move.
His lips trailing down her shoulder felt like razor blades slicing through her skin, as if she should look down and see exposed muscle, bone, gushing flesh. Elise sucked in a gasp despite herself.
Over His shoulder, she saw Metaraon watching from the corner, arms folded, and an expectant look on his face. He was shadowed by the bookshelves, toying with one of the statuettes on the altar. Just seeing the angel in James’s bedroom made her stomach lurch with hate in a way that could only be matched by her hatred for Him.
The door , he mouthed silently, nodding behind Elise.
She turned. James’s door was white, with four panels and a gold doorknob.
Elise closed her eyes and wished that she could be somewhere, anywhere, but that bedroom. She never wanted to think of that ordinary life again. She didn’t want to remember how good life had once been, and how little time she had gotten to appreciate it.
If Elise were to be trapped in Heaven, then she didn’t want the illusion of peace. She wanted to suffer in truth.
Adam leaned back. “What is truth?” He whispered, as if He could hear her thoughts. “What is real?”
Bitter fury surged in Elise.
She shoved the tray off of the bed with a scream, upending the plates. The mug shattered against the bedside table. Coffee splashed over the carpet. Elise ripped the lamp off of the side table and hurled it at Adam. He didn’t move to dodge. He simply wasn’t sitting on the edge of the bed anymore, having reappeared across the room.
Jumping out of bed, Elise lunged at Metaraon, hands extended.
But Adam was there first. He stepped between them and backhanded Elise, hard enough to make her vision fuzz.
She hit the ground. The carpet smelled like damp soil and grass.
Elise pushed onto her hands and knees, but before she could get up, Adam pressed His foot between her shoulder blades and flattened her to the ground again.
“Is it so hard to walk through a door?” Adam asked. He wasn’t speaking to her now. He talked over her head to Metaraon, as if she had vanished. “Do I ask too much?”
“She’s stubborn. She just needs a little coercion.”
“I don’t want to have to hurt her,” He said. “I want her to love me as much as I love her.”
Elise tried to push onto her hands and knees again, but His foot was too heavy.
“She loves you, but she’ll have to be shown that,” Metaraon said.
“Fine,” Adam said. His voice had turned deep and booming. His foot seared Elise’s flesh, increasing in intensity until it felt like a hot poker held to her spine. The moisture in her eye sizzled, evaporated. The illusion of quiet domesticity had vanished so quickly. “If I must.”
Time slipped. The carpet disappeared from underneath Elise’s feet.
She blinked and found herself standing on the first floor of Motion and Dance, in the remodeled garage. Heavy red drapes concealed the door leading outside. Mirrors covered the other three walls, interrupted only by a single door: an ordinary white rectangle split by four panels.
The narrow windows didn’t show Reno on the other side. Branches pressed against the glass, as if hoping to punch through to her with brittle fingers. Gray light still somehow suffused the room, though the light fixtures were dim.
Elise looked down at herself. She wore black leggings, a sport’s bra, and fingerless gloves with padded knuckles. Training gear.
“Are you ready?” asked a masculine voice from behind her.
For an instant, Elise closed her eyes and imagined that it was James speaking. They had trained together a thousand times in that room. Sometimes, it was in the art of dance; sometimes, in the art of fighting. He would attack her, they would wrestle, someone would win the skirmish—usually Elise—and they would both laugh as they prepared to fight again.
They would be happy, Elise and James.
But the moment of lying to herself didn’t last long, and when she opened her eyes, it was Adam who circled around her. He
His lips trailing down her shoulder felt like razor blades slicing through her skin, as if she should look down and see exposed muscle, bone, gushing flesh. Elise sucked in a gasp despite herself.
Over His shoulder, she saw Metaraon watching from the corner, arms folded, and an expectant look on his face. He was shadowed by the bookshelves, toying with one of the statuettes on the altar. Just seeing the angel in James’s bedroom made her stomach lurch with hate in a way that could only be matched by her hatred for Him.
The door , he mouthed silently, nodding behind Elise.
She turned. James’s door was white, with four panels and a gold doorknob.
Elise closed her eyes and wished that she could be somewhere, anywhere, but that bedroom. She never wanted to think of that ordinary life again. She didn’t want to remember how good life had once been, and how little time she had gotten to appreciate it.
If Elise were to be trapped in Heaven, then she didn’t want the illusion of peace. She wanted to suffer in truth.
Adam leaned back. “What is truth?” He whispered, as if He could hear her thoughts. “What is real?”
Bitter fury surged in Elise.
She shoved the tray off of the bed with a scream, upending the plates. The mug shattered against the bedside table. Coffee splashed over the carpet. Elise ripped the lamp off of the side table and hurled it at Adam. He didn’t move to dodge. He simply wasn’t sitting on the edge of the bed anymore, having reappeared across the room.
Jumping out of bed, Elise lunged at Metaraon, hands extended.
But Adam was there first. He stepped between them and backhanded Elise, hard enough to make her vision fuzz.
She hit the ground. The carpet smelled like damp soil and grass.
Elise pushed onto her hands and knees, but before she could get up, Adam pressed His foot between her shoulder blades and flattened her to the ground again.
“Is it so hard to walk through a door?” Adam asked. He wasn’t speaking to her now. He talked over her head to Metaraon, as if she had vanished. “Do I ask too much?”
“She’s stubborn. She just needs a little coercion.”
“I don’t want to have to hurt her,” He said. “I want her to love me as much as I love her.”
Elise tried to push onto her hands and knees again, but His foot was too heavy.
“She loves you, but she’ll have to be shown that,” Metaraon said.
“Fine,” Adam said. His voice had turned deep and booming. His foot seared Elise’s flesh, increasing in intensity until it felt like a hot poker held to her spine. The moisture in her eye sizzled, evaporated. The illusion of quiet domesticity had vanished so quickly. “If I must.”
Time slipped. The carpet disappeared from underneath Elise’s feet.
She blinked and found herself standing on the first floor of Motion and Dance, in the remodeled garage. Heavy red drapes concealed the door leading outside. Mirrors covered the other three walls, interrupted only by a single door: an ordinary white rectangle split by four panels.
The narrow windows didn’t show Reno on the other side. Branches pressed against the glass, as if hoping to punch through to her with brittle fingers. Gray light still somehow suffused the room, though the light fixtures were dim.
Elise looked down at herself. She wore black leggings, a sport’s bra, and fingerless gloves with padded knuckles. Training gear.
“Are you ready?” asked a masculine voice from behind her.
For an instant, Elise closed her eyes and imagined that it was James speaking. They had trained together a thousand times in that room. Sometimes, it was in the art of dance; sometimes, in the art of fighting. He would attack her, they would wrestle, someone would win the skirmish—usually Elise—and they would both laugh as they prepared to fight again.
They would be happy, Elise and James.
But the moment of lying to herself didn’t last long, and when she opened her eyes, it was Adam who circled around her. He
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