Behind closed lids, Asher’s eyes twitch rapidly. His heart has stopped, but his mind’s still working, receiving the film. She wishes she’d been the one to make it, but she’s glad at least he’s getting closure, peace, the story of his lovely, too-brief life.
She thinks of all the familiar scenes in Asher’s Lifeline. His family,his work, the way he can fly on his skateboard, how much he loved to watch the sun sink into the sea at dusk.
“I love you, Asher,” she tells him, holding fast to his hand. “If I’d had the chance, I know I’d love you more with each day.” She brings his hand to her chest, clutching it in hers.
And then …
She feels it. Pressure in her palm that wasn’t there before.
Asher—squeezing her hand. Sending a signal.
Pulse. Pulsepulse. Pulse.
His hazel eyes shoot open. He stares at her like he’s just seen the cosmos. Like he knows the ultimate truth. Like she’s the last real thing left in the world.
“Desdemona,” he says with the conviction of a soulmate.
And then the whole world goes black.
THE NEXT THING DEZ KNOWS, she’s sitting in a wood-paneled booth at a restaurant facing the sea. The moon is high, the stars are bright, the waves a swish of silver on the shore outside her window. Her hands grip a steaming mug of coffee as she looks up, startled to find a stranger across the table from her.
He looks a few years older than her, wears a leather jacket over a white T-shirt, and has curly russet hair. He’s sketching something on a napkin, hardly seeming to notice her.
“How did I get here?” The words rush from her mouth. Only a moment ago she was with Rafe and Asher, trapped in an unholy ring of fire.
“Heaven must be running out of angels if you’re down here,” says the guy across from her.
“Who are you?” Dez demands.
“That line never works.” He shakes his head, dismayed.
What happened to Asher? Where is he? Where isshe? How did they get separated when Dez swore she wouldn’t leave him? Was anyof it real? From this distance, at this ordinary restaurant, wherever she is, what she remembers from the hiking trail seems impossible.
But then, looking down, she notices the smoke stains on her shirt. From the ring of fire Rafe ignited when he landed on the trail.
“You actually love him,” says the man with the russet hair. “This Asher person?”
“I … I …” Dez stammers. The man is looking at her strangely, with an intense curiosity, as if he truly wants the answer. What does he know about Asher? She closes her eyes, waiting to feel ashamed for kissing Rafe with Asher dying by her side. She takes a sip of coffee and swishes it around her mouth, trying to remove all traces of that kiss.
She thinks of what she said to Asher at the end, after his memories of her had been wiped clean. She couldn’t help telling him she loved him.
And then … that shocking final moment when he opened his eyes and said her name.
“He was dead—” Dez whispers.
“He was,” the man says, and laughs. “So, you told him the truth? Seems a little late to do it.”
Dez realizes the man is familiar. She’s seen him before. Nothimexactly, but his portrait. Hanging on the Vault’s wall.
“You’re Samael.”
Without looking up from his sketch on the napkin, he nods.
A server buzzes by, holding a tray of platters piled high with fish and chips. Tourists walk in through the front door, wiping sand from the backs of their legs. The speaker in the corner’s playing Tom Petty’s “Learning to Fly.”
And Dez sits across the table from the angel who made the films for Adam and Eve.
“Angel of Death,” she says.
