People strolling past sent concerned looks in my direction once I removed my sunglasses and hooked them in the front of my shirt. I knew I looked like I’d survived a car accident or a death match with a gorilla. Barely. Bones had fused back together. Torn muscles had stitched themselves, and ripped skin had healed, but I was covered in purplish-blue and some angry red bruises that were slow to fade. Gabriel’s hand had left marks around my neck. My left cheek was swollen and discolored. Both eyes were swollen with dark greenish-blue smudges under them, and they were bloodshot.
I’d thought the Uber driver was going to take me to the hospital or to the police after getting a good look at me.
Shadows grew around me, and park lights came on as night slowly crept in. Fewer and fewer people passed me, until there was no one else, and then—only then—did I look up at the night sky.
There were no stars.
I didn’t know if the sky was empty because it was still overcast, or if whatever damage Gabriel had done to my body had somehow accelerated the failing of my eyes. Knowing my luck, it was probably the latter.
Closing my eyes, I thought about something I’d avoided for the past two days, something Layla had said. Zayne still hadn’t come to me as a ghost or a spirit, and I didn’t know if that meant he had crossed over and was adjusting to...well, to paradise, and he was doing what Layla had said—waiting for me when it was my time.
Roth had told me what I needed to do to summon the Angel of Death, since I couldn’t go to Hell or to Heaven to speak with him. I’d have to get the Lesser Key, which was currently at the Warden compound. I doubted they’d just hand that over, so I probably needed one more day before I was ready to force Nicolai to do something he most likely would not want to do. I would summon Grim and I would get Zayne back, but...
Tears spilled from my eyes, wetting my cheeks. How I could still cry was beyond me. I’d thought that well was drained dry, but I was wrong. The tears fell, even when I closed my eyes. Crying was a weakness I couldn’t afford right now, especially since I felt like I was so close to tipping over a razor-sharp edge.
But what if Zayne really was at peace? What if he was safe and happy? What if he had the eternity that he very much deserved? How could I... How could I take that from him? Even if Gabriel succeeded in bringing on the apocalypse, Zayne would be safe. The gates of Heaven would close, and maybe it wouldn’t crumble into itself like Gabriel claimed. I couldn’t imagine God allowing all those souls and the angels to perish. God would have to step in before then, and while I’d never see him again, Zayne would be safe.
Could I be that selfish, to bring him back to this? To a place where he could die once again fighting Gabriel, to protect a world that would never know all that he’d sacrificed for it? And if we failed to stop Gabriel, there’d be no eternity, no peace or paradise. We’d be stuck in the human plane, where we’d turn into wraiths or be dragged to Hell.
Opening my eyes, I dragged my hands under my cheeks and stared at the sky. Two days ago, I would’ve said yes, I was that selfish. A week ago, I would’ve said the same thing...but now?
I loved Zayne with every fiber of my being, with every breath I took and with every beat of my heart. I didn’t know if I could do that to him.
And I didn’t know how I could do any of this without him.
I stared at the night sky, wishing for some sign, for something that would tell me what to do, what was right—
A pinprick of light appeared, and I blinked, thinking my eyes were messing with me. But the glow remained, growing brighter and more intense as it raced across the sky. Twisting at the waist, I ignored the pain as I watched the white streak of light disappear beyond the trees, farther than my eyes could track.
Was that...a falling star?
Heart thumping, I turned back around. Had I just seen an actual falling star? A hoarse laugh scratched my throat. Was that the sign I’d been asking for?
If so, what in the Hell did that even mean?
I could interpret that to mean yes, I should summon Grim and possibly rip Zayne away from peace and happiness. Or it could mean that Zayne was okay, just like he’d told me, and that he was watching over me. Or it could mean absolutely nothing at all. I shook my head. No, it had to mean something. I dragged in a deep breath...and every muscle in my body tensed.
I smelled... I smelled snow and winter, fresh and minty.
I smelled wintermint.
My pulse kicked up as I reached down, gripping the edge of the bench. My head turned in the direction Zayne had come from the last time I’d been here, but the path was empty, as far as I could see.
Was I experiencing wishful smelling?
Easing my grip on the bench, I’d started to stand, when I felt it. A strange, shivery warmth that danced along the nape of my neck and between my shoulders. A breeze glided from behind me, lifting strands of my hair, and I was surrounded in wintermint.
The warmth spread from my neck down my back, and I sensed I was no longer alone. Someone or something was here, and I knew... I knew Heaven smelled like what you desired most.
My lips parted as I slowly stood, bones and muscles protesting, and turned around, closing my eyes because I was too afraid to look, to discover nothing but darkness existed there, and maybe, just maybe, I was losing a little of my mind. Trembling, I opened my eyes, and I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t speak or think beyond what I saw.
Zayne.
It was him, his blond hair loose and falling against cheeks and brushing broad, bare shoulders. It was his full lips I’d kissed and loved, and his broad chest that rose and fell rapidly...but those were not his eyes that stared back at me.
These eyes were a shade of blue so vibrant and so clear, they made Warden eyes seem pale and lifeless in comparison. They were the color of the sky at twilight.
And it wasn’t his skin.
Where his skin had looked like it had been kissed by the sun, it now carried a faint luminous golden glow. Not like a spirit, because he was blood and bone, but he was...he was shining, and my heart was pounding fast.
“Trin,” he said, and the tremors turned to full-body shakes at the sound of his voice—his voice. It was him, the way he said my name, it was him, and he was alive and breathing and I didn’t care how. I didn’t care why. He was alive, and—
Zayne’s shoulders moved, straightening, and something white and golden swept into the air and spread out on either side of him, nearly ten feet wide.
My mouth dropped open.
Wings.
They were wings.
Not Warden wings.
Even with my eyes, I could tell these were feathered. They were white and thick with streaks of gold laced throughout, and those gold veins glowed with Heavenly fire, with grace.
They were angelic wings.
Zayne was an angel.