Page 163 of White Lights
“FormerAngel of Death,” he corrects her. “Present rejected lonely-boy, but I guess you don’t want to hear about that.” He looks out the window, pensive. “I’ve always been intrigued by love. You know, it’s forbidden to angels.”
“Love?” Dez asks. “Forbidden?” She’s never heard of this before. Is that why Rafe and Jet and all the other White Lights can’t keep their hands off human flesh? They want what they can’t have?
Is that why Samael quit?
“Do you know where Asher is?” she asks.
“I’m afraid I’m out of the loop,” Sam says. “But I imagine he’ll soon make his presence known.”
“Is he … alive?”
“Very much so,” Sam says. “You changed the game, Desdemona. Really flipped the script.”
“How did I do that?”
“By compelling Asher to kill death. Via love. Or the promise of it, anyway.”
“I was only trying to save his life.”
“Some beings simply have a larger capacity for love. You have great compassion, as your subjects have experienced in your films. But your mightiness comes from your gift for romantic love. It’s a combination I’ve never seen before.”
“I need to find Asher.”
Still drawing, Sam says, “I suspect he’s with the other side.”
“What other side?” Dez asks, impatient.
“The Angels of Life. Old friends … or old enemies of mine. After a while, it’s hard to tell the difference.”
“Asher’s withanothersect of angels? How do I get to him?”
“You ascend.”
“I can’t. Even if I wanted to, which I don’t, there’s no way they’ll let me. Not after what I did.”
“All you have to do is make up with Rafe and—”
“No.”
“I get it, believe me, the guy can be a drag. I spent half the time I was with him trying not to punch him. But ascension is the only way you’ll ever see the one you claim to love again.”
“But if I become an angel,” Dez says, following his logic, “I won’t be able to love Asher anymore. Isn’t that right?”
Sam sips his coffee. “That’s a problem for the future. And a rather selfish one at that. You don’t seem to appreciate the cosmic chaos you’ve unleashed. A death-killer absconded by the Angels of Life … I can’t think of anything more dangerous.” Sam lets out a low whistle. “The White Lights are going to lose their shit.”
“The second I go back to Acheron, they’ll send me to Sheol—”
“They can’t afford to at this point. Acheron needs you too much. The whole White Lights system needs you. The great war is coming and you’re the odds-on MVP.”
“Samael, please help me—”
Samael pounds on the table and a gleam of the fearsome angel he once was rockets into Dez’s heart. All of a sudden, she’s terrified.
“Find Rafe,” he says in a low voice that’s grave as hell. “Kiss and make up. It’s the only way.”
She shakes her head. “I don’t ever want to see him again. I can’t imagine he wants to see me either.”
“Well, that can be hot sometimes,” Sam says, pulling out his wallet, dropping twenty dollars on the table. “It’s going to have to be. Believe it or not, Rafe’s your best ally at this point.”
