Page 33 of Where the Light No Longer Follows

“You closed me up here on purpose,” she said, her voice low like a bewitching spell to Gabriel’s ears.

“So evil, aren’t I?” he asked, bracing an elbow on the seat rest and leaning closer to her, just looking at her and marvelling at the colours her hazel eyes took from the setting sun behind them. “I’d do terrible, terrible things to have you this close all the time.”

Those eyes paced between his, and her hands curled over the fabric of her skirt. “Selfish God.”

“Pretty Reaper,” he hummed, bringing a finger just under her chin and watching her shiver when he ghosted it up and down her jaw.

Her honey voice was low, almost a whisper, “Fool.”

“I am. What else? Tell me what else?”

She swallowed, looking away and making his heart race with so much anguish. “I want to try the spinning thing. With the animals.”

There were rides after rides after that. Most of which she hated beside the carousel and the ferris wheel.

“I'll take it back,” she said, nibbling on some cotton candy and licking her fingers, a massive bear tucked under her arm. “I don’t see why humans would want to do all this before they die.”

He stole some of her cotton candy. “Not enjoying it?”

“It was a nauseating experience. I don't know why anyone would enjoy the need to feel sick and dizzy. The most thrilling part of it all was the contemplation of whether I was going to hurl at you or not after that last spin.”

Gabriel chuckled. “How about I take you down to the sea?

He knew he’d said the right thing when her face lit up.

Sat at the edge of a cliff overlooking the ocean, he watched Silene in his leather jacket that had swallowed her limbs entirely, eyes closed, the smallest of smiles lingering on her face as she let the sea wind beat at her, carrying her long, silky hair in dark waves. “I love the wind,” she said. “I think I do. I don’t really remember even regarding it before.”

Gabriel didn’t speak. Not a single word. He didn’t wish to ruin this memory of her, the first thing so close to what humans called a religious experience.

With a sigh, she laid on her side, resting her head on the bear toy and facing him, curled onto herself on the grey rock they’d perched on to witness the new turn of day. Her lashes fluttered slowly, almost lulled by sleep, but she seemed to refuse to give in.

No colour had ever mattered to Gabriel. Colours were just colours.

But her eyes. Oh, her eyes.

The moment he’d looked into them long ago, every existing thing had held a breath with him in acquiescence. He was sure nothing to ever graze any realm, space and nook in the vast universe could replicate that very same colour. He remembered the very first thoughts that had crossed his mind back then. That he wanted to bottle it, to make it an elixir for the unexplainable heartache it had given him.

She lifted a hand up, her shadow on the ground mimicking her as she made nonsensical shapes with her fingers that had her grinning from ear to ear and her eyes glowing with such fascination that Gabriel could not understand.

Her smile suddenly fell, and he turned to look at what had been at fault. Her shadow was touching his. The tip of her finger traced his silhouette on the stone. “You’re the only thing that doesn’t die by my touch.”

He lifted a hand, letting the cast of its shadow graze hers, the tips of their fingers meeting. “And you’re the only thing that dies by mine.”

Silene took one long breath and tucked her hands to her stomach. “Maybe you should take me back now.”

“Maybe I should keep you for myself.”

“I’m not yours to keep.”

“Who’d stop me?”

Gabriel knew he’d won whatever battle fates had started years ago when she thought about it for a minute. “Azriel.”

His smile was uncontainable. “Does that mean you’re up for keeps if he didn’t exist?”

“That sounded like a very vague threat to your brother.”

“It was.”