heartbeat // zayn malik AU

chapter twenty-seven

"If you ever feel alone--don't.

You were never on your own."

- One Direction [Don't Forget Where You Belong]

By the time we reached Collague, both Zayn and I were freezing. He wrapped one arm around my waist as we stumbled down the street towards Marge's house. "Marge knows everyone in town," Zayn had promised. "If anyone can help us find Lucas Sawyer, it's her."

I merely nodded in response. 

"Are you scared?" Zayn asked. It wasn't teasing or taunting in the slightest. I forced myself to meet his amber gaze, which was kind of a mistake, because it was kind of freaking gorgeous.

Now was not the time to be getting weak-kneed over his eyes. Not when we were the angels' only hope of securing the Infinity Sword and gaining a chance at ever defeating Klaus. Stupid hormones; it was all their fault.

We reached the little cottage, and Zayn led the way up the steps, ringing the doorbell once. It took a little while before we heard shuffling from inside. The door swung open slowly, revealing Marge; her brown hair was yanked up into a sloppy bun, and she was wearing a baggy maroon sweater that made her look even smaller than usual.

I had never been more relieved to see anyone in my life.

Almost on impulse, I stepped forward and wrapped both arms around her. If she was shocked to see us, she didn't let on, only hugged me back even tighter. "Valarie," she whispered with surprising tenderness in her own voice. "Zayn. You guys are safe."

Never had an adult seemed to care so much about my well-being--certainly never my parents. I felt the ridiculous urge to cry. 

"It's great to see you again, Marge," Zayn said, taking his turn to hug her. I stifled a laugh at how she had to go up on her tip-toes to reach his cheek and kiss it. "Listen, I don't mean to be rude or anything, but we sort of need your help. It's really important. Can you get us in touch with Jack's father?"

"Lucas Sawyer?" Marge said with a puzzled frown. "What do you need him for?" 

The way she said it made me think that no one ever needed or wanted Lucas Sawyer for anything. I wondered what kind of a man he was. 

"He has something we need," Zayn mumbled evasively.

I nudged him, whispering, "Can't we tell her?"

He shook his head and leaned down so that only I could hear him, his minty breath brushing my ear. "I don't want to put her in danger by telling her more than she needs to know."

I gave him a jerk of my chin, seeing his point.

"Okay," Marge said, evidently trusting us. "Lucas Sawyer is actually here right now. He's upstairs."

Puzzled, I tilted my head to the side. "He is? What for?"

Zayn looked suspicious. "What is he doing here?" he demanded.

Marge finally stepped back and allowed us to enter the house, letting out a tired sigh. "See for yourself," she muttered, leading the way up the stairs. Zayn and I tagged along behind her, our shoes clunking on the wooden steps. If Marge minded that we hadn't taken them off, she didn't say anything; she seemed too preoccupied.

As we reached the foyer of the second floor, a familiar stench hit my nostrils. It took me a moment to recognize it, and when I did, I halted in my tracks.

"The plague," I whispered, fumbling for Zayn's hand. "It's here, too."

"Yeah," Marge said. "And unlike big cities like Charoum, we don't have an angel hospital. We've never needed one. So every angel that isn't sick, like me, has opened up their house for the ill. Unfortunately, it's really not doing much good at all." Her eyes darkened with despair, and my heart twisted in sympathy for her. I couldn't imagine how horrible it had been for her, struggling to care for her dying comrades with no idea of what she could do for them. "The problem is," she continued, "no one has a cure. I don't even know if there is one. So angels keep getting sicker and sicker, till one by one, they die. All I can do is try to keep them as comfortable as possible in their last days."