Now Moriah glides toward Simon, parting the crowd of angels. The cobra, Hanachesh, keeps its eyes on Dez as Moriah places herself between Simon and Jet, the way a priest might at a wedding.
“Welcome to your ascension, Simon.”
The angels say in unison:“Tibi gratulor in ascensionem tuam, Simeone.”
The room whistles and applauds. Tentatively, Dez joins in, though she wishes she could catch Simon’s eye. She can’t tell how he’s feeling. He’s smiling, but his face is ghastly white.
“You are about to partake in an ancient ceremony,” Moriah announces, “made famous by my ancestor, Enoch, the first person to ascend from the mortal to the angelic plane. Genesis 5:21 notes the event when Enoch was plucked by the divine and transmuted—of course it leaves out the relevant details, as was the habit of the men who compiled the Bible. But through secret texts passed down across the millennia, we have refined the ascension experience into something infallible”—she pauses—“and unforgettable.”
Simon’s eyes find Dez. They widen briefly, hisWTFexpression. Dez shakes her head.No idea.
“Simon,” Moriah says, “you are the first in your class to ascend. You have fulfilled your initial White Light scriptwriting. Your mentor Jet attests to your achievement. Do you wish to ascend?”
Simon smiles. “I do.”
“Angels?” Moriah says, as across the room, the crowd parts, revealing a large, rectangular iron structure about the size of a dumpster. As the angels wheel the contraption forward, there’s a sudden increase in temperature in the room.
“What is that?” she asks Rafe.
“A crematorium, once upon a time.”
“Rafe,” Dez says, voice trembling. “What are they doing with it?”
“Inside,” the director says, patting the side of the metal structure, “are the ashes of a former angel’s wings. When you’re ready, Simon, we will open the doors. You will enter. The ash will find you and fuse with your soul. Throughout the process, Jet will see to it you’re comfortable. When complete, you’ll come out the other side.”
“He’ll be incinerated,” Dez whispers.
“He’ll be an angel,” Rafe corrects.
Dez’s heart pounds with the wrongness of everything she’s just seen and heard, but Simon looks peaceful, even dreamy. Did they drug him? Why isn’t he worried?
“Rafe, I’m scared. What if—”
“It will hurt him for an instant,” Rafe explains, “but the pain is purifying. It will vanish just as Simon’s brain registers it. And then, before you know it, he’ll be on the other side.”
Dez’s heart races out of control. Simon’s about to enter into immortality. He’s about to become an angel. He’s doing what they’re all here to do, but Dez can’t fathom it.
It’s too big.
Too impossible.
The doors of the crematorium swing open with a mighty metalclank. A blast of blazing wind slaps Dez’s face as she beholds the fire inside. It’s white and blistering, terrifying. The sound it makes is a piercing and bottomless roar.
Simon stumbles backward.
“This is a mental game, Simon,” Jet shouts over the sound of the fire. Then he marches into the crematorium and disappears in the white-hot blaze.
Simon takes a halting step forward, blocking his face with his hands.
Tears stream down Dez’s cheeks. She shields her face with one arm, takes hold of Rafe with the other. Her fingers feel like they’re about to melt. The heat engulfs her, engulfs the whole room, growing more intense.
Simon approaches the chamber of fire, the one designed to incinerate human bones. He stops. Inhales. Then takes a running start.
The door slams closed behind him.
Dez screams. It must be over a thousand degrees in there. The fire will roast his bones, and they’ve just closed the doors on him. What’s wrong with this place? What’s wrong with Dez for standing here and letting this happen?
A deep moan sounds from inside. Not a scream, exactly, but a disquieting, rhythmic noise of someone struggling. It sounds like Simon’s being beaten.
