Page 104 of Sorrow & Strangers

“I miss him,” she whispers, our heads resting against each other’s.

“Idiot that he is.” I chuckle sadly.

I hear a soft hum, like a phone alert on silent, and I feel her hand vibrate in mine.

“You’re not an idiot, big guy,” she says, brushing the fingers of her free hand over the halo on her wrist.

I lift my head, my attention sharpening. Is he speaking to her? Through the halo?

“Does he . . . ?” I can’t really voice the possibility. It’s too much to hope that a small part of him lives on in this realm, even if it’s only an echo of him speaking through the halo. Halos of dead angels are never worn by others after the angel passes over to work for Azrael, the Archangel of Death, and one of the Seven. Summer wearing Connor’s is a unique opportunity for us to learn more about the halos and their connections to their angels.

“He can communicate with me.”

Absently, I touch the black scar on my wrist where my halo burned to ash during the Fall from Eden. I don’t have to sever my hand to know that no matter how many times I regenerate, that scar will reappear each and every time. It is a mark of the Fallen, a symbol of the choice I made.

“Do you want to ask him something?” she asks, letting go of my hand to hold out her wrist, the golden halo shining on it.

“He won’t hear me.” Why would a dead angel answer a demon?

Why would Connor want to talk to me? It’s my fault.

“He heard you call him stupid.” The halo hums on her wrist again, taunting me. “And he didn’t appreciate it.”

“Maybe another time,” I say, glancing away.

I can’t. I can’t touch the halo and have it remain silent. There is no way I could handle his silence, even knowing I deserve it.

“Okay.” She eases her hand away, maybe sensing how close I am to breaking.

“It was in Hell,” I whisper, the words coming out by way of explanation and justification. “When he saved me.” Summer’s breath catches, and I know without words she’s started to connect the dots of why I flew off the handle about her going there earlier. “I know why you went because . . .”

I rub the mark on my wrist absently, and Summer covers my hand. That is another thing about Summer and me. We can communicate without words. I stand slowly.

“Rafe?” she whispers, making me pause. “I love you, and so does Con.”

Giving her my back, I head for the door, hiding my expression and the tremble in my hands.

“You too, Sum. Don’t be an idiot.”

Chapter Fifty-Two

Summer

After what feels like the longest day that I’ve ever experienced, I finally shower and crawl into bed. I pull the covers over my head, using them as a shield against my reality, the emotions, and the numbing exhaustion.

My head aches, and my eyes sting, but I’m too drained even to cry. The halo hums comfortingly, and I shift to lie on my side, brushing my fingers over the warm metal. It glows faintly, illuminating my safe haven beneath the covers in a warm glow. I can almost hear Connor asking me what’s wrong, but I don’t even know where to start.

“I’m directionless. Lost,” I finally whisper, answering the unspoken question.

“How?” I’m not sure how I understand the hums from the halo, but it’s almost like our connection gives me a direct channel to Connor and what he’s trying to say. Our own language that doesn’t just cross realms but spans the veil of life and death.

“I just am.”

The halo hums, mimicking Connor’s huff of amusement.

I pull a pillow under the blankets and curl around it. Closing my eyes, I concentrate, hoping I might be able to draw on the memory of being in Connor’s arms. Maybe if I focus, I will be able to feel his warmth seeping into me.

The halo hums again.