A week had passed. A full week, and he still expected to see her.
For years, Colin had been letting himself into Sera’s house. It was natural—habit. He’d tried to remove her key from his keychain once, but the thing felt too damn awkward without that smidgeon of extra weight. Now, that key was a lifeline. Proof to him and the universe that Sera had existed. That she had lived.
The home she’d built for herself, despite her predictions, remained intact. Her name was still on her checks, her things were where she’d left them. He’d called her folks, and they answered like they always did. Treating him as an extension of the family, asking if Sera needed anything, the usual.
Colin’s eyes had filled with tears, and he’d barely managed to disconnect the call before breaking down.
No. Sera didn’t need anything.
Sera was gone.
Yet she was still in her space. Every inch of her home felt lived in. The air carried her smell. Her things were strewn haphazardly. Mail on the kitchen table. A novel remained tented on the couch, open from where she’d placed it the last time she’d sat there.
She’d been reading Gone Girl. The title seemed to mock him.
Colin didn’t know where to go. Her home was the only place he could consider—the only place that felt right.
In the days since Sera had disappeared behind the wall of flame—since the portal had closed with him standing on the wrong side—his mindset had waffled between alertness and fugue. He didn’t recall leaving the carnival. He didn’t even remember leaving the Hall of Horrors. In his memory sat a gaping hole bridging the space between watching the woman he love dive into Hell and waking up in his own bed. He assumed he’d driven himself, since he’d found his Ford in the garage.
He’d also found his cell phone on the kitchen counter. Odd. He hadn’t even realized, the entire time they’d been gone, that he hadn’t had it on him. But then, who in the world would he have called?
Well, his boss, for one. Judging by the number of voicemails, missed calls, and angry text messages, the only reason he had to go into work was to collect his things. That was just fine. Colin didn’t much feel like dedicating time to All the Above anymore. Writing stories about monsters wasn’t entertaining after having discovered monsters were real.
After having lost Sera because of it.
Sera. She was everywhere. In the air. In the rooms. In the paintings he found in her studio. Several evocative masterpieces she’d never taken to the gallery, and one that sat half-finished on an easel. The canvas was hard to look at, complete with vibrant colors, bold brush strokes, and a resounding sense of longing and defeat. Colin had always enjoyed Sera’s art the way only a layman could, but he’d struggled to put his reactions into words. He’d feel something when he viewed her creations, but verbalizing those sensations, even as a writer, had been a struggle.
One look at her unfinished work, and he’d burst into tears.
It was loss.
It was Hell.
It was over.
And yet, he couldn’t stop torturing himself. Sera’s home was the only place he felt he could gather his thoughts. The only place where breathing didn’t seem so difficult. It was the only way he could be close to her. So he returned the next day, and the next day, and the day after. He’d awaken from a restless night’s sleep, his throat raw, and make the short walk to Sera’s home. He wouldn’t calm until he stepped into her space, until he had her in his nostrils, throat, and lungs.
Still, he couldn’t bring himself to stay past dark. He didn’t want to be here when she didn’t walk through the door after work. He didn’t want to sleep in her bed and wake up alone. Sera had always been all sunshine. At night, in her home, Colin no longer felt welcome.
It was the seventh day since she’d jumped when Colin found himself again on Sera’s doorstep, digging into his pocket for her house key, and sensed something was wrong. The air, even on his side of the door, felt different. Compromised.
His heart jumped into his throat, and he forced his shaking hands to negotiate the lock. He pushed the door open and all but shoved himself across the threshold.
Sitting on the couch, on the very spot Colin had claimed each day this past week, was a woman. A drop-dead gorgeous woman with prominent cheekbones, cool ebony skin, and kind eyes.
She smiled when she saw him.
“Hello, Colin.”
Every molecule in his body froze. “Who are you?”
The woman ignored the question, waving him in. “Come. Sit with me.”
Colin didn’t move. He couldn’t. His feet were on strike, and his legs were right behind them.
The woman’s smile softened, her eyes—large and vibrant brown—filling with compassion.
“I understand you are in pain,” she said, her voice both strong and lyrical. “Seraphina was always a little…well, misunderstood. But in you, she seemed to find real peace.”
