecting and cleaning the wounds. His wife, Jovita, acts as a point of triage, sending injured Variants to specified corners of their grand home.

I love this place. I want to live here. Forever. So many bookshelves.

Not now, Katie.

The Outlaw and Saul have a fascinating and intense greeting. They seek each other out and grasp hands, a handshake which lasts and lasts, each searching the other’s face. Chase says, “Zealot. Thank you.”

“Outlaw. So it’s true. I feel it.” His voice is faint and wondrous. “You have a gravity. No wonder they hate you.”

“My natural charm.”

“We will talk later. We must. I can find you with closed eyes,” Saul says, and he turns to me. “Little Carmine. You did it again.”

“I didn’t intend to, Saul,” I snap. “I got mad and they connected to me without asking first. Besides, it worked.”

“And had you died? So would they. Learn to protect yourself, for the sake of us all.” But he smiles and leaves to tend the wounded. The Variants are suspicious of him and angry until he lays hands on their skin. Just a touch, and they quiet. His hands are medicine.

Chase. I could look at him all night. In a grimy world of shattered hope and gloom, he shines like the sun. He watches me like I’ll vanish if he’s not careful.



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