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He crosses his arms. “You first.”
Goddamn him to hell.
Then I remember that’s my job.
Leaning heavily on the cane, I rise to my feet. Movement awakens fresh agony, and then Cole is rushing to me. I tear away from him before he can touch me.
“Open the window.”
He does as I say, then waits again. He’s shivering enough to shatter his bones, but he stands his ground.
“I’m going, I’m going,” I say irritably, then level a finger at him. “But you get into a hot shower immediately before you catch the winter fever.”
Before he can reply, I dissolve into my anicorpus. The agony I’d been enduring for days vanishes but all I see is him. There are a hundred Coles seen through a hundred pairs of beetle eyes, all radiating the same stoic goodness, making him more handsome. Beautiful.
I swarm out of the window and into the night.
For long moments, I fly with no purpose or aim. I need to Cross Over to make the healing complete, but the last thing I need is Asmodai sensing my presence. He’ll smell my weakness instantly.
A hundred wings flit in irritation. Iburnedand yet that weakness refuses to die. Why?
Hope, mein Schatz.
The thought—and the feminine voice that carries it—makes no sense, but the word lingers in my mind like an echo. There is no hope for me, and yet…
Casziel escaped.
He had the help of an angel. I have no angels.
I know because I looked. There is no kindly ancestor watching over me, not on This Side or the Other. Not even in death, have I known love. That pain swells brighter than the burning oil. I don’twantto escape, I remind myself, and put myself back at the mercy of humans.
And yet…
Time on the Other Side is a nebulous thing. Angels can flit back and forth to anywhen, but demonkind are restricted. We entice humans to dwell on past failures and pain and make that misery feel unending. We’re not permitted to see the future.
The future contains hope.
That damnable word again.
But I can Cross Over into the past and hide in thewhenbefore Ashtaroth met his unfortunate end. My liege lord will not think to look for me there, as I haven’t yet betrayed our dark cause.
The hundred parts of me pause at the thought. I am admitting it; I was a traitor. I helped defeat Ashtaroth because Casziel was heading for Oblivion, and I wanted to save him. Because he loved Lucy Dennings, and I wanted him to have what he loved.
Because you lovedhim. Ah, do you see? It is not dead in you.
I hiss in a swarm.Be silent, Eisheth!
I don’t know why the demonwitch is taunting me in this manner, but I escape to the Other Side, passing through the Veil and reforming in my demonic self. The pain of the burning oil is now a memory—when I next take human form, my body will be as perfect and flawless as ever, such is our power. Why would I ever give that up?
On the Other Side,whenis a suspended collection of moments defined by the human timeline chugging along on the opposite side of the Veil. I peer through it and note with a heaviness that I’ve returned to thewhenin which the demon Casziel is arguing with an angel, Lucy’s father.
Casziel sits hunched on the ground of the back lot behind Lucy’s tiny apartment in New York City, his skin pale in the moonlight, black eyes and immense feathered wings black as onyx. Her father is dressed in a trench coat and hat. His white-blue light is blinding to my damned eyes. I focus on Casziel instead, bent and miserable, tormented by his enduring love for a human that has spanned hundreds of her lifetimes.
Casziel snarls at the angel. “Tell your god, then, I’m waiting for my absolution.” He rises and throws his arms and wings to the sky. “Well? Here I am. I’m ready.”
I know what happens, but my breath catches anyway.
Nothing.