At that, Colin’s heart flipped, and his feet abandoned the embargo on movement. He shot forward, nearly tripping over himself in his haste. “You know…knew”—he choked, willing himself not to sob—“you knew Sera?”
The woman inclined her head. “Indeed, though we were not as close as I would have liked. She was truly something.” Her expression sobered, the laugh lines bracketing her mouth fading. “I made the mistake of trusting her with someone…unworthy of that trust. Sera was special. She wasn’t truly happy unless she was here.” She clasped her hands and released a sigh. “Heaven simply isn’t for all. I suppose that much is unavoidable. And yet, I still try.”
The ground beneath his feet seemed to shift as understanding dawned. The place in his chest where grief had made a home bottomed out, making room for awe. Colin fought to keep his jaw from falling, but like so much of late, it was a losing battle. He could only stare.
The woman bristled and shifted in her seat. “I do dislike this part.”
Colin swallowed. “This part?”
“Yes. You become awkwardly self-aware, and the conversation generally goes downhill.”
“You’ve done this before?”
One perfect—of course it was perfect—eyebrow arched. “Revealed myself to a demon? Yes. It’s somewhat old hat nowadays.”
Colin stumbled forward another few awkward steps, his exhausted brain trying desperately to keep up with the conversation. “So…uhh…what should I…call you? Almighty? Yahweh?” He swallowed. “God?”
She smiled. “Yes, I have many names. Too many to count, truth be told. But I have always been partial to El.”
The name didn’t seem right. Colin frowned. “Just…El?”
“Indeed. There is beauty in simplicity.” El nodded at the loveseat Sera had positioned perpendicular to the couch. “Now that introductions are out of the way, please…”
There was no denying a deity. Colin’s ass found the seat cushion before his mind could catch up with what had occurred. For a few blessed seconds, the hard stab of grief was overshadowed by something larger than himself. The pain remained as present as ever, but he didn’t feel it as sharply.
That alone seemed like a betrayal.
El folded her hands in her lap and met his gaze. “You are aware, some years ago, a nun was violated by a demon called Belial, which resulted in your birth.”
Colin nodded.
“Your mother asked for guidance,” El continued. “She knew the birth was one she was not likely to survive. Her options were thus: terminate the pregnancy, and in so doing, spare her own life. An action many would have taken in her place, I think. Her second option was to bear the child so that he, one day, would be able to dethrone his tyrannical father. Your mother was a very kind woman, a woman of faith, and she chose to sacrifice herself in the hope that others might not share her fate.”
Again, Colin nodded. Sera had already told him all of this, what seemed like a lifetime ago. Or several.
The pang resurfaced. Colin’s vision blurred.
Sera.
“Sera has always been special.” There was an airy, wistful quality to El’s voice. “When the committee first formed to decide what to do with you, she was on board. The girl was restless. Heaven was the place she came when she had no choice. She was in need of guidance and discipline. There aren’t many angels like Sera, but there were enough that I had a checks and balances system in place. Hence Sera’s handler, Camael.”
At the name, a light buzzing filled Colin’s ears. He hadn’t given much thought to the angel in the past few days—too consumed with grief, and too intent to stay that way. He’d known, though, as soon as the pain of losing Sera faded, his attention would shift to the asshole he was convinced was responsible. The name had been dropped too many times by both Sera and Savina to be coincidence. Colin wasn’t sure the extent of the angel’s crimes, but he had every intention of finding out.
“It seems,” El continued, “Camael’s interest in you wasn’t entirely altruistic. Or, rather, at all altruistic. He intended you to become one of Belial’s subjects, a tool to be used against Heaven rather than in its service. Your being divinely touched would make you invaluable. Camael also intended sweet Sera to suffer my wrath at her failure. He wanted you to fall in love with her.”
The buzzing in his ears grew louder, the ache in his chest in the neighborhood of unbearable. “I’ve been in love with her for years.”
El’s smile was patient and understanding. “I know. Camael doesn’t understand love. Not like you do. He didn’t realize it couldn’t be predicted. He placed her here in the hope that you would become attached. You did. What he did not anticipate was Sera becoming attached to you. Loving you as she did. All Camael wanted was for her to break your heart, and in doing so, instill such resentment you would not want anything to do with her or her kind. He wanted her to drive you away. All the way to Hell.”
Colin blinked. “He…what?”
