Page 29 of Demise

The dark angel, excited and malicious,would respond,“I am who you’ve always wanted to be. And I do what I please.”

And then there’s this moment right here.

Why does that man think I’m the devil? What has he heard about me?

I tilt my head, lifting my shoulder. “Yeah, well, maybe I am.”

Chapter Twenty-One

Bexley

The early winter wind whirls around me, whipping my hair across my face. Frost covers the ground, traveling up the bottom half of the gravestone. Over and over, I read the engravement.

Samuel O’Brien

Beloved husband, brother, and son.

Here lies a man who was deeply loved and will never be forgotten.

A simple thing to say, but also very true. Samuel was loved by many. He lived a solid life. I exhale, looking across the icy ground.

“You were good to me. I hope that on most days, you felt that I was the same to you.”

My thoughts turn silent. I loved you when we were kids, and I loved you as my husband and my friend. I hope that wherever you are, you’re at peace.

The life you lived was cut short. It isn’t fair, but I don’t think life is ever fair. I think we’re living it by its terms. We don’t get much say, really. We can just wake up, hope for the best, and watch what happens. I sniff. “Rest easy, my Samuel. I’ll see you again one day.” I place the flowers onto the concrete slab and turn to leave.

My feet freeze.

“Hey, Bexley.”

I look around, seeing the black SUV I rode in with the driver still in it.

“Sorry to scare you,” he says.

“You didn’t scare me.”

He nods. “I was headed to a meeting with Bones, but I noticed you out here. Wanted to see if you were okay.”

How odd. When has this man ever been concerned about me? Have we ever spoken?

“I’m fine.”

“I see that,” he says. “I don’t think we’ve ever officially met. I’m Trig.”

He offers his hand.

I don’t take it.

“I’m aware of who you are.”

He narrows his eyes, sliding his hands into his pockets, looking past me. “Sorry about your husband. That’s a shame.”

I don’t respond. Instead, I start walking past him. He reaches out and grabs my arm. I jerk away.

“Whoa,” he says. “Steady there.” He laughs.

I grip onto my crutch, regaining my balance. The driver who drove me here opens his door.

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