Rebel Angels (Gemma Doyle #2)

"Gemma!" Ann yelps. They are in the tunnel with us. I can hear them closing fast.

"Keep moving!" I shout.

The tunnel takes a sharp turn. Suddenly, I see it up ahead--an opening, and beyond that, the gray haze of fog. With an urgent burst of speed, we rush out into the thick air, breathing in deep gulps. We're on the shore.

"There's the boat," Felicity screams. It's sitting where we left it. Ann scrambles in and picks up the oars as Felicity and I push the

boat away from the shore, wading into the murky water as we do. With effort, we climb in.

The birds come in a great black swarm of screeching.

Ann and I paddle against the current while Felicity takes aim against those terrible winged things. I close my eyes and row for all I am worth, hearing the sound of that awful cawing and Felicity's arrows slicing the air.

Something bumps the boat.

"What was that?" Ann asks.

"I don't know," I say, opening my eyes. I look around but see nothing.

"Keep rowing!" Felicity instructs, letting fly. Birds fall from the sky. They change into men and sink below the water.

"They're going back!" Felicity screams."They're leaving!" We give a cheer. Ann's oar is yanked from her hand. The boat is bumped so hard that we shake upon the water.

"What's happening?" Ann says, terrified.

With a great push, the rowboat goes over and we are pitched into the murky moat. I come up sputtering, wiping the water from my eyes with my fingers.

"Felicity! Ann!" I shout. There is no answer. I call out louder."Felicity!"

"Here!" She pops up, sputtering beside me."Where is Ann?"

"Ann!" I scream her name again."Ann!"

Her blue hair ribbon floats upon the water, abandoned. Ann is gone, and all we see is the oily sheen of the water nymphs.

"Ann!"

We scream until we're hoarse.

Felicity dives under, comes up again."They've got her." Wet and shaking, we stumble onto dry land. In the distance, the hollow windows of the cathedral wink at me. The magical glamour cast off, it has reverted to its true self, a grand ruin. I put my head on my knees, coughing.

Felicity's crying. "Fee," I say, putting my hand on her back. "We're going to find her. I promise. It won't be like ..." It won't be like Pippa.

"He shouldn't have said those things to me," she says in great hiccupping cries."He shouldn't have said them."

It takes me a moment to realize that she is talking about Azreal and what happened in the catacombs. I think of her standing on that rock, piercing our tormentor with her arrow. "You mustn't be sorry for what you did."

She looks into my face, her sobs subsiding to a cold, tearless fury. She hoists the nearly empty quiver onto her shoulder.

"I'm not." The walk back to the garden is long and hard. Soon I recognize the jungle growth of the place where we met the girls from the factory fire.

"We're close," I say. I can hear the factory girls talking.

"Where are we going?" one of the girls asks.

"With Bessie's friends. They know a place where we can be whole again," the other answers.

I pull Felicity down. We're crouched low behind a large fern. Now I see them. The three girls in white, the ones from my vision--they're leading the girls away from this spot in the jungle toward a direction we haven't yet been. They will lead you astray

with false promises. . . .

Nell was right. Whoever these girls once were, they are dark spirits now, in league with Circe.

"Where are they going?" Felicity whispers.

"The Winterlands, I fear," I say.

"Should we stop them?" Felicity asks.

I shake my head. "We have to let them go. We have to save Ann, if possible."

Felicity nods. It seems a terrible choice, but it is made. And so we watch them go, some of them holding hands, some singing, all on their way to certain doom.

CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

BY THE TIME WE REACH THE FAMILIAR ORANGE sunset of the garden, the silent, miserable walk in our soggy boots has worn blisters on our heels. They pinch and bite with each step. But I can't think about that now. We've got to save Ann--if she is still alive.

"Gracious, what happened to you?" It's Pippa. The blood has been washed from her cheeks. She no longer looks frightful but calm and beautiful.

"We've no time to explain," I say. "The water nymphs have Ann. We've got to find them."

"Of course, you wouldn't leave Ann," Pippa mutters. I let it go. "I told you not to come to me for help."