“Camael’s understanding of the world is rather limited.”
“I wouldn’t have…even if Sera…” He shook his head, trying to make sense of the words and failing. “I would never have…I just…”
El held up a hand. “I know. Camael hoped your demon side would prevail, but he did not understand that blood is only blood. It does not make a man. You’re a good man, Colin. It is no wonder Sera loved you.”
That much was enough to chase back his bewilderment with a fresh onslaught of pain, this time with a healthy dose of resentment. “I’m not in,” he said.
El blinked and quirked her head. “Pardon?”
“You heard me. I…I appreciate you coming here. Or I think I do.” He’d decide on that later. “But whatever it is—you need me to do. This grand destiny Sera kept talking about. If it’s real or if it was another lie she believed, I don’t care. I’m not in.”
“You misunderstand—”
“Do I?” Colin jerked to his feet. “Are you here because of my destiny, or whatever it is? That thing Sera kept talking about?”
El offered a single nod. “In part.”
“I’m your tool to defeating Hell?”
“Of course not. There is no one single tool. You are an asset, of course, and your father must one day answer for his crimes, but you are not singularly responsible for dismantling the great enemy.” El smiled again, but this time it didn’t reach her eyes. “And even so, all creation—mankind to demon to angel—is sovereign over their own action. I could not force you to do anything you choose not to do.”
“Well, I’m out.”
“Are you?”
“Look, I…I guess I…” He blinked at her, then looked away and went to tear his fingers through his hair. His short hair. His hair that Sera had cut just days before, her fingers running through tresses, her breath warm against his skin. A shiver ran through him, and he forced his gaze back to El. “Whatever your intentions, whatever happened…you still let her jump into Hell.”
El crossed her arms. “Did I?”
“It wouldn’t have killed me. I know that much. They wanted me in Hell. I could’ve survived it. She couldn’t. And you let her jump.”
“I think, if you’re being honest with yourself, you know that one does not let Sera do anything. It was her choice. She wanted to spare you the burden of Hell.” El rose to her feet, moving with seamless grace. “You are not angry with me. You are angry with her.”
The words cut deeper than he would ever admit. “I need to leave now,” he said, and turned without further warning.
It was the best thing he could do—the only thing he could do to keep himself from lashing out. From allowing his heartache to manifest into the screaming mess that kept banging against his chest for release. He would not unleash his rage at a deity, no matter how good it would feel.
“Goodbye for now, Colin,” El said behind him, seemingly unperturbed by his abrupt departure.
Granted, given who she was, he doubted very much that anything managed to perturb her.
Colin stalked the blocks back to his house in a hurry, his mind racing—tripping over itself in the places it landed. Everything he’d learned, everything he’d discovered, the things he had yet to explore. The heritage he’d been given, the part of himself he’d unlocked right before he’d lost the only part of himself that mattered.
Sera smiling at him the morning she’d died. Sera kissing him goodbye.
And now this.
The ball of anger in his belly began sliding upward. And he began to worry, when his feet hit his driveway, and his front door came into view, that he wouldn’t make it indoors before the building explosion went off.
Before he lost the tenuous grip he’d maintained on control each day since she’d vanished.
And there was the other thing. Colin couldn’t shake the gnawing sensation at the back of his brain, the one that told him the truth was something he couldn’t run from. That he was angry—more than angry—with Sera. He was furious and heartbroken and so sick with himself he wouldn’t know what to do or say were he given the opportunity.
In the end, El was right.
Sera had chosen to jump. She’d chosen to do this to him.
She had chosen this.
Colin bit back a sob and somehow managed to shove his way into his home. He stumbled across the threshold, then slammed the door behind him and collapsed against it. His lips parted, and he waited for the sob to come again.
Then he looked up, and his world tipped off its axis. The floor seemed to go sideways, and it took everything he had to maintain his balance.
No, that wasn’t possible. For the first time since he’d watched Sera disappear behind a curtain of flame, Colin wondered if he was losing his mind. If the weight of the past few days had caught up with him—if he had tumbled over the line separating him from an all-out mental breakdown.
Seeing God was one thing. Seeing Sera, when he knew she was dead, was something else entirely.
“You’re not real,” he told the mirage.
The Sera mirage made a face. A wholly Sera face. “Well, hello to you, too.